An Amish Christmas
Patricia Davids
“It seems you’ve come to my rescue once again.”He held out his hand to seal the deal and gave her a crooked grin. It deepened the lines that bracketed his mouth lending him a boyish charm.With only a brief hesitation, she accepted his hand. Her pulse skipped a beat then pounded erratically as her small hand was swallowed by his large, warm one. It wasn’t soft, it was calloused and rough like the hand of a man who worked outdoors for a living. A blush heated her cheeks, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.She remembered him so clearly. The shape of his brow and the stone gray color of his eyes, even the way the stubble of his beard had felt beneath her fingers. She remembered, too, the husky sound of his voice when he told her she was beautiful.Something light and sweet slipped through her veins. An echo of a time when she’d been a giddy teenager smitten with a local boy. A time before she’d had to become a surrogate mother to her younger siblings and put her girlhood dreams away.
Praise for Patricia Davids and her novels
“[A] wonderful tale…”
—RT Book Reviews on An Amish Christmas
“Davids’ deep understanding of Amish culture is evident in the compassionate characters and beautiful descriptions.”
—RT Book Reviews on A Home for Hannah
“Davids’ latest beautifully portrays the Amish belief that everything happens for a reason, which helps one focus on the most important things in life.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Christmas Quilt
Praise for Anna Schmidt and her novels
“A sweet story…”
—RT Book Reviews on Family Blessings
“Schmidt knows what readers expect…and delivers on all levels.”
—RT Book Reviews on Gift from the Sea
“[A] poignant story…”
—RT Book Reviews on Second Chance Proposal
After thirty-five years as a nurse, PATRICIA DAVIDS hung up her stethoscope to become a full-time writer. She enjoys spending her free time visiting her grandchildren, doing some long-overdue yard work and traveling to research her story locations. She resides in Wichita, Kansas. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can visit her online at patriciadavids.com (http://www.patriciadavids.com).
ANNA SCHMIDT is an award-winning author of more than twenty-five works of historical and contemporary fiction. She is a three-time finalist for the coveted RITA® Award from Romance Writers of America, as well as a four-time finalist for an RT Reviewers’ Choice Award. Critics have called Anna “a natural writer, spinning tales reminiscent of old favorites like Miracle on 34th Street.” One reviewer raved, “I love Anna Schmidt’s style of writing!”
An Amish Christmas Family Blessings
An Amish Christmas
Patricia Davids
Family Blessings
Anna Schmidt
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u0ba7d1d0-3104-51c8-8359-8e9583ab49a1)
Praise (#uec266213-04eb-588c-bff2-a24f17f63e5c)
About the Author (#u2bb5f74f-f1c5-547a-956b-a6c1a8644c80)
Title Page (#u2a5e1e66-e74e-5303-b2e8-1925063e77e2)
An Amish Christmas (#u9a3e8a2f-3d70-50d1-9762-8d3f64c0b689)
Epigraph (#ucaeb83d1-8765-50d7-96d2-5dece664f516)
CHAPTER ONE (#u1435c110-d0b1-54d3-b944-3ee2e8a7a47a)
CHAPTER TWO (#u5ce29a34-af9e-5ec0-a428-ed20109e11cb)
CHAPTER THREE (#u42c63cfc-aca7-522d-9ab7-2a65d307a27e)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u4219a4c6-cc7a-5b3b-88e5-81fec6b0f21c)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u7074d887-550c-5496-a0b6-a8485abaf023)
CHAPTER SIX (#ud19678a4-d8e3-5024-a987-9484da564af0)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u0e50d754-4321-5ba6-9b22-ed1f04540cf3)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#u293b56ba-0a26-5fba-bbe8-c0d913021ae4)
CHAPTER NINE (#uc890c941-fde2-5747-8f7f-bddb2064cbb8)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Family Blessings (#litres_trial_promo)
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
Epigraph (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
An Amish Christmas (#ua2947530-3874-5143-91c8-63ffb95308e1)
Patricia Davids
This book is dedicated to women and men
everywhere who seek to mend fences
and to right wrongs within their families.
“Blessed are the peacemakers:
for they shall be called the children of God.”
—Matthew 5:9
If thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord,
who shall stand?
But there is forgiveness with thee,
that thou mayest be feared.
I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait,
and in His word do I hope.
—Psalms 130:3–5
CHAPTER ONE (#ua2947530-3874-5143-91c8-63ffb95308e1)
“Our school program will be so much fun. We’re going to do a play and sing songs. I have a poem to recite all by myself. I can’t wait for Christmas.” Eight-year-old Anna Imhoff leaned out the side of their Amish buggy to let the breeze twirl a ribbon she held in her hand.
Karen Imhoff listened to her little sister’s excited prattle with only half an ear. Christmas was still eight weeks away. There were more pressing problems on Karen’s plate, like buying shoes for three growing children, her father’s mounting medical bills and finding a job until he was fully recovered.
Anna sat back and grabbed Karen’s sleeve. “Look, there’s a dead man.”
Before Karen could respond to Anna’s startling comment, the horse pulling the buggy shied violently, then bolted. Caught off guard, Karen was thrown back against the leather seat as the mare lunged forward. Anna screamed at the top of her lungs. Her brothers in the backseat began yelling. The horse plunged ahead even faster.
Regaining her balance, Karen grasped the loose reins. She braced her feet against the floorboards and pulled back hard. “Whoa, Molly, whoa!”
Molly paid no heed. The buggy bounced and swayed violently as the mare charged down the farm lane. Mud thrown up by her hooves splattered Karen’s dress and face. Gritty dirt mixed with the acid tang of fear in her mouth.
Anna, still screaming, threw her arms around Karen’s waist, further hampering her efforts to gain control. The horse had to be stopped before they reached the highway at the end of the lane or upended in the ditch.
Muscles burning, Karen fought Molly’s headlong plunge. A quarter of a mile flew past before Molly gave in. The horse slowed and came to a stop a few feet shy of the highway just as a red pickup zipped past. The brown mare tossed her head once more but didn’t seem inclined to run again. Karen sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks for their deliverance then took stock of her passengers.
Anna, with her face buried in the fabric of her sister’s dress, maintained her tight grip. “I don’t like to go fast. Don’t do that again.”
Karen comforted her with a quick hug and loosened the child’s arms. “I won’t. I promise.”
Turning to check on her brothers, Karen asked, “Jacob? Noah? Are you all right?”
Fourteen-year-old Jacob retrieved his broad-brimmed black hat from the floor, dusted it off and jammed it on his thick, wheat-colored hair. “I’m fine. I didn’t know Molly could move like that.”
Ten-year-old Noah sat slumped down beside his brother. He held his hat onto his head in a tight grip with both hands. The folded brim made it look like a bonnet over his red curls. He said, “That was not fun.”
“I thought it was,” Jacob countered. “What spooked her?”
“I’m not sure.” Karen’s erratic heartbeat gradually slowed to a normal pace.
Brushing at the mud on her dress, Anna said, “Maybe Molly was scared of the dead man.”
“What dead man?” Noah leaned forward eagerly.
“The one back there.” Anna pointed behind them. They all twisted around to look. Karen saw only an empty lane.
Jacob scowled at his little sister. “I don’t see anything. You’re making that up.”
“I am not. You believe me, don’t you, Karen?”
Hugging the tearful child, Karen wasn’t sure what to believe. Anna had been the only survivor of the buggy and automobile crash that had killed their mother, two sisters and their oldest brother four years earlier. The child worried constantly about death taking another member of her family.
Karen looked into Anna’s eyes. “I’m sure you saw something. A plastic bag or a bundle of rags perhaps.”
Jacob, impatient as ever, said, “There’s nothing back there. Let’s go. I don’t want to be late for school.”
“We can’t leave him there,” Anna insisted, her lower lip quivering ominously.
Noah started to climb out. “I don’t mind being late. I’ll go look.”
Forestalling him, Karen said, “No. We’ll all go back.”
Anna could easily become hysterical and then they would get nowhere. It was better to show the child that she had been mistaken. After that, Karen could drop the children at their one-room schoolhouse and hurry to her interview at Bishop Zook’s home. It wouldn’t do to be late for such an important meeting.
When the wedding banns had been announced for the current schoolteacher, Karen knew it meant a new teacher would have to be hired. With money tight in the Imhoff household the job would be perfect for Karen and bring in much-needed funds.
The church-district elders were speaking to teaching applicants this morning. She had to be there. But first she needed to convince Anna they didn’t have a dead man on their lane.
Turning the horse around, Karen sent her walking back the way they had come. As they neared the start of their reckless run Molly balked, throwing up her head and snorting.
Not wishing to have a repeat of the mad dash, Karen said, “Jacob, take the lines.”
He scrambled over the seat back to sit beside her. After handing him the driving reins Karen stepped down from the buggy. Her sturdy black shoes sank into the ground still soft from last night’s rain.
The morning sun, barely over the horizon, had started to burn away the fog lingering in the low-lying farm fields. Where the sunlight touched the high wooded hillsides it turned the autumn foliage to burnished gold and scarlet flame. A breeze tugged at the ribbons of Karen’s kapp and brought with it the smell of damp grasses and fallen leaves.
Walking briskly back toward their farmhouse, she scanned the shallow ditch beside the road without seeing anything unusual. Turning around in the road, she looked at the children and raised her arms. “I don’t see anything.”
“Farther back,” Anna yelled.
Dropping her hands, Karen shook her head, but started walking. Anna had been leaning out her side of the carriage. She would have had a good view of the ditch. Karen had been paying attention to the problems facing her family and not to the road. A mistake she would not make again.
A few yards farther along the lane she caught a glimpse of something white in the weeds. At first she thought she’d been right and it was a bundle of cloth or a stray plastic bag caught in the brush. Then the breeze brought her a new smell—the sickly metallic odor of blood. A low moan made her jump like a startled rabbit.
Taking a few hesitant steps closer, she saw a man sprawled on his back, his body almost completely hidden in the grass and wild sumac. His face looked deathly pale beneath close-cropped black hair. Blood had oozed from an ugly gash on the side of his head.
In an instant, Karen was transported back to that terrible day when she had stood beside the remains of the smashed buggy where her mother and sisters lay dead and her brother lay dying.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Pressing her hands to her face, she whispered, “Not again, Lord, do not ask this of me.”
“Did you find something?” Noah yelled.
Jerked back to the present, Karen shouted, “Stay there!”
She approached the downed man with caution. He was an Englischer by the look of his clothes. The muddy white shirt he wore stretched tightly across his chest and broad shoulders while his worn jeans hugged a lean waist and muscular thighs. Oddly, both his shoes were missing.
He moaned, and she moved to kneel at his side. “Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”
“It is a dead man!” Noah stood on the roadway looking down with wide eyes.
She scowled at her brother. “He is not dead. I told you to wait in the buggy.”
“Are you sure he isn’t dead?” The boy’s voice brimmed with excitement.
Laying a hand on the man’s cheek, Karen became alarmed by how cold his skin was. He might not be dead, but he wasn’t far from it. “Run to the phone shack and call for help. Do you know how to do that?”
Noah nodded. “Ja, I dial 9-1-1.”
“Goot. Hurry.”
She watched her brother climb over the fence and head across the muddy field of corn stubble. Their Amish church forbade telephones in the homes of the members, but did allow a community telephone. It was located at a midway point between their home and two neighboring Amish farms.
Jacob brought the buggy up. When Molly drew alongside the ditch, she snorted and sidled away. Apparently, she didn’t care for the smell of blood. That must have been what frightened her in the first place. Jacob held her in check.
Karen looked up at him, “Go get Papa.”
“We can’t leave you,” Anna protested.
Jacob drew himself up bravely. “I should stay.”
Shaking her head, Karen said, “I’ll be fine. Just go. And bring some quilts. This poor man is freezing.”
Jacob slapped the reins sharply and sent Molly racing up the lane toward the farmhouse. Settling herself beside the injured man, Karen took one of his hands and began to rub it between her own. How had he come to be here?
He groaned and moved restlessly. She squeezed his hand. “You will be okay, sir. My family has gone to get help.”
He responded by turning his face toward her. His eyes fluttered open. They were as gray as rain clouds. Encouraged, Karen continued talking to him and rubbing his hand. “My name is Karen Imhoff and this is our farm. Can you tell me who you are?”
He mumbled something. Leaning forward, she positioned her ear near his mouth. His faint, shaky whisper sounded like, “Cold.”
She quickly unbuttoned her coat. Pulling it off, she tucked it around him. Raising his shoulders slightly, she scooted beneath him so his head rested on her lap and not the chilly ground. It wouldn’t help much. His clothes were wet from the rain as was the cold ground he was lying on. Using the corner of her apron, she folded it into a pad and pressed it against the wound on his head.
He moaned again, opened his eyes and focused on her face. “Help me.”
His voice was barely audible but the words he whispered were the same words, the last words, her brother Seth had uttered. She cupped the Englischer’s face, trying to infuse him with her own strength. “Help is coming. Be strong.”
Please, God, do not make me watch him die as I did Seth. Save this man if it is Your will.
With her free hand she stroked his face, offering him what comfort she could. The stubble on his cheeks rasped against her fingertips, sending an unexpected shiver zipping along her nerve endings.
His sharply chiseled features were deeply tanned, but his underlying pallor gave his skin a sickly color. His hair lay dark and thick where it wasn’t matted with blood. Dark brows arched finely over his pain-filled eyes.
Raising an unsteady hand to touch her face, he fixed her with a desperate gaze and whispered, “Don’t leave me.”
Grasping his cold fingers, she pressed them against her cheek. He might die, but he would not die alone. “I won’t leave you. I promise.”
“You’re…so beautiful.” His voice faded. His arm went limp and dropped from her grasp.
Karen tensed. His life couldn’t slip away now, not when help was so close. She shook him and spoke firmly. “Listen to me. Help is coming. You must hang on.”
“Hang on…to you,” he mumbled.
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Stay with me. Let God be your strength. Hold fast to Him.”
After several slow breaths, he said, “Yea, though I walk…through…the—”
She took up the rest of the Twenty-third Psalm for him. “Through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.”
She glanced toward the farm. Where was her father? What was taking so long? Desperately, she prayed help would come in time for the man she held.
Clearing her throat of its tear-choked tightness, she finished the psalm with a voice that shook. “Surelygoodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.”
Please let Your words bring him comfort, Lord.
It seemed like hours, but finally the buggy came rattling to a stop beside her once more. Her father climbed out gingerly. His left arm rested in a sling with a cast to his shoulder.
He was dressed in dark trousers and a dark coat. His plain clothes, long beard and black felt hat proclaimed him a member of the Amish church. His calm demeanor bolstered Karen’s lagging spirits.
“What is this, daughter? Anna is wailing about a dead man.” Eli Imhoff pulled a bundle of blankets from the seat. Jacob remained in the buggy, controlling the restless horse.
Looking to her father in relief, she said, “We found him like this, Papa. He is badly hurt.”
“I saw him first,” Anna said, making sure everyone understood her contribution.
Eli’s eyes grew round behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “An Englischer?”
“Ja. He is so cold. I sent Noah to the telephone to call for help.”
Eli stroked his gray-streaked beard, then nodded. “It was the right thing to do. Let us pray he lives until the English ambulance comes.”
As they spread more covers over the man Noah came racing back. He stopped in the lane and braced his hands on his thighs, breathing heavily. “Is he dead yet?”
“No, and he will not die,” Karen stated so firmly that both her brothers and her father gave her odd looks.
She didn’t care. She had seen too much death. She wanted this man to live. “Surly God has not led us to him only to snatch his life away.”
“We cannot know Gotte wille,” her father chided.
God’s will was beyond human understanding, but Karen prayed He would show His mercy to this unknown man.
“How did he get here?” Jacob asked getting down from the buggy. He handed off the reins to his younger brother. Noah didn’t seem to mind. He stood at Molly’s side transfixed by the sight of the stricken man.
“Perhaps he was injured on the road and walked this far before he collapsed,” Eli suggested.
Squatting by the stranger’s feet, Jacob shook his head. “He didn’t walk. The bottoms of his socks aren’t even muddy.”
They all glanced at each other as the implications sank in. Someone had dumped this man and left him to die. Karen grew sick at the idea of such cruelty and tightened her hold on him.
Eli looked at his children and spoke sternly. “This is a matter for the English sheriff. It is outsider business. We must not become involved. Do all of you understand this?”
The boys and Anna nodded. Jacob stepped away and began walking along the ditch toward the highway. Eli scowled at him, but didn’t call him back. A dozen yards down the road Jacob stopped and dropped to his haunches. Karen thought she heard the faint sound of chimes for a second but then nothing more.
Eli called out to Jacob. “Did you find something?”
“Tire tracks from a car, that’s all.” Rising, Jacob shoved both his hands in his pockets, glanced over his shoulder and then kept walking.
In the distance, Karen heard the sound of a siren approaching at last. Her father laid a hand on her shoulder. “I will go to the highway to show the English where they are needed.”
When her father and Noah had driven away, Karen looked down at her stranger. His eyes were open, but his stare was blank. Cupping his cheek, she smiled at him. “Rest easy. Help is almost here.”
At the sound of her voice, he focused on her face. He tried to speak, but no words came out. His breath escaped in a deep sigh, and his eyes closed once more.
She bit her lip as she tightened her hold on him. “Just a little longer. You can do it.”
Within moments the sheriff’s SUV and an ambulance arrived, stopping a few feet away. Her father and Noah followed them. One of the paramedics brought his gear and dropped to his knees beside Karen. “I’ll take over now, miss.”
She had to let them do their job, but she didn’t want to let go of her stranger. She had promised him she wouldn’t leave him. God had brought her to this man’s side in his hour of need. A deep feeling of responsibility for him had taken hold in her heart, but she realized her job was done.
She cupped his cheek one last time. “You will be fine now.”
Rising, she stepped aside praying she had spoken the truth.
Shaking out her damp, muddy skirt, Karen crossed her arms against the chill morning air. With trepidation she saw the sheriff turned his attention her way. He was intimidating, with his gun strapped to his hip and his badge glinting on the front of his leather jacket. Sheriff Nick Bradley was English, but he had family who had remained Plain. Members of Karen’s church believed him to be a fair and impartial officer of the law and friendly toward the Amish.
Stopping in front of her, he pushed his tan hat up with one finger. “Tell me exactly what happened here this morning, Miss Imhoff.”
He took notes as she answered his questions and then talked to each of the children separately. Karen barely listened to her siblings’ accounts. Her entire attention was focused on the man being cared for by the emergency personnel.
Her fingers itched to touch the Englischer’s face again. She wanted to reassure him, and herself, that he was going to be all right.
The sheriff followed Jacob to where he’d found the tire tracks, took pictures and placed yellow plastic markers at the site. When he finished, he approached Karen’s father. “Mr. Imhoff, the children can go on to school, but I may have more questions for them later.”
Papa nodded, but Karen could tell he wasn’t pleased. This was outsider business. Papa wanted nothing to do with it. The children, on the other hand, shared excited looks. They would have plenty to tell their friends when they finally got to school. Within a day everyone in the community would know what had taken place on the Imhoff farm this morning.
One of the ambulance crew returned Karen’s coat and then loaded their patient into the ambulance. As she slipped the wool jacket on, she felt the stranger’s warmth surround her. Lifting the collar to her face, she breathed in the spicy-woodsy scent that clung to the dark wool.
His fate was out of her hands now. As the emergency vehicle drove away, she realized she would never see her Englischer again.
CHAPTER TWO (#ua2947530-3874-5143-91c8-63ffb95308e1)
John wiped the last trace of shaving lather from his neck with one of the hospital’s coarse white towels. The face staring back at him remained as unfamiliar today as the new shoes on his feet.
How could a man forget what he looked like? How could he forget who he was, his own name?
Turning on the water, he rinsed the blue disposable blade. He knew how to use a razor but not where he’d purchased his last one or what brand he preferred. Things every man knew. It seemed only the personal parts of his memory were missing. It was the most frustrating part of his condition.
Traumatic amnesia his doctors called it. Those two words seemed woefully inadequate to describe the entity that had swallowed his life the way a black hole swallowed a star without letting a single ray of light escape.
He almost laughed at the absurdity of his thought. He could remember that weird trivial fact but not his own name. How ridiculous was that?
His doctors said his memory would return in time. They told him not to force it. Yet after eight days his past remained a blank slate. He was sick of hearing their reassurances.
“I’d like to put them in my shoes and see if they could take their own advice,” he muttered as he put away his razor. Chances were good they’d be doing the same thing he was. Relentlessly trying to make himself remember.
Looking up, he stretched his hand toward the likeness in the mirror and forced a smile to his stiff lips. “Hello, my name is…”
Nothing.
Nothing came to mind this morning just as nothing had come to mind for the past week. The only identity he had was the one the hospital had given him. John Doe.
Staring at the mirror, he said, “Hi, I’m Andy. Hello, I’m Bill. I’m Carl. I’m David. My name is Edward.”
If he did happen on the right name would he even know it? Rage and frustration ripped through him, bringing on a crushing headache that nearly took him to his knees.
“Who am I?” he shouted. His fingers ached where they gripped the porcelain lip of the sink.
His whole life was gone. He couldn’t pull a single relevant detail out of the darkness in his mind.
He touched the bandage on the side of his scalp. According to the local law enforcement, he had been beaten, dumped in a ditch and left with no wallet or identification. Every effort to identify him was under way, but with no success thus far. His fingerprints and DNA weren’t in the system. No one was looking for a man fitting his description. Even TV reports and newspaper articles had failed to bring in one solid lead.
Somewhere he must have a mother, a father, maybe even a wife, but the man in the mirror had no faces or names for anyone he’d known before waking up in the hospital.
“Too bad I wasn’t microchipped like—”
Like who? Like what? The thought slipped away before he could fully grasp it. His head began pounding again. The pain worsened each time he tried to concentrate.
Forced to leave the past alone, he buttoned the last button on the gray flannel shirt the hospital social worker had purchased for him. The shirt was new. The one he’d been wearing couldn’t be salvaged but the jeans were the ones he’d been found in. They fit well enough, although he’d lost some weight. Eating seemed so unimportant.
A knock sounded at the door to his room. He moved to sit on the edge of his bed and winced at the pain in his bruised ribs. Someone had planted a kick on two in his side after they’d split his skull. He said, “Come in.”
The door swung open, revealing a tall, blond man in a sheriff’s uniform. John had been expecting Nick Bradley, the officer in charge of his case.
Sheriff Bradley said, “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I can be. Thanks for giving me a lift.”
John was being discharged. After a week and a day of testing and probing he’d been declared fit. Physically, he was in good shape so the hospital had no reason to keep him.
Mentally? That was a different story. Leaving this room suddenly seemed more daunting than anything he could imagine. How did he start over when he had no point to start over from?
No, that wasn’t exactly true. He had one point of reference. His life started a week ago in a ditch outside the town of Hope Springs, Ohio. That was where he had to go.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” The sheriff clearly wasn’t in favor of John’s plan.
“I must have been in Hope Springs for a reason. Seeing the place might trigger something. Besides, it’s all I have.”
“I still think you’d be better off staying here in Millersburg, but I can see you aren’t going to change your mind.”
Reaching into his breast pocket, Sheriff Bradley with-drew a thick white envelope. He held it out. “My cousin Amber lives in Hope Springs. She’s a nurse-midwife there. She knows about your situation. She wanted me to give you this.”
“What is it?” John reached for the envelope.
“Her church took up a collection for you.”
John opened the package and found himself staring at nearly a thousand dollars. Overwhelmed by the generosity of people he didn’t know, he blinked hard. Tears stung the back of his eyes. He hadn’t cried since—
It was there, just at the back of his mind, a feeling of grief, a feeling of overwhelming sadness. But why or for whom he had no idea. The harder he tried to concentrate on the feeling the faster it slipped away.
He forced himself to focus on the present. “Please tell your cousin how grateful I am.”
“You can tell her yourself when you see Doc White to get your stitches out.”
After gathering his few belongings together, John bid the nursing staff farewell and slipped into the passenger’s seat of the squad car parked in front of the hospital. Within minutes they were outside the city and cruising along a narrow ribbon of black asphalt.
The highway rose and fell over gentle hills, past manicured farms and occasional stands of thick woodlands. Looking out the window he saw herds of dairy cattle near the fences. The cows barely glanced up at their passing. A half-dozen times they came upon black buggies pulled by briskly trotting horses. Each vehicle sported a bright orange triangle on the back warning motorists it was a slow-moving vehicle.
John waited for something, anything, to look familiar. He held tight to the hope that returning to where he had been found would jog his absent memory. As they finally rolled into the neat small town of Hope Springs he was once again doomed to disappointment. Nothing looked familiar.
Sheriff Bradley pulled up in front of a Swiss-chalet-styled inn and said, “This is the only inn in town. The place is run by an Amish woman named Emma Wadler. The rooms are clean but nothing fancy.”
Now that he was actually at his destination, John struggled to hide his growing fears. How would he go about searching for answers? Was he going to stand on the street corner and ask each person who walked by if he looked familiar? When the sheriff got out, John forced himself to follow.
A bell over the doorway sounded as the men walked into the building. The place was cozy, charming and decorated with beautifully carved wooden furniture. An intricately pieced, colorful quilt hung over the massive stone fireplace at one end of the lobby. A display of jams for sale sat near the front door.
Behind the counter stood a small woman in blue Amish garb. Her red-brown hair was neatly parted down the middle and pulled back under a white bonnet. She was talking to someone inside a room behind the desk. She glanced toward the men and said, “I will be with you in a minute, gentlemen.”
John watched her eyes closely for the slightest sign of recognition. There was none.
Turning her attention back to the person inside her office, she said, “I would gladly send overflow guests to your farm, cousin. It would be much better than telling them they must go to Millersburg or to Sugarcreek.”
A woman replied, “We have spare rooms and as long as they don’t mind living plain it will work. The extra money would be most welcome. If I can get Dat to agree to it, that is.”
There was something pleasing about the unseen woman’s voice. He enjoyed the singsong cadence. Her accent made will sound like vil and welcome sound like vell-com. It was familiar somehow.
The grandfather clock in the corner began to chime the hour. John reached into the front pocket of his jeans, but found it empty.
Confused, he looked down. Something belonged there. Something was missing.
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
John turned around as the inn owner began a conversation with Nick. The hidden woman came out of the office and headed for the front door. She wore a dark blue dress beneath a heavy coat. An Amish cap covered her blond hair. Slender and tall, she moved with unhurried steps and innate grace. When she happened to glance in his direction, John’s breath froze in his chest. His heart began thudding wildly.
Rushing across the room, he grabbed her arm in a crushing grip. “I know you. What’s my name? Who am I?”
* * *
Karen recoiled in shock when a man grabbed her arm and began shouting at her. She threw up one hand to protect herself and tried to twist out of his grasp.
“Tell me who I am,” he shouted again, his face only inches from hers.
A second later, the sheriff was between her and her assailant. Pushing the man back, Sheriff Bradley said, “John, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I know her. I know her face. She knows who I am,” he insisted, pointing at Karen.
By this time, Emma had rounded the counter and reached Karen’s side, adding another body between Karen and the angry man. “Cousin, are you all right?”
Rubbing her forearm, Karen nodded. “I’m fine.”
Karen glanced at the man and recognition hit. This was her Englischer, the man she had discovered lying injured beside their lane. That recognition must have shown on her face.
His eyes widened with hope. “You know me, right? You know my name.”
She shook her head. “Nee. I do not.”
The sheriff spoke calmly but firmly. “John, this is Karen Imhoff. She’s the one who found you.”
His body went slack in the sheriff’s hold. The color drained from his face as the hope in his eyes died. His look of pain and disappointment twisted her heart into a knot.
She said, “It was my little sister who spotted you lying in the weeds.”
His eyes suddenly narrowed. “I was told I was unconscious when the paramedics arrived. How is it that I know your face?”
As her racing heart slowed and her fright abated, Karen took a step closer. He was alive and standing here before her. Joy gladdened her heart. He had been in her thoughts and prayers unceasingly. It took all her willpower not to reach out and touch his face.
She said, “You opened your eyes and spoke to me. You told me you were cold. I put my coat over you.”
The sheriff released his grip on John. “She doesn’t know anything about you. I’ve already questioned her and her family. There’s no connection between you.”
A look of resignation settled over John’s features. He raised a hand to his forehead and rubbed it as if trying to rub away pain. “I’m sorry if I hurt or frightened you, Miss Imhoff. Please forgive me.”
He did not remember her holding him close. Perhaps that was for the best. She had come to the aid of a stranger, nothing more. The rest, the closeness, the connection she felt with him, those things would remain in her secret daydreams.
“You are forgiven,” she said quietly. What she didn’t understand was why he had insisted that she tell him his own name.
The sheriff looked toward the innkeeper. “Sorry for the disturbance, Emma. This is John Doe, the man found injured near here a week ago. John has amnesia.”
“What does this mean?” Karen asked, unfamiliar with the English term.
John’s eyes locked with hers. Once again she felt a stirring bond with him deep in her bones. It was suddenly hard to breathe.
He said, “It means I can’t remember anything that happened before I was hurt. Not even my own name, but I remember your face and the sound of your voice.”
Compassion drenched Karen’s heart and brought the sting of tears to her eyes. His suffering had not ended when the ambulance took him away from her.
Sheriff Bradley said, “John needs a room for a little while, Emma. He doesn’t have any ID so I came to vouch for him in person.”
Emma said, “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything available for a week. I just rented my last room an hour ago. You know the quilt auction begins tomorrow. It runs for several days, and then there is the Sutter wedding. By next Friday I will have a room.”
Clearly upset with himself, Nick said, “I’m sorry, John. I should have called ahead. They aren’t normally booked up here. I know you had your heart set on staying in Hope Springs. I didn’t even think about the auction being this week. I’ll take you back to Millersburg. We can find a place for you there.”
“We have a room to let.” Karen’s desire to help John overrode her normally good sense. He was a stranger lost in a strange land. He needed her help today as much as he’d needed it the day she found him.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. Karen bit the corner of her lip. What had she done? She should have discussed this with her father first, but she had already made the offer and couldn’t withdraw it.
When she explained things her father would realize the benefits of this additional income. Especially after she had failed to get the teaching job.
Their family’s income had been severely limited following her father’s injury a month earlier. A farrier couldn’t shoe horses with his arm in a cast. There were still medical bills that needed to be paid in addition to their everyday expenses.
She would point out all those things, but she knew he would not be pleased if she brought this man and his English trouble into their house.
She fidgeted under John’s unwavering gaze. Finally, he said, “Your farm was the first place I had planned to visit when I arrived. Renting a room there makes sense.”
“For a week,” she stressed. “After that, Emma will have a place for you here.”
“It seems you’ve come to my rescue once again.” He held out his hand to seal the deal and gave her a crooked grin. It deepened the lines that bracketed his mouth, lending him a boyish charm.
With only a brief hesitation, she accepted his hand. Her pulse skipped a beat then pounded erratically as her small hand was swallowed by his large, warm one. It wasn’t soft, it was calloused and rough like the hand of a man who worked outdoors for a living. A blush heated her cheeks, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.
She remembered him so clearly. The shape of his brow and the stone-gray color of his eyes, even the way the stubble of his beard had felt beneath her fingers. She remembered, too, the husky sound of his voice when he had told her she was beautiful.
Something light and sweet slipped through her veins. An echo of a time when she’d been a giddy teenager smitten with a local boy. A time before she’d had to become a surrogate mother to her younger siblings and put her girlhood dreams away.
Thoughts of the children brought her back to earth with a thud. She pulled her hand away from John. This man was an outsider and thus forbidden to her. She had offered him a room to rent for a week and nothing more. Her strange fascination with him had to stop, and quickly.
Gesturing toward the door, she said, “I must get home.”
He said, “I don’t have any sort of transportation. May I hitch a ride with you?”
Oh, Dat really wasn’t going to like this, but what could she do? She gave a stiff smile. “Of course.”
Emma asked quietly, “Karen, are you sure about this?”
Pretending a bravery she didn’t feel, Karen answered, “Yes. Goodbye, cousin, I will see you at Katie’s wedding next Thursday.”
Emma didn’t look happy, but she nodded. “Give Onkel Eli my best.”
John shook hands with the sheriff, who promised to check up on him soon, and then followed Karen out the door. Her nervousness increased tenfold as he fell into step beside her.
He was taller than she thought he would be. She had been called a beanpole all her life, but he stood half a head taller than she did. She felt delicate next to his big frame. It was a strange feeling. Spending the next half hour in this man’s company in the close confines of her buggy might prove to be awkward.
After unlatching Molly’s lead from the hitching rail, Karen was surprised when John took her elbow to help her climb in the buggy. She was used to taking care of herself and everyone else. It had been a long time since someone had wanted to take care of her.
John walked slowly around the front of the horse. Raising a hand, he patted the mare’s neck and made a soothing sound as he cast a critical eye over the animal. “She’s got good conformation. She’s a Standardbred, right?”
“Ja. You know about horses?”
“I think I do.” He scratched Molly under the earpiece of her headstall. The mare tipped her head and rubbed against his hand in horsy bliss.
It seemed he could charm horses as well as foolish Amish maids. She said, “We must be going.”
He nodded and climbed into the buggy beside her. Karen turned the horse and sent her trotting briskly down the street. The fast clatter of Molly’s hooves matched almost exactly the rapid pounding of Karen’s heart. It was going to be a long ride home.
Clucking her tongue, she slapped the reins against Molly’s rump, making the mare go faster. The sooner they reached the farm, the better.
Karen’s skin prickled at John’s nearness. He had been in her thoughts and prayers constantly since that day. The special connection she’d felt between them had not diminished. She had wondered who he was and if he had gotten better. She’d wondered, too, if he had a wife to care for him. She had prayed he wasn’t alone.
Now, he had come back to her.
He had been helpless as a babe that day, a man in need of tender care. The vibrant man beside her now was anything but helpless. What had she been thinking to invite him into her home?
He remained silent beside her as they drove out of town. Covertly, Karen glanced his way often, but he was scanning the countryside and paying her no mind. The cold, rainy weather of last week had give way to sunny days of Indian summer. The countryside was aglow with the vibrant hues of autumn. It should have been a pleasant ride. Instead, Karen felt ready to jump out of her skin.
After twenty minutes of listening only to the clip-clop of Molly’s hooves and the creaking of the buggy, John spoke at last. “This isn’t the way I came into Hope Springs with Sheriff Bradley. What road is this?”
She glanced at him. “It’s called Pleasant View Road. Does that mean something to you?”
He shook his head. “Nothing more than it’s well named. Where does it lead?”
“It makes a wide loop and goes back to Highway 39 about ten miles south of here. From there, you can go to the town of Sugarcreek or over to Millersburg.”
“Why would someone like me be on this road?”
Shrugging her shoulders, Karen said, “Because you were lost?”
He barely smiled. “If I wasn’t then, I am now.”
Her curiosity about him couldn’t be contained any longer. “The sheriff called you John Doe, but that is not your name?”
“No. John Doe is a name they give to any man who is unidentified. It’s usually given to a dead body, but fortunately for me I’m still alive.”
“This amnesia—will it go away?”
He stared into the distance for a long time before answering. Finally, he said, “The doctors tell me my memory may come back on its own or it may not come back at all.”
“It must be awful.” Her heart went out to him.
His attention swung back to her. “What can you tell me about the day you found me?”
“I was driving my younger brothers and sister to school. Normally they walk, but I had an appointment that day. I thought it would be easier just to drop them on my way.”
“Did you notice anything unusual that morning?”
Giving him a look of disbelief, she asked, “You mean other than finding an unconscious man by the side of the road?”
That brought a small, lopsided grin to his face, easing the tension between them. “Yes, other than finding me in a ditch, did you notice anything that was unusual or out of place?”
“Nothing.” She wanted to help him, but she couldn’t. “The sheriff has already asked us these questions.”
Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together in front of him. “I just thought you might have remembered something new since that day. Maybe you heard the sound of a car or voices. Do you have a dog?”
“We do not.”
“Do you remember hearing anything during the night?”
“Nee, I heard nothing unusual. I’m sorry.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded in resignation. “That’s okay. Are we close to your farm?”
“It’s not far now. You will see the sign.”
“Tell me about yourself, Karen Imhoff.” He fixed her with an intense stare that brought the blood rushing to her face.
“There is not much to tell. As you can see I am Amish. My mother passed away some years ago so I am in charge of my father’s house.”
“What did you mean when you told the innkeeper that your lodgers would have to live plain?”
He really didn’t know? Grinning, she said, “You will be wanting your money back when you find out.”
“Do you give refunds?”
“Nee, when money goes into my pocket it does not come out easily.”
“Okay, then tell me gently.”
“Plain living means many things. No electricity and all that comes with it. No television, no computers, no radio.”
“Wow. What did I get myself into?”
She glanced at him, but he was smiling and didn’t look upset. Feeling oddly happy, she said, “We go to bed early and we get up early. My father farms and is the local farrier, but we will not put you to work shoeing horses.”
“Thanks for the small favor.”
“I have two brothers, Jacob is fourteen and Noah is ten. I also have a sister. Anna is eight.”
His mood dimmed. “I wonder if I have brothers or sisters.”
“You are welcome to some of mine,” she offered, hoping to make him smile again. It worked.
“Don’t you find it hard to live without electricity?”
“Why would I? People lived happily without electricity for many centuries.”
“Good point. Why don’t the Amish use it?”
“We are commanded by the Bible to live separate from the world. Having electricity joins us to the world in a way that is bad for us. We do not shun all modern things. Only those things that do not work to keep our families and our communities strong and close together.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“That is because you are an Englischer.”
“I’m a what?” He frowned.
“English. An outsider. Our word for those who are not of our faith. This is our lane.”
Karen slowed the horse and turned onto the narrow road where a large white sign with a black anvil painted on it said, Horse Shoeing. Closed Wednesdays. The word Wednesdays was currently covered by a smaller plaque that said Until Further Notice.
John sat up straighter. “Where did you find me?”
“A little ways yet.”
When they approached the spot, Karen drew the horse to a stop. John jumped down and walked into the knee-high winter-brown grass and shrubs along the verge of the road. The sheriff had combed the area for clues but found nothing.
Karen kept silent and waited as John made his own search. One look at his face made her realize John Doe was still a wounded man, but he was in need of more than physical care.
CHAPTER THREE (#ua2947530-3874-5143-91c8-63ffb95308e1)
John stared at the matted grass around his feet. No trace of the incident remained. No blood stains, no footprints, no proof that he had ever lain here.
Squatting down, he touched the grass and waited for an answer to appear. Why had he been in this place?
Had his injury been an accident or had someone deliberately tried to kill him? Had it been a robbery gone bad as the sheriff thought? No matter what the explanation, the fact remained that he’d been left here to die. The knowledge brought a sick feeling to the pit of his stomach.
Standing, he shoved his hands in his pockets and scanned the horizon. All around him lay farm fields. To the east, a wooded hill showed yellow and crimson splashes of autumn colors. A cold breeze flowed around his face. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, hoping to trigger some hint of familiarity.
Nothing.
He searched his empty mind for some sliver of recognition and drew a blank.
He’d been so sure coming here would make him remember. This was where his old life ended. He wanted to see the scattered bits of it lying at his feet. He wanted to pick up the puzzle pieces and assemble them into something recognizable. Only there was nothing to pick up.
Now what?
He glanced toward the buggy where Karen sat. He’d been found on her land. Did she know more than she was letting on? Sitting prim and proper with her white head covering and somber clothes, it was hard to imagine she could be involved in something as ugly as an assault. But what did he know about her, anyway? Maybe coming here had been a mistake. He would proceed with caution until he knew more about her and her family.
She watched him silently. As their eyes met, he read sympathy in their depths. Turning away he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. The pain overrode the sting of unshed tears. He didn’t want sympathy. He wanted answers.
John didn’t know how long he stood staring into the distance. Eventually, Molly grew impatient and began pawing the ground. He glanced at Karen. She drew her coat tight under her chin. He realized the sun was going down and it was getting colder.
Walking back to the buggy, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting so long.”
She smiled softly. “I don’t mind, but I think Molly wants her grain.”
“Then we should go.” Walking around to the opposite side he climbed in.
“Did you remember anything?” she asked.
“No.” He stared straight ahead as his biggest fear slithered from the dark corner of his mind into the forefront. What if he never remembered? What if this blankness was all he’d ever have?
No, he refused to accept that. He had family, friends, a job, a home, a car, a credit card, a bank account, something that proved he existed. His life was out there waiting for him. He wouldn’t give up until he found it.
When they reached the farmyard, Karen drew the mare to a stop in front of a two-story white house. A welcoming porch with crisp white railings and wide steps graced the front. Three large birdhouses sat atop poles around the yard ringed with flowerbeds. Along one side of the house several clotheslines sagged under the weight of a dozen pairs of pants, dresses, shirts, socks and sheets all waving in the cool evening breeze.
Across a wide expanse of grass stood a large red barn and several outbuildings. In the corral, a pair of enormous caramel-colored draft horses munched on a round hay bale with a dozen smaller horses around them. Molly whinnied to announce her return. The herd replied in kind.
John swallowed hard against the pain in his chest. What did his home look like? Was someone waiting to greet him? Were they worried sick about where he was? If that was the case, why hadn’t they come forward?
Something of what he was thinking must have shown on his face. Karen laid her hand on his. The warmth of her touch flooded through him.
* * *
Sympathy had prompted Karen’s move. She saw and understood the struggle he was going through. “Let God be your solace, John. He understands all that you are going through. You are not alone.”
John nodded, but didn’t speak.
Karen turned to get out of the buggy but froze. Her stern-faced father stood before her. He looked from John to Karen and demanded, “What is the meaning of this, daughter?”
Stepping down from the buggy, she brushed the wrinkles from the front of her dress. “Papa, this is Mr. John Doe. John, this is my father, Eli Imhoff. Papa, I have rented a room to Mr. Doe.”
Eli Imhoff’s dark bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You have, have you?”
Karen had learned the best way to handle her father was to charge straight ahead. She switched to Pennsylvania Dutch, the German dialect normally spoken in Amish homes, knowing John would not be able to understand them. “I will show him to his room and then I will speak with you about this.”
“Better late than never, I’m thinking,” Eli replied in the same language.
“I’m sure you’ll agree this was a goot idea. You know we need the money. The dawdy haus is sitting empty. This is only for a week, and he is paying us the same amount that Emma charges her customers.”
“And if I say nee?”
She acquiesced demurely. “Then I shall drive him back to town. Although Emma has no room for him at her inn I’m sure he can find someplace to stay.”
John spoke up. “Look, if this is a problem I can make other arrangements.”
Karen crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow as she waited for her father to answer.
The frown her father leveled at her said they would hold further discussions on the matter when they were alone. Looking to John, he said, “You are welcome to stay the night.”
“Thank you, sir. I promise not to be any trouble.”
“You are the man my daughter found on the road, ja?”
“I am. I want to thank you for your help that day.”
“We did naught but our Christian duty,” Eli said, turning away.
As her father disappeared into the house, Karen swung back to John. “Come. You will have a house to yourself. It has its own kitchen, sitting room and bedroom. It is the dawdy haus but my grandparents have both passed away and it is not in use. You may take your meals with us unless you enjoy cooking.”
“What is a dawdy haus?” John asked as he pulled his small bag from behind the buggy seat.
“It means grandfather house. Among our people it is common to add a room or home onto the farmhouse so that our elderly relatives have a place to stay. Many times we have three or four generations living together under one roof. It is our way.”
“Sounds like a good way to me.”
She smiled at that. “I’m glad you think so.”
He swept one hand in front of him. “Lead the way.”
The dawdy haus had been built at a right angle to the main farmhouse. It was a single-story white clapboard structure with a smaller front porch. A pair of wooden chairs flanked a small table at the far end of the porch. The outside door opened into a small mudroom. A second door led directly into the kitchen.
Karen said, “We have gas lamps. Have you ever used them before?”
“I don’t know.”
She cringed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. There’s no point in tiptoeing around with your questions. Either I’ll remember a thing or I won’t. I won’t know until you ask.”
Striking a match, Karen raised it to the lamp and lit it. A soft glow filled the room, pushing back the growing darkness. She glanced at John and found him watching her intently. Suddenly, it seemed as if the two of them were cocooned alone inside the light.
The lamplight highlighted the hard planes of his face. She became acutely aware of him, of his size and the brooding look in his eyes. The tension in the room seemed to thicken. His gaze roved over her face. Her palms grew sweaty as her pulse quickened. She wondered again if she had made a serious mistake in bringing him here.
Yet, she could not have left him in Hope Springs any more than she could have passed by him in the ditch without helping. There was something about John Doe that called to her.
He tried to hide his discomfort and his aloneness, but she saw it lurking in the depths of his eyes. He was afraid. She wanted to help him, wanted to ease his pain. He needed her.
The white bandage on his forehead stood out against his dark hair. She gave in to an overwhelming urge and reached out to touch his face. Her fingertips brushed against the gauze dressing. “Does it hurt?”
He turned his head aside. “It’s nothing.”
“You’re forgetting that I saw the gash.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “I’ve forgotten a lot of things.”
She let her hand drop to her side. How foolish of her. He wasn’t a stray puppy that needed her care. He was a grown man, and she was flirting with forbidden danger. For the first time in her life she understood how a moth could be drawn to the flame that would destroy it.
She must harden her heart against this weakness. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”
He grasped her arm as she started to turn away. “I can manage. If I need anything I’ll find you. Right now, I’d like to be alone. It’s been a long day.”
“Of course.” She handed him the box of matches. “Be sure and turn off the gas lamps when you leave the house. There are kerosene lamps, too, if you need them. Supper will be ready in about an hour. You may join us at the table or I can bring something to you.”
“If it’s all the same, I’m not up to company and I’m not really hungry. Thank you, though, for everything.”
Slowly, he withdrew his hand from her arm in a gentle caress. She rubbed at the warmth that remained. She must not confuse his gratitude with affection nor give in to her feelings of attraction. To do so would be unthinkable.
She mumbled, “It is our Christian duty to care for those in need. I will be back with linens and a pillow for you in a little while.”
As she left the house, she paused on the porch to slow her racing pulse. Her family must not see her flustered.
She did not doubt that God had brought John Doe into her life again for a reason but that reason was hidden from her. Was it so that she might help this outsider? Or had John Doe been sent to test the strength of her faith? Would she pass such a test or would she fail?
* * *
John drew a deep breath as soon as Karen was gone. He couldn’t seem to concentrate when she was near. He didn’t understand why. The woman wasn’t a great beauty, but she had an elegant presence he found very attractive. Perhaps it was the peace in her tranquil blue eyes or the surety with which she carried herself.
She knew exactly where she belonged in her small reclusive world while he was adrift in an ever-changing sea of turmoil that sought to swallow his sanity along with his memories. Her empathy had quickly become his lifeline. One he was afraid to let go of.
“Get real. I can’t hang on the apron strings of an Amish farmer’s daughter.”
Pushing his attraction to her to the back of his mind, he studied the small kitchen. He was surprised to see a refrigerator. On closer inspection, it turned out to be gas not electric, but it was empty and had apparently had the gas turned off. The few drawers were filled with normal kitchen utensils. The stove was wood burning.
Did he even know how to cook?
He opened a cupboard and pulled out a heavy cast-iron skillet. Hefting it in his hand, he suddenly saw it full of sizzling trout. He saw himself setting it on a trivet, hearing murmurs of appreciation, a woman’s lighthearted laughter.
He spun around to face the table knowing someone sat there, but when he did—the image vanished.
“No!”
The loss was so sharp he doubled over in pain. Who was the woman with him? His mother? A sister? A wife? Where had it taken place? When? Was it a real memory or only a figment of his imagination?
He looked at the pan he held and saw only a blackened skillet. Setting it on the stovetop he rubbed his hands on his thighs. It had been a real memory, he was sure of it. But had it been a month ago or ten years ago? It held no context. It faded before he could grasp hold and examine it.
Pulling himself together, he blew out a shaky breath. Okay, it had only been a flash. But it could mean he was on the mend.
Hope—new and crisp—flooded his body. Maybe the doctors had been right and time was all he needed. He had time. He had nothing but time.
Using the matches Karen had given him, he lit a kerosene lamp sitting on the counter and began walking through the rest of the house. The wide plank floors creaked in places as he entered the sitting room containing several chairs and a small camelback sofa. None of the furniture shouted “kick back and relax.” It was utilitarian at best.
Down a narrow hallway he passed a small bathroom and noted with relief the modern fixtures. At the end of the hall he opened the door to a sparsely furnished bedroom.
The narrow bed, covered with a blue striped mattress, stood against a barren white wall. A bureau sat against the opposite wall while a delicate desk graced the corner by the window. The walls were empty of any decorations. The one chair in the room was straight-backed with a cane seat.
Crossing the wooden floor, he set the lamp on the bedside table. He stared at the thin mattress, then sat down and bounced slightly. It was one shade better than his hospital bed but only two shades softer than the floor. Apparently, the Amish didn’t go in for luxury.
He lay back on the bed and folded his arms behind his head to stare at the ceiling. Was his own bedroom this bare? He waited for another spark of memory, but nothing came.
The pain in his head had settled to a dull ache he’d almost grown used to. There were pain pills in his duffel bag, a prescription filled at the hospital pharmacy, but he didn’t like the idea of using them. His thinking was muddled enough without narcotics. He closed his eyes and laid one arm across his face. Slowly, the tension left his body and he dozed.
A rap on the door brought him awake. He sat up surprised to see it was fully dark beyond the window outside. Karen stood in the doorway, her arms loaded with sheets, quilts and a pillow. She asked, “Did I wake you?” “No. I was only resting.” John wasn’t about to make Karen feel bad after all that she’d done for him. He rose to take the linens from her. Their fresh sun-dried fragrance filled his nostrils.
Taking a step back, she folded her arms nervously. “I left you a plate of food on the table. You should eat. You need to regain your strength.”
“Thanks.” He expected her to hurry away, but she lingered.
“Is the house to your satisfaction?” she asked.
“It’s great. Better than a four-star motel. That’s a place where people can stay when they’re traveling—if you didn’t know.” Did he sound like a fool or what?
An amused grin curved her full lips. “I know what a motel is. We do travel sometimes. I have even been to Florida to visit my great-aunt and uncle there.”
“I’ll bet the horse got tired trotting all that way.”
Her giggle made him smile. A weight lifted from his chest.
Composing herself, Karen said, “I took the train.”
It surprised him how much he enjoyed talking to her. He asked, “Can’t you fly?”
“No, my arms get too tired,” she answered with a straight face.
He laughed for the first time since he’d awakened in the hospital. “I don’t know Amish rules.”
“We can’t own automobiles, but we can hire a driver to take us places that are too far for a buggy trip. With our bishop’s permission, we can travel by train or by bus and even by airplane if the conditions are warranted.”
“That must be tough.”
“That’s the point. If it is easy to get in a car and go somewhere, to a new city or a new job, then families become scattered and the bonds that bind us together and to God become frayed and broken.”
“It’s an interesting philosophy.”
“It is our faith, not an idea. It is the way God commands us to live. How is your headache?”
“It’s gone,” he said in surprise.
“I thought so. You look rested. And now you must eat before your supper gets cold.”
He followed her down the hall to the kitchen. A plate covered with aluminum foil sat on the table. He peeled back the cover and the mouthwatering aroma of roast chicken and vegetables rose with the steam. His stomach growled. He was hungry. “Smells good.”
He hesitated, then said, “I remembered something tonight.”
Her eyes brightened. “What?”
If he shared his small victory would she think he was nuts? He didn’t care if she did. He was tired of being alone.
“I’ve cooked trout before. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but it’s my first real memory. At least, I believe it was a memory.”
“It is a start. We must give thanks to God.”
His elation slipped a notch. Wasn’t God the one who’d put him in this situation? If he were to give thanks it would have to be for remembering something important—like his name.
She said, “At least you know one more thing about yourself.”
He could cook fish, he had no criminal record and he didn’t crave drugs. Yeah, he was off to a roaring good start in his quest to collect personal information. Maybe tomorrow he’d find he knew how to sharpen a pencil.
Depression lowered its dark blanket over him. “Thanks for the supper.”
“You are most welcome. I will expect you at our breakfast table in the morning,” she stated firmly. The look in her eyes told him she was used to being the boss.
Her family would be there, people who would stare at him with pity or worse. Was he ready for that?
Not waiting for his answer, she said, “I will send Jacob to get you if you don’t appear. No, I will send Noah. His endless questions will make you wish you had stayed in Hope Springs. The only way to silence him is to feed him. Guten nacht, John Doe.”
“Good night, Karen.”
The ribbons of her white bonnet fluttered over her shoulders as she spun around and headed out the door. It appeared he wouldn’t be allowed to hide here in the house if she had her way.
That was okay. He wouldn’t mind seeing her face across the breakfast table or at any other time. Why wasn’t she married?
He reined in the thought quickly. It was none of his business. She was an attractive woman with a vibrant personality, but he was in no position to think about flexing his social skills. What if he had a wife waiting for him somewhere?
He stared at his left hand. No discernible pale band indicated he normally wore a wedding ring. It wasn’t proof positive, of course. Not every married man wore a wedding band. Did he feel married?
How could he remember frying trout and not remember if he had a wife?
The creaking of a floorboard in the other room caught his attention. Was there someone in the house with him? His mouth went dry as a new fear struck.
Had someone come back to finish the job and make sure he was dead?
CHAPTER FOUR (#ua2947530-3874-5143-91c8-63ffb95308e1)
Grabbing a knife from the drawer beside the sink, John walked slowly to the doorway of the sitting room and scoped it out. It was empty.
Was he imagining things now? He started to turn away, but another sound stopped him. He focused on the sofa just as the face of a little girl peeked over the back. The moment she saw him watching she ducked down again.
Relief made him light-headed. Karen had mentioned she had a sister. It seemed one Imhoff was too curious about him to wait until morning. He said, “I see you.”
“No, you don’t,” came her reply.
Feeling foolish, he laid the knife on the table, then he crossed the sitting room and bent over the sofa. Looking down, he saw her huddled into a little ball. “Okay, now I see you.”
Wearing a dark blue dress with a white apron and a white bonnet identical to her older sister’s she looked like a miniature Karen. She nodded and grinned. “Ja, now you see me.”
Scrambling to her feet, she sidestepped to the other end of the sofa. “You are my dead man. I saw you in the ditch. Everyone said I made it up, but I didn’t.”
“I was in the ditch, but I wasn’t dead.”
She moved around the room trailing her fingers along the furniture. “I know. God didn’t want you, either. We are just alike.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. “I’m not sure we are.”
“It’s true,” she insisted. “This house belonged to my grossmammi.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
She cocked her head sideways. “Really? It means grandmother. These are her things, but God wanted her in heaven, and she had to leave her things here.”
John sat on the sofa. “Do you think your grandmother will mind that I’m using them?”
She shook her head. “She liked it when people came to visit.”
He said, “My name is John. What’s your name?”
“Anna.”
“It’s nice to meet you Anna. What did you mean when you said we are the same?”
“God didn’t want me to go to heaven the day my mother died. Seth, Carol and Liz got to go to Heaven with Mama, but God didn’t want me. And he didn’t want you. Why do you think that is?”
“I have no idea.”
She came to stand in front of him. Tipping her head to one side, she said, “Papa says it is because God has something special for me to do here on earth. I don’t think it’s fair, do you?”
John stared at his toes in hopes that an appropriate answer would appear. None did. He wasn’t up to discussing the meaning of life with this odd child. “I think maybe you should talk to your dad or Karen about it.”
“Okay. Are you going to eat all that chicken?”
“I was, but I’m willing to share.”
Spinning around she bounced toward the kitchen and settled in one of the chairs. He followed her and took a seat at the head of the table. Uncovering the plate, he pushed it toward her. “I’ll let you choose the piece you want.”
“I like the leg, but you are the guest.”
“That makes it easy because I like the thigh.”
He watched her bite into his supper. “Anna, can I ask you a few questions?”
She considered his request for a moment then nodded. “Okay.”
“What’s with the bonnets that you and your sister wear?”
Reaching up to touch her head, she asked, “You mean our prayer kapp?”
“Yeah, why do you wear them? I know you do because you are Amish, but why?”
She looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you joshing me?”
“No.”
“It says in the Bible that I should cover my head when I pray. I should pray all the time so I wear this all the time. Sometimes I forget to pray, but Karen reminds me. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why were you in our ditch?”
“I don’t remember what I was doing there. I don’t remember anything that happened to me before you saw me. John Doe isn’t even my real name. It’s a name they gave me because I can’t remember my own.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Now you are joshing me?”
Shaking his head, he smiled and said, “I wish I were.”
The outside door opened and a teenage boy entered. He frowned at Anna. “You should not be here.”
She rolled her eyes. “Neither should you.”
“She’s not causing any trouble,” John said in defense of his visitor.
The boy ignored him. “Come now or I will tell Dat.”
Anna finished her chicken and licked her fingers. “This is my brother, Jacob. He says having an Englischer stay here will get us all in trouble with the bishop.”
John looked from Anna to her brother. “Is this true? Will my being here cause trouble?”
Jacob came into the room and took Anna by the hand. Looking at John he said, “You should leave this place.”
Turning around, Jacob left, taking his little sister with him.
It seemed getting to know the Imhoff family was going to be more difficult than John had anticipated.
* * *
Karen was cooking breakfast when John knocked at the door the following morning. She hadn’t had to send one of the children to wake him. After bidding him enter, she turned back to the stove and smiled as she stirred the frying potatoes. John was an early riser. That was one more thing he could add to his list about himself.
She moved the skillet off the heat. “Take a seat, Mr. Doe.”
He said, “Please call me John.”
Noah and Anna were already at the table sitting opposite each other but Eli and Jacob had not yet come in from the milking. Anna pointed to the chair opposite her. “Sit by Noah, John.”
He settled himself into the chair she indicated and looked at the boy beside him. “You must be Noah.”
Karen glanced over her shoulder to see Noah fairly bursting with curiosity.
“Ja, I am Noah. Is it true you can’t remember your name? Not even where you came from? Do you remember that you’re English or did someone tell you? How did you know how to talk? If you need to know how to use a knife and fork I can show you.”
Karen caught John’s eye and said, “I warned you.”
While John patiently answered Noah’s rapid-fire questions, Karen pulled her biscuits from the oven. Dumping them into a woven basket, she set it on the table in front of everyone.
Just then the front door opened. Her father and Jacob came in. After washing up, they took their places at the table. Karen sat down opposite John. Everyone folded their hands. Silently her father gave a blessing over the meal. He signaled he had finished by clearing his throat, then giving a brief nod to Karen. She began passing food down the table.
Eli said, “Guder mariye, Mr. Doe.”
“Good morning, sir.” John took a biscuit and watched with a bemused expression as the children dived into their food. By the time the plate of scrambled eggs reached him only a tablespoon’s worth remained.
Eli spoke to Karen. “William Yoder wants me to look at one of his draft horses this afternoon. His gelding has a split hoof. He wants my opinion on which treatment to try.”
She asked, “Do you need me to drive you?”
Jacob perked up with interest. “Can I go with you, Papa?”
Karen’s spoke quickly, “You have school today.” Jacob was growing up fast, but she wasn’t ready for him to take on their father’s tough and sometimes dangerous profession before it was necessary.
Sitting back in his chair, Jacob said, “I don’t see why I have to go to school now. Papa needs me at home to help him with the horses.”
“You will be out of school soon enough,” Karen said. “A few more months won’t do you any harm.”
Jacob made a sour face. “Ken Yoder has already left school. He is only two months older than me. I don’t need any more schooling. I want to work with you, Papa. I want to be a farrier.”
John said, “A farrier needs an education, too.”
Karen looked at him in surprise. It was becoming clear he did know a thing or two about horses.
“What do you know about it?” Jacob scowled at their guest.
“Jacob.” Eli’s firm tone rebuked his son.
Bowing his head, Jacob mumbled, “Forgive me.”
Spreading jam on a piping-hot biscuit, John said, “If the horse has a turned foot, a farrier needs a shoe to correct it for him. You would have to know how many degrees the foot was off true in order to make a shoe that brings it up to level. How thick does the shoe need to be to give such an angle? These things you learn in school.”
Anna shook her head. “We don’t learn horseshoeing in school. We learn how to read and write, how to speak English and how to do our sums.”
Eli smiled at her. “And did you finish your sums last night?”
Her bright face clouded over. “No, Papa.”
“And why not?” Karen asked, surprised to hear Anna had neglected her homework.
“Because I went to visit John Doe.”
John said, “I would have sent her back if I had known. She kept me company while I ate.”
Jacob glared at John and then spoke to Karen. “See. No goot can come of having him stay here.”
“Hush Jacob, this is not how we treat our guests,” Karen said.
Pushing back from the table, Jacob got up. “The Englischer will only bring trouble. You will see.”
He grabbed his coat and hat and headed outside, letting the door slam behind him. Eli rose, motioning to Karen to stay seated. “I will talk to the boy.”
Slipping his coat over his sling, he followed Jacob outside. Embarrassed by her brother’s display, Karen glanced at John.
He gave her a tight smile and said, “I’m sorry I upset him.”
“It’s not you.” She knew what troubled her brother and her heart ached for him.
Noah spoke around a mouthful of egg. “Jacob doesn’t like the English ever since the accident.”
Puzzled, John asked, “What accident?”
“The accident that killed our mother, brother and sisters,” Karen explained.
“That Englischer was drunk. He hit their buggy doing like seventy miles an hour,” Noah added dramatically.
Karen was thankful Noah had not been there that day. It had been she and Jacob who came upon the terrible carnage.
Karen reached across the table to grasp Noah and Anna’s hands. “We have forgiven him as God has asked us to do.”
Nodding solemnly, Noah agreed. “We have.”
Anna shook her head. “I don’t think Jacob has.”
Karen squeezed her hand. “We will pray Jacob finds forgiveness in his heart.”
John asked, “What happened to the driver?”
Letting go of her siblings, Karen folded her hands in her lap. “He had barely a scratch.”
Frowning slightly, John looked from the children to Karen. “How do you do that? How do you forgive someone who has done something so terrible?”
“It is our way,” Karen replied. Closing her eyes, she sought the peace that forgiveness always brought her.
When she opened her eyes, she found John’s gaze resting thoughtfully on her. Heat rose in her face. Hoping he hadn’t noticed, she said, “Hurry up children, or you will be late to school.”
In the resulting rush, Karen masked her nervousness by handing out lunch boxes, scarves and mittens. By the time the children were out the door, she had a better grip on her emotions.
John, on the other hand, looked ill at ease. The frown lines that creased his forehead yesterday were back.
Karen began picking up plates. “Would you like more coffee or more eggs?”
“I don’t want to cause you extra work. Coffee is fine if you have it.” He remained seated, elbows resting on the table.
“It’s not extra work. Cooking is what I do all day long. Ask now or go hungry until lunch.”
“Okay, more eggs would be great.”
“Did you sleep well?” She pulled a bowl of fresh eggs from the refrigerator.
“Not bad.”
She glanced his way. Something in the tone of his voice made her suspect he hadn’t. “The bed was not to your liking?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “It wasn’t that.”
“Then what was it?”
“Anna mentioned that Jacob thinks your family might get in trouble for having me here.”
Turning around, she folded her arms and stated as firmly as she could, “You were invited into this house. There is nothing wrong in that.”
“Are you sure? Because I got the feeling your father wasn’t happy to see me, either.”
“Papa has agreed that you may stay.”
It had taken some persuading, but Karen had been able to convince her father that having an outsider with them for a short period of time would not be harmful. She was sure her father didn’t suspect the depths of her interest in John Doe. If he did he would never allow him to stay.
To change the subject, she asked, “How do you like your eggs?”
“Scrambled.”
She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Is that a thing you remember?”
“I don’t know. It’s just the first thing that came to mind.”
Using a fork, she whipped the eggs quickly and added them to the skillet. “What is it that you would like to do today?”
“I need to discover why I was in this area.”
Wrapping the corner of her apron around the coffeepot handle, she carried it to the table. “If the sheriff could not discover the reason, what makes you think you can?”
He waited until she had finished filling his cup. After taking a sip, he said, “I don’t know if I can do better or not, but I have the most at stake. I have to try.”
Karen returned the coffeepot to the stove and stirred the eggs. “It seems a simple thing. If you were on this road, then you must have been on your way to, or coming from, one of the farms along this road.”
“It’s a simple thing if I was on this road in the first place because I wanted to be.”
She glanced at him and frowned. “What you mean?”
“The sheriff is going on the assumption that I was robbed and my car was stolen along with my wallet and any personal effects. I could’ve been dumped here by someone who was attempting to hide my body.”
She shook her head. “There are much better places to hide a body than on our farm lane.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
She dished the eggs onto a plate. After carrying it to the table, she got a second mug, filled it with coffee and sat down across from him. “Will you then visit every farm along this road?”
“That is the only plan I can come up with. What do you think?”
“It makes sense, but it may not be easy.” She hesitated not knowing exactly how to phrase her words.
“What do you mean?”
“There are over forty farms along Pleasant View road. Most belong to Amish farmers.”
“And?”
“They may not be comfortable talking to an outsider.”
Picking up a spoon, he stirred his coffee slowly. After a moment he looked directly into her eyes. “Will you help me?”
She glanced out the window toward the barn. Papa would not like her getting involved. It troubled her that she was considering helping this man against her father’s wishes. But she was.
John must have sensed her reluctance. He said, “If you aren’t comfortable with helping me, I understand. You don’t know anything about me.”
Tipping her head in his direction, she arched one eyebrow. “You don’t know much about you, either.”
That brought a ghost of a smile to his face. “True.”
Crossing her arms on the table she stared at him. “I know that you like scrambled eggs and that you don’t want to cause me trouble. I will do what I can to help you, but I am afraid it may not be much.”
Rising to her feet, Karen said, “Finish your breakfast. I have much work I must do today, but tomorrow I will drive you to some of our neighbors’ farms.”
“Are you sure we can’t get started today?”
She scowled at him. “Who will bake my bread? Who will mend the clothes my brothers must wear? Who will cook lunch for my father and our evening meal? These things I must do and many more. Tomorrow, I will make time for you. Besides, you need a day of rest. I see it in your eyes.”
He looked ready to protest, but finally nodded. “You’re right. One more day won’t make a difference. You rented me a house, you didn’t sign on to be my driver.”
“Goot, and you will rest, ja?”
“I’ll try. Does Hope Springs have a public library?”
“Yes. It is across from the English school on Maple Street. Why?”
“I need internet access. There is a national website for missing persons called NamUs. If anyone in the country reports a man of my description missing, the information will be posted there. I know Sheriff Bradley is doing all he can, but he doesn’t have much manpower to devote to my case. I must help myself.”
“Tomorrow, we can go there first thing.”
“No, I’d like to start questioning people first.”
“As you wish. Now you must finish your breakfast and get out from under my foot so I may wash the kitchen floor.”
He quickly finished his plate, swigged the rest of his coffee and carried everything to the sink. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Ja. Would you go to the barn and check on Dat?”
“Your dad?”
She nodded. “I’m worried about him. He is trying to do too much too soon. He broke his arm five weeks ago when a neighbor’s horse kicked him. He wants to get back to work, but the doctor says no. The broken bone damaged a nerve and he has lost feeling in his hand.”
“I’ll be happy to check on him.”
“Danki.”
He eyed her intently. “And that means?”
“It means, thank you.”
“How do you say, you’re welcome?”
“Du bischt wilkumm.”
He repeated the phrase and she was surprised by his almost perfect pronunciation. “Goot. Now, out, or you will find yourself with a mop in hand.”
She was smiling as he walked out, but her grin faded quickly. She had chosen to remain with her family and care for her younger brothers and sisters after their mother was killed. She had given up her chance to marry and have a family of her own because she had been needed here.
At twenty-five, she was considered an old maid by many in the community. She considered herself too old and too wise for a youthful infatuation, but that was exactly the way she felt around John.
He was handsome in his English way, but he was not Plain. So why did a smile on his face make her heart beat faster? It was wrong to think of him in such a way. To forget that would be to bring heartache to all her family. They had suffered enough already. She would not bring them more pain.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ua2947530-3874-5143-91c8-63ffb95308e1)
Stepping off the front porch, John looked up. The morning sky hung low, gray and overcast. The wind carried a hint of rain as it scattered fallen leaves across the ground in front of his feet. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Karen working in the kitchen through the windows. Once again he was struck by how gracefully she moved.
She wore a dark purple dress today with a black apron over it. The color accentuated her willowy frame. The ribbons of her white cap drew his attention to her slender neck, the curve of her jaw and her delicate ears.
He turned away from the sight, recognizing his interest for what it was. The attraction of a man to a lovely woman. He had no business thinking about any woman in a romantic light. Not until he’d solved the riddle of his past.
Heading toward the barn, he studied the looming structure. It was a huge, solid building, obviously well cared for. Pulling open one of the doors he entered into the dim interior. Instantly, the smells of animals assailed him along with the odors of hay, old wood and feed. He knew these smells the way he knew he was right-handed.
Off to the left was an area that served as Eli’s blacksmith shop. Brooms and assorted tools hung from horseshoes attached to the bare wooden walls and overhead beams. Two steel frames suspended from the ceiling had been rigged so they could be released to swing down on either side of a fitful horse during a shoeing. An anvil sat secured to a worn workbench. Beside it was a water barrel and racks of horseshoes of different sizes. A rolling cart in the corner contained all the tools a farrier needed in their proper places.
Walking over to the shoes, John picked one up. It was too heavy. He hefted another. They should be lighter. He didn’t know why, but he knew they should be.
The sound of a loud whinny greeted him. He replaced the shoes and moved toward the source. In the filtered daylight he made out a half dozen equine heads hanging over their stall doors to check out this newcomer.
He stopped at the first stall. Molly nuzzled at his shirt pocket. He scratched her head. “Sorry, I didn’t know I needed to bring a treat. I’ll do better tomorrow.”
“Do you like horses, Mr. Doe?”
John turned to see Mr. Imhoff approaching from the back of the barn. In his free hand he held a pitchfork.
“It appears that I do,” John answered.
“Is it true what my daughter says? That you have no memory of your life before you were found on our lane?”
“Yes, it’s true.”
“I have heard of such a thing. My father’s oldest brother was kicked in the head by a horse. It was a full day before he recovered his senses.”
“I have recovered my senses, just not any personal memories.”
“That is a strange burden for God to give a man, but He has His reasons even if we cannot understand them.” Hiding his bitterness at God, John turned back to Molly. “Your mare has nice confirmation. Do you plan to breed her?”
“I’ve already had two nice colts from her.” Eli began walking toward the back of the barn. John followed him to a small paddock where a black horse was trotting back and forth.
John leaned his elbows on the top rail and watched the animal with pleasure. “Hey, pretty boy. You look like you’ve got some get up and go,” he murmured softly.
A blinding pain made him wince. He saw another black horse, rail-thin with its hip bones sticking out. The animal was covered in sores and flies. Death hovered over him.
Sucking in a quick breath, John opened his eyes. The vision was gone.
Eli didn’t seem to notice anything unusual. He said, “This one’s name is One-Way, and he should look fast. His sire, Willows Way, won the Hamiltonian at the Meadowlands ten years ago.”
John rubbed the ache from his temple. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid that doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“It means his sire was a racehorse, a trotter and a goot one.”
John looked at the Amish farmer in his dark coat, long gray beard and worn black hat. “You are raising racehorses?”
Eli smiled. “Mostly I raise and train carriage horses. I bought my first Standardbred when I was a teenager. I was looking for a fast horse to impress my girlfriend.”
“How did that work out?”
“The courtship did not, but the horse did. I got interested in the breed, began to study trade magazines and it wasn’t long before I was breeding them myself. Back then I couldn’t afford the stud fees of high-profile stallions. I got very goot at losing money at what my wife called my foolishness.”
“Isn’t horse racing and betting against your religion?”
“Ja, it is a worldly thing and thus forbidden to us.” “Okay, then I’m confused.”
Eli’s grin widened. “There is nothing wrong in breeding a fine horse. They are God’s creatures, after all. If you can sell that horse for an honest price, there is nothing wrong with that, either. This one’s brother is doing well on the racing circuit this year.”
John smiled as understanding dawned. “I see. If the fine horse should win a race or two for some new owner, then the next foal from your mare will be worth even more money.”
“Ja. It is all in the hands of God. I try to remember to keep Him first in my life for He rewards His faithful servants.”
“When will you sell this fellow?”
“After the first of the year I will take him to the Winter Speed sale in Delaware, Ohio.”
The place meant nothing to John.
Eli said, “My daughter has taken a keen interest in you.”
John was surprised by the abrupt change of topic. “Your daughter has been very kind.”
“She has a goot heart. It was the same with her mother.” Eli’s voice became wistful.
“I’m sorry for your loss. Karen told me what happened.”
Eli turned to John. In a low steely voice, he said, “I would not want to see my daughter’s kindness repaid with sorrow. Be careful of that, John Doe.”
Taken aback, John stared at Eli. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble for the woman who’d shown him so much kindness. He nodded solemnly. “I will, sir. I promise.”
* * *
Late the following morning, Karen stopped the buggy where the lane met the highway and gave a sidelong glance at John seated beside her. He turned the collar of his coat up against the cold drizzle, but his excitement at finally getting to do something shimmered in his eyes.
“Which way would you like to go?” she asked.
“Which direction is the nearest interstate?”
She pointed north. “If you go through town and then take Yoder Road north about twenty-five miles you will reach the interstate.”
“Let’s go toward Hope Springs then and stop at the farms between here and the town. If I’m not from the area I most likely came in on a major highway.”
Slapping the reins against Molly’s rump, Karen sent the mare trotting down the blacktop. “I have one stop I need to make at the Sutters’ farm. Are you certain you are not from this area?”
“No. Except that no one has reported me missing from around here. And no one has recognized me from the TV piece the local news ran on me. Do you mind if I try my hand at driving?” he asked.
Surprised by his request, she said, “Nee, I do not mind. Do you know how to drive a horse?”
“I think I can. I’ve been watching you do it.” Taking the reins, he sat up straight and guided Molly down the highway.
After watching for a few minutes, Karen said, “That is goot. I think you’ve done this before.”
John smiled at her. “I think you’re right.”
“Perhaps you are ex-Amish.”
The moment the words left her mouth her heart sank like a stone. If John had taken the vows of their faith and then left the community, all would shun him. She would have to shun him.
He didn’t seem to notice her concern. “The sheriff did discuss that possibility.”
Dismissing the idea as unacceptable, she said, “You don’t speak or understand our language. Surely you could not forget the tongue you grew up with.”
He shrugged. “Who would think I could forget my own name? As far as I’m concerned anything is possible.”
Racking her mind for local families with members who’d strayed, she quickly came up with several. In their tight-knit community, she was sure she knew all the young men who’d left. The only one close to John’s age would have been Isaac Troyer’s son who left almost ten years ago. He looked nothing like John. The others she could think of who had left the community were much younger men and a few young women.
There were at least three families who had moved into the area recently. If they had members leave the faith before coming to this church district she didn’t know about them.
In less than a quarter of a mile, they reached the lane of another farm. John turned the horse onto the narrow road. Karen said, “When we get to the bishop’s house, you should stay in the buggy.”
“Why?”
“So that I may speak privately to Bishop Zook and ask if he can assist you.”
“And if he says no?” John’s tone carried a hint of annoyance.
“Bishop Zook is a wise and much-respected man. If you have his permission to speak to the members of our church it will open many doors that might otherwise be closed to you.”
John relented. “All right. I’ll follow your lead.”
“Goot.” She nodded her satisfaction.
Driving the buggy up to the front of the house, he drew the mare to a stop. Before Karen could step out, Joseph Zook walked out of the house toward her.
“Guder mariye, Karen,” he called cheerfully. “What brings you here today?”
“Good morning, Bishop. I have brought someone to meet you. This is John Doe, the man who was found unconscious beside our lane.”
Concern furrowed the minister’s brow. “I have heard the story. I am glad to see that you are recovered, Mr. Doe.”
“I’m not quite recovered, sir.” John touched the bandage on the side of his head. “I have no memory of my past. I’m hoping that you can help me.”
“I am sorry for your injury, but how can I help?”
“Do you recognize me? Have you ever seen me before?”
The bishop studied him intently then said, “Nee, I have not.”
Karen could feel John’s disappointment in the slump of his body beside her. She addressed the bishop. “John wishes to speak to members of our church to see if anyone knows him or knows something about him.”
The bishop studied Karen intently. He switched to Pennsylvania Dutch. “You must be careful, Karen. To become involved in this outsider business is not a good thing.”
She bowed her head slightly. “How can helping an injured man be a bad thing? I feel that this is what God wants me to do.”
“Be sure it is God’s will you are seeking, Karen, and not your own.”
“I will heed your advice, Bishop.”
The bishop turned his attention back to John and spoke in English. “You may speak to members of our church if they wish it also. I will pray that you find the answers you seek, young man.”
Karen watched the bishop walk away. She had been warned. Her support for John must be limited and above reproach. She reached for the reins but John ignored her outstretched hand, turning the horse easily in the yard and sending her down the lane.
Karen put the bishop’s warning behind her. “You have driven a buggy many times.”
“Maybe I’m just a fast learner.”
“Perhaps.” Her spirits sank lower. How many English knew how to drive a buggy? Not many. It seemed more likely that her earlier assumption was correct. John had been raised Plain.
If he had left the church before his baptism, he would be accepted by most of the Amish in her community. If, on the other hand, he had rejected the church after baptism he would be considered an outcast until he made a full confession before the congregation.
She glanced at him once more. How could a man confess his sins if he had no memory of them? He looked happy at the moment driving Molly along at a steady pace. The cold rain had stopped and the sun peeked out. Up ahead on the road, Henry Zook, the bishop’s youngest son, was traveling to market in his farm wagon. John slowed Molly to follow behind him. When the way was clear and free of traffic, he sent Molly high stepping around the wagon.
When the mare drew level with the other horses she suddenly picked up her pace eager to get in front of them.
“You’ve got some speed, Molly girl,” John called to the horse.
Instead of letting the mare keep her fast pace, he reined her in and grinned at Karen. “I’d love to let her go and see just how much she’s got.”
“Why don’t you?” she asked, hoping to hear the right answer.
He shook his head. “No, she has too many miles to haul us yet. It wouldn’t be kind to wear her out on a joyride.”
Looking straight ahead, Karen smiled inwardly. “Whatever you have done in your past life, you care about animals. You can add it to your list of things you have discovered about yourself.”
“Now if I can only locate a pencil sharpener,” he added drily.
“What?” She tipped her head to stare at him in confusion.
“Never mind. Where to next?”
“Up ahead is the farm of Elam Sutter. He and some of his family moved here from Pennsylvania almost two years ago. Elam is getting married next week.”
Twisting in the seat, she grasped his arm as excitement rippled though her mind. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. It makes perfect sense.”
“What makes perfect sense?”
“Perhaps you were coming for the wedding. Elam’s fiancée, Katie Lantz, lived out in the world for several years. She knows many English. That must be it.”
* * *
John tried not to get his hopes up but Karen’s excitement was contagious. He asked, “Why didn’t they report me as missing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they weren’t sure when you would arrive. Maybe your coming was a surprise for them.”
He wanted to believe her scenarios but he was growing used to disappointment. Still, his palms began to sweat. “We will see soon enough.”
As they rolled into the yard, John saw four other buggies lined up beside the barn. He drew Molly to stop in front of the house.
Karen withdrew a large box from the back of the buggy. John took it from her and followed her to the front door. He was surprised when she didn’t knock but went right in. The spacious kitchen was filled to overflowing with enticing smells of baking and the happy chatter of a half dozen women engaged in cleaning and polishing every surface in the house.
The oldest woman in the room came forward drying her hands on her white apron. With a bright smile on her face, she said, “Karen, how nice to see you.”
Karen said, “I’ve brought some of my mother’s best bowls and platters for you to use at the wedding, Nettie.”
“Wonderful. They will come in handy. I’ve forgotten how much work it takes to get ready for a wedding dinner.” Nettie indicated a place for John to set his burden.
Karen said, “I have come with another errand, Nettie. Everyone, this is John Doe, the man who was found injured on our farm.” Karen smiled encouragement at him.
The room grew quiet. John felt everyone’s eyes on him. He scanned their faces looking for any hint of recognition. He saw nothing but blank stares. Either they had no idea who he was, or they were very good actresses. Once again his hopes slipped away. Why didn’t someone know him? Why?
Looking over the group, Karen asked, “Where is Katie?”
Nettie said, “She is upstairs changing the baby.”
One of the other women stepped forward. “Are you a friend of Katie’s? I am Ruby, her future sister-in-law. This is my sister Mary, my sister-in-law Sally Yoder, and this is my mother, Nettie Sutter.”
John nodded to them. “I’m not sure if I know Katie. I sure hope she knows me. The injury to my head robbed me of my memory. Karen thinks I may have been coming to the wedding.”
Ruby and Mary exchanged puzzled glances. The two women were in their late twenties or early thirties. They were clearly related to Nettie. The women shared the same bright blue eyes, apple-red cheeks and blond hair although Nettie’s was streaked with silver. They all wore plain dresses with white caps and white aprons.
The teenager, Sally, had red hair and freckles, but she wasn’t smiling in welcome the way the others were. Her eyes held a frightened, guarded look. She said, “I will go get Katie.”
Spinning around, she opened a door and rushed up the stairs beyond.
He waited, not taking his eyes off the stairwell. After an eternity, he heard footsteps coming down. The woman who entered the kitchen was dressed in the same Amish fashion as the others, but her hair was black as coal. She came toward him with a perplexed expression in her dark eyes. He held his breath, not daring to hope.
Stopping in front of him, she said, “Emma Wadler mentioned that she had met you at the inn, Mr. Doe. I’m sorry I can’t be of any help. I don’t recognize you.”
He could barely swallow past the lump in his throat. A vicious headache, brought on by his frustration, sapped his strength. He managed to say, “I’m sorry we interrupted your afternoon. Thank you for your time.”
Nettie spoke up, “Would you like some tea? I have the kettle on.”
He shook his head, eager to escape before the pounding in his temple made him sick.
Katie said, “Elam is in his workshop. Perhaps he has met you before.”
After looking at John closely, Karen said, “Come with me. I will show you the way.”
He followed her outside into the fresh, cool air. Only then did he realize how hot the kitchen had been. Breathing deeply, he struggled to master the pain in his head.
“Take slow deep breaths,” Karen said, standing at his side.
“I’m okay. How did you know?” If he kept his eyes closed the pain wasn’t as bad.
“My mother used to get migraines. Do they happen to you often?” she asked gently.
“Two or three times since I woke up in the hospital.”
She led him toward a small bench set beneath the bare gnarled branches of an apple tree. “Sit here. I will fetch Elam.”
John was in no shape to argue. Leaning back against the rough bark of the tree, he let his mind go blank. Slowly, the pain receded.
“Hey, buddy, think fast.”
John’s eyes popped open as he threw up his hands to catch the apple being thrown at him. Only there was none. He was alone. He closed his eyes again and rebuilt the scene in his mind.
The tree overhead was lush with green leaves and heavy with fruit. Yellow apples. He was sitting on the cool grass with his back against the trunk of the tree. A hot breeze flowed over his skin, making him glad of the shade. Birds were singing nearby. An occasional raucous cry sounded from among them. He heard the drone of insects, then the pad of footsteps approaching.
Close by, a woman’s voice, low and sweet said, “Here is my geils-mann loafing under a tree.”
He tried to turn his head to see her face, but found himself staring at his boots, instead. The harder he tried to see her, the more rapidly the scene faded.
“John? John, this is Elam Sutter.”
Opening his eyes, John saw Karen standing in front of him. Blinking hard, he looked around. The tree branches were bare. The lawn was brown and curled in winter sleep. Behind Karen, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark coat and black Amish hat stood regarding him intently.
Sharp bitterness lanced through John at the loss of his brief summer memory. His identity had been so close he could almost touch it and now it was gone.
How often could his mind be torn in two this way without finally ripping into pieces?
CHAPTER SIX (#ua2947530-3874-5143-91c8-63ffb95308e1)
Disappointment drained John’s strength. The memory was gone. He couldn’t get it back, but Karen and her friend were still waiting for him to speak.
He forced himself to rise and extended his hand to Elam. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Sutter. I guess Karen has told you why I’m here.”
Elam’s grip was strong and firm. “She has. I do not know your face, John Doe. I wish I could be more help.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry we interrupted your work.”
The sound of the front door closing made them all look toward the house. Katie came out wrapping a black shawl around her shoulders. John happened to glance at Elam’s face. The soft smile and the glow in the Amishman’s eyes told John this was a love match. When Katie reached them, Elam slipped an arm around her waist to block the cold.
She said to John, “Are you sure you won’t come in for a while? We have hot apple pie and coffee if you’d like.”
“No, but thank you. Congratulations on your engagement.”
“Danki,” Katie blushed sweetly as she gazed at Elam with adoring eyes. John wondered if a woman had ever looked at him that way.
After bidding the couple farewell, John followed Karen to the buggy. He relinquished the reins to her, knowing his headache wouldn’t let him keep his mind on the road. They were getting ready to leave when Nettie came racing out of the house carrying a large basket covered with a checkered cloth.
Breathlessly, she reached them and handed the basket to Karen. “This is for you and your family. A couple of my peach pies because I know Eli likes them best. How is he doing?”
Karen accepted the basket. “He gets his cast off next week, but he must still wear a brace and sling. He is chaffing at the bit to get back to work.”
“Has feeling returned to his hand?”
“Some, but he has no strength in it.”
“The poor man. He’s coming to the wedding, isn’t he?” A faint crease of worry appeared between Nettie’s brows.
“He would not miss it,” Karen assured her.
Relief smoothed away Nettie’s frown. “That is goot. And you, Mr. Doe, you are welcome to come to the wedding dinner. There will be plenty of food and there will be other English there, too,” she added with a bright smile.
“Thank you. That is very kind.” He tried to be noncommittal. Attending the wedding of someone he barely knew seemed presumptuous.
Nettie fixed her gaze on Karen. “Tell your father…tell him I think about him often. When this wedding fuss is over you must all come for Sunday dinner.”
“We will look forward to it.”
John closed his eyes and rubbed his brow as Karen drove Molly back to the highway. The jolting and creaking of the buggy added nausea to his discomfort.
Karen pulled Molly to a halt when they reached the end of the Sutters’ lane. “Do you still wish to go into Hope Springs?”
What he wanted was to lie down somewhere dark and quiet and let his mind travel back to that green, hot place and stay there until he saw the face of the woman who had been with him. As much as he wanted to do that, he knew he couldn’t stop now. “Let’s keep going. I want to see as many people as I can today.”
* * *
Karen studied John with deep concern. His color was pale, his eyes sunken with pain. He looked as if he might topple out of the buggy at any second. He kept one hand pressed to his forehead in an attempt to block the light from his eyes.
When she didn’t start Molly moving, he glanced at her. “What’s wrong? I said let’s go into town.”
She let out a sigh. “Nee, we are going home. You have done too much today. You are in pain and you need rest.”
He sat up straight to hide his weakness. “I’m fine. It’s just a headache.”
“Men! Always trying to show how tough they are. Anyone with eyes in their head can see you are done in. We will go home now and that is the end of it. Tomorrow will be here soon enough.”
“I’ll be okay,” he insisted.
“Ja. When you have had a rest I’m sure you will be fine.” Clicking her tongue, she urged Molly onto the highway and sent her trotting briskly toward their farm.
“Are you always this domineering?”
He had no idea how tough she could be, but he just might find out. “When I must tell a child what to do, ja, I am.”
“Now you’re saying I’m acting like a child?”
“A stubborn, willful child.”
“I’m going to let that slide. I can see arguing with you is fruitless. When did you take over the job of raising your brothers and sister?”
“I am the eldest daughter. It is expected of me to care for the younger ones. My mother was killed four years ago if that is what you are asking?”
“You do a good job with them.”
“They are goot children. They make the job easy.”
“Even Jacob?”
“Jacob is in a hurry to be the man of the house. He wants to take over for our father until Papa is well.”
“But you don’t want him to do that.”
She hadn’t realized her fear was that transparent. “Being a farrier is a hard job. It takes strength. A man must know how to read a horse. Some of the draft horses my father works on weigh nearly a ton. A man can shoe a horse nine times without trouble and on the tenth time that horse decides he wants to kill the farrier.”
“I didn’t say you were wrong to worry.”
Her annoyance slipped away. “I’m sorry. It’s just that he is so young yet. He idolized Seth, our brother who was killed. Seth was big and strong like Papa, not slender like Jacob. Seth had the touch when it came to horses. Mamm used to say he could whisper to them and they did just as he wished. Jacob wants to be a horseman like Seth was but he is impatient.”
John sat back and stared into space. “A horseman. He wants to be a horseman, a geils-mann. Here is my geils-mann loafing under a tree.”
Karen eyed him with concern. “What are you talking about?”
He focused on her face. “I had another memory flash. It was summer, and I was sitting under an apple tree. There was a woman behind me. She said, ‘Here is my geilsmann loafing under a tree.’ I heard the words clear as day.”
“Who was she?” Karen asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see her face.”
“How did you know what the word meant?” she asked in surprise.
“I’m not sure. I just know.”
As the ramifications of his comment sank in, Karen’s heart sank, too. Geils-mann was an Amish expression. Only someone raised speaking Pennsylvania Dutch would use the word. If John had not been raised Amish then the woman he spoke of surely had been. Karen glanced at John. Who was John Doe and who was this woman to him?
* * *
Several days later, John was outside early in the morning gathering a load of wood for his stove when he saw Nick Bradley drive into the yard. John’s heart jumped into overdrive. Maybe the sheriff’s investigation had turned up something new. He waited with bated breath as Nick climbed out of his SUV.
Touching the brim of his hat, Nick said, “Morning. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d check and see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine. Have you learned anything new?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
John’s anticipation drained away. He carried the logs to the box beside his front door and dropped them. He’d have to learn not to get his hopes up. Somehow.
Nick said, “I was hoping you might have found out something. Not that I want you to make me look bad.”
“No worries. I’m still a walking blank. I’ve had a few flashes of memory, but nothing concrete.”
“Are you writing them down?”
John paused and looked at the sheriff. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You should. Even the smallest thing you recall might help me. How’s the head?” He pointed to John’s bandage.
“Better.”
“My cousin Amber wanted me to remind you that you need to come in to Dr. White’s office and get your stitches out.”
He rubbed gingerly at his dressing. The sutures had started to itch. “I know I was supposed to go in a few days ago, but I’ve had other things on my mind.”
“I’ve got time to run you into Hope Springs this morning. Shall I see if they can work you in? I’m free for a while unless I get a call.”
“That would be great, but how do I get back if you’ve got to leave?” A light dusting of snow covered the ground this morning and occasional flakes drifted down from the gray sky. John didn’t want to walk five miles back to the farm in this weather.
“We have a couple of folks in town that provide taxi services to the Amish. Amber can arrange a ride if you need it.” Nick made the phone call.
After a brief conversation, he closed the phone. “All set. They can see you in half an hour.”
“Let me tell Miss Imhoff where I’m going. She likes to keep a tight leash on me.”
Nick chuckled. “I’ve heard she can be a tough cookie.”
The two men walked toward the main house. Nick asked, “How’s it working out? You staying here.”
“It’s fine. The boy, Jacob, isn’t thrilled, but Noah and Anna don’t seem to mind. Eli is taking a wait-and-see attitude.”
“And Karen?”
John glanced toward the house. “She’s been very kind.”
Before they reached the steps, Eli came out to greet them. His stoic face showed nothing of what he was thinking. He nodded to the sheriff. “Goot day to you.”
“The same to you, Eli. I’m going to take John into town so Doc White can check him out. I’ll see that he gets back, too. How is your arm?”
Flexing his fingers in the sling, Eli said, “It is healing.”
Jacob came out of the house followed by Anna and Noah. The children hung back at the sight of the sheriff.
Nick glanced from Eli to Jacob. “I had a complaint about some Amish boys racing buggies over on Sky Road yesterday. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Nee. We do not,” Eli stated firmly. John caught the furtive glance Jacob shot in the sheriff’s direction before looking down.
Nick nodded. “It’s dangerous business racing on a public road. Gina Curtis had to put her car in the ditch to avoid hitting someone. It did a fair amount of damage to her front end. None of the buggy drivers stuck around. She wasn’t hurt but she could have been.”
Eli glanced at his son. “Do you know anything about this?”
“No, Papa.” Jacob glared at the sheriff. If he did know something, he wasn’t talking. Noah remained uncharacteristically quiet.
Eli said, “Go on to school now, children.”
The kids rushed down the steps with their lunch pails in hand and headed toward the school two miles away. Several times they threw looks over their shoulders. John had the distinct feeling they did know something.
After bidding Mr. Imhoff goodbye, John climbed in the sheriff’s SUV. When Nick got in and started the truck, John said, “You think Jacob was involved, don’t you?”
Nick turned the vehicle around and drove out the lane. They passed the children walking. Only Anna waved.
Nick said, “Gina’s description could fit ten boys in this area. I didn’t expect to get a confession. Illicit buggy racing goes on amongst Amish teenagers the same way drag racing goes on among the English kids. A lot of Amish parents turn a blind eye to that kind of behavior during the rumspringa.”
“What’s that?”
“It means running-around years. Amish teens are free to experiment with things that won’t be allowed once they join the church. You’ll see their buggies out-fitted with boom boxes, they’ll have cell phones and they’ll dress like regular kids when they are away from the farm. Jacob is young for that type of behavior. Rumspringa normally starts when the kids are about sixteen, but his dad has some fine horses.”
“Yes, he does.”
The sheriff looked at him sharply. “Do you know something about horses?”
“I know which end is which. I seem to know what a good Standardbred looks like. I found out I can drive a buggy and Eli’s two-wheeled cart without a problem. He’s been letting me use the cart to visit farms around here. The one thing I did remember was a woman’s voice. She called me her geils-mann.”
“She called you her horseman? That’s interesting. Maybe we ruled out your being ex-Amish too soon. It’s good to hear things are coming back to you.”
John had been wondering about the young woman ever since his vision. Was she his sister, a friend, his wife? He had no way of knowing.
He turned to stare out the window. “Not enough things are coming back to me.”
* * *
Karen didn’t want to reveal to her father her burning curiosity about the sheriff’s visit. Instead, when he came inside, she served him another cup of coffee before casually asking, “Where is the sheriff taking John?”
“To see the doctor in town.”
“Oh.” Relief made her knees weak. He wasn’t taking him away to his old life. She sat down quickly. Even though that was what she prayed for, losing him, even for the right reason, wasn’t something she wanted to face. Not yet.
Eli watched her closely. “You have taken a great liking to John Doe.”
Apparently her feelings weren’t as well hidden as she had hoped. She toyed with the corner of her apron. “He is so lost. I wish to help him. That is all.”
Her father covered her hands with his own. “Take care, daughter. He is not one of us.”
“He is one of God’s children.”
“Do not seek to divert me. You know exactly what I mean. Our faith makes no exceptions for those who stray outside the Ordnung.”
“I have done nothing against the rules of the church. John will only be here a few more days.” She forced herself to smile in reassurance, but her father was not fooled.
“I should have encouraged you to marry long ago, but I was so befuddled without your mother. It was selfish of me.”
“Papa, I am happy caring for the little ones and keeping your house. I could not ask for more.”
Sadness filled his eyes. “I would ask for more in your life. A woman should have a husband to love and shelter her. The risk of temptation would not be so great.”
Karen looked down at her hands. “I am not tempted by John Doe.”
“Do not forget that I am a man like all other men. I see the way he looks at you. I see the way you try not to look back at him.”
She pulled her hands away from his. “I care about him. I don’t deny that. When I saw him lying on the ground bleeding and wounded, I saw Seth. I could not save my brother. He died in my arms. I know his death was the will of God. Just as I know John lived by the will of God alone.”
“We do not know why God brings sadness or joy into our lives. We only know all comes from His purpose for us.” Eli leaned back in his chair and took a sip of coffee.
“I know that, Papa. But why has God taken away John’s memory? I believe it is because God wants to show John something he could not see before.”
Eli grasped her hand again. “Karen, Karen, you cannot know this. You cannot presume to know Gotte wille.”
She looked into his eyes so full of concern. “I’m sorry, Papa. I did not mean to upset you. Please trust me when I say you have nothing to worry about.”
Leaning forward, she said earnestly, “My heart is here, with you, and with the children. Nothing could make me throw that away.”
He relaxed and nodded slightly. “You have always been a goot daughter and strong in your faith. You see something in the Englischer that I do not see. You may be right. God sent John Doe into our midst for a reason. I will keep an open mind about this man.”
* * *
John entered the Hope Springs Medical Clinic, a modern one-story blond brick building, with a niggling sense of dread. He’d had enough of hospitals and doctors without getting any answers in return. Inside, he checked in with the elderly receptionist and took a seat in the waiting room. He didn’t have to wait long.
A young woman in a white lab coat and blue scrubs called his name. He followed her down a short hallway and took a seat on the exam-room table.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Doe. I’m Amber Bradley, Nick Bradley’s cousin.” She stuck a thermometer under John’s tongue.
She removed it when it beeped and John said, “You’re the one I need to thank for the financial help.”
Wrapping a blood-pressure cuff around his arm, she said, “You’re welcome, but it wasn’t just me. A lot of people wanted to help.”
John remained quiet until she had finished with his blood pressure. When she took the stethoscope out of her ears, he said, “I wasn’t aware that I required a midwife.”
She chuckled. “I am a woman with many hats. One of those being an office nurse.”
The door opened and a tall, distinguished man with silver hair came in leaning heavily on a cane. “Yes, and she is proof that good help is hard to come by these days.”
“Ha!” she retorted. “You just try running this office without me, Harold.”
“No doubt I’ll have to when you marry what’s-his-name,” he grumbled.
“Is that any way to talk about your grandson? Don’t worry, Mr. Doe, Dr. White’s bark is worse than his bite.” She checked John’s ears, his eyes and then his throat.
Dr. White, who had been reading John’s chart, said, “You are a very interesting case, Mr. Doe.”
“So I’ve been told.” John tried not to let his bitterness show. He hated being an oddity, the freak with a damaged mind.
“I imagine you’re tired of hearing that.” The doctor washed his hands and pulled on a pair of latex gloves.
“Good guess.”
Harold began removing the bandage from John’s head. “We medical people live for cases like yours. The odd thing, the unusual diagnoses. It’s like catnip to us. We want to define it, study it, understand it, cure it.”
John winced as the tape pulled his hair. “I’m in favor of a cure. Tell me which pill to take.”
“Amnesia following a trauma isn’t unusual, but normally it involves losing a short period of time just prior to the injury. A prolonged and complete amnesia such as you have is exceedingly rare.”
“Lucky me.” This time John didn’t disguise his sarcasm.
“Your scalp is healed nicely. How are your ribs?”
“Not bad if I take it slow.”
“Good. I’m going to have Amber take out the stitches. Any headaches?”
“Sometimes.”
“Bad ones?”
“They can be. I think they’re getting better. Maybe I’m just getting used to them.”
“Is there any particular thing that triggers them?” The doctor pulled off his gloves and picked up John’s chart.
“I get these flashes, like images from a movie. I think they are memories, but I can’t be sure. When that happens the pain gets intense.”
“You say you think they’re memories. Anything specific?”
John felt stupid sharing the few instances that he’d had. “Frying trout. A woman laughing. A sick or starving horse. A woman using an Amish word. Nothing with any context of time or place.”
“The same woman?” Amber asked.
“I’m not sure. I don’t see her face.”
“Are these flashes becoming more frequent?” The doctor made a note on the chart.
John held still as Amber began removing his stitches. “Not that I can tell. Some days I’ll have one or two, some days I won’t have any.”
He winced but didn’t yelp as she worked on one stubborn stitch. Finally, she said, “All done. You’ll just need to keep it clean and dry, but otherwise you’re good to go. I understand you’re staying at Eli Imhoff’s place.”
“Yes. That’s where I was found. I’ve been interviewing the Amish in the area for the past several days hoping to find someone who recognizes me. I mean, I must have been in the area for a reason.”
Closing the chart, Dr. White asked, “You’ve been going door-to-door?”
“I started with the farms closest to where I was found but I’m not having much luck. Don’t get me wrong. The Amish have been forthcoming, maybe because I’ve had Karen Imhoff with me, but no one knows anything.”
Amber and Dr. White exchanged glances. Amber said, “There might be an easier way to meet people than going to every house in the area.”
John looked at her with interest. “How?”
Dr. White said, “November is the month for Amish weddings. Sometimes as many as four hundred people show up for them. Elam Sutter’s wedding is this coming Thursday.”
“Nettie Sutter did invite me to the supper.”
“Great,” Amber said, looking at Harold. “Phillip and I will be there, too.”
“Oh, and I’m chopped liver now?” Harold asked, a teasing edge in his tone.
Amber smiled at John. “Dr. Harold White will also be attending the event, and he knows every soul in this county.”
Harold met John’s gaze and said, “Chances are almost everyone there will have already heard your story.”
“How?” John asked. “They don’t have radio or TV.”
Amber laughed. “You would be surprised how fast news travels in a small community like this.”
Harold rubbed his chin. “I’m sure the Imhoff family will be going for the entire day. Why don’t you ride along with me, young man? I’ll introduce you around and see if we can come up with someone who knows you.”
John realized it could be his best chance to meet many of the reclusive Amish in the area. He inclined his head. “Sir, I would be delighted to accompany you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ua2947530-3874-5143-91c8-63ffb95308e1)
True to his word, Nick stuck around to give John a lift from the clinic back to the farm. As the sheriff drove away, John stood in the yard staring at the farmhouse. Once again he was struck by how tidy the farmstead was. The fences were all in good repair, the barn and outbuildings had been recently painted. Everything spoke of order and neatness. Eli Imhoff was a good steward of his land.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, John wondered what kind of steward he was. Did he have lands and a home to care for? Or did he live in an apartment in a crowded city? If he could wish for a home—it would be one like this.
Instead of going into the grandfather house, John made his way to the barn and to the stalls where the horses stood dozing or munching grain. He was surprised by how comfortable he felt among them. Sometime in his life he must’ve worked on a ranch or farm. If only he could remember where or when.
He was petting the nose of the big draft horse when he heard a door open. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Karen coming from another part of the barn. In her hands she carried a pail brimming full of apples.
Her face brightened when she caught sight of him. “You are back. What did the doctor say?”
John moved to take the pail from her. “He said I’m doing good. Except for not remembering anything, of course.”
“You will remember when God wills it.”
“I wish He’d hurry up, I’m tired of living in the dark.”
“I know it is a terrible burden for you.”
“You must be tired of hearing me complain. What are the apples for?”
“I’m putting up applesauce.”
“Need some help?”
She slanted a grin at him. “Can you pare an apple?”
Giving an exaggerated shrug, he said, “Only one way to find out.”
Inside the house, John sat at the kitchen table and quickly discovered he could use a paring knife. As he cored and chopped the contents of the bucket into a large bowl he had a chance to observe Karen at work.
Every move she made was efficient. She seemed to know exactly what she needed to do when she needed to do it. The canning jars were washed and placed in a large kettle and boiled. Setting them aside after ten minutes, she put his chopped apples into a second kettle. Before long the mouthwatering aroma of cooking apples and cinnamon filled the air.
“I hope you’re not going to can all of it,” he said as he started cutting the last pile of apples. His stomach rumbled loudly.
She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. The steam had given her face a rosy glow. “I am saving plenty for supper.”
He tipped his head. “I think I should have a taste now in case the apples were bad. You don’t want to give bad applesauce to your family.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “Of all the pieces you sampled while you were chopping, how many were sour?”
“Okay, I’m busted. I missed lunch, you know. Do you have eyes in the back of your head under that bonnet thing?”
“I don’t need eyes in the back of my head. I brought in enough apples to make eight pints. I can see I’m only going to have enough to fill seven jars.”
“If I promise to go get more fruit can I have a dish of those apples before you squish them?”
Karen laughed and pulled a brown ceramic bowl from the cupboard. “Ja, but you had better not complain if it spoils your supper.”
As she heaped the bowl full of stewed apples, John quickly carved an apple skin into the shape of huge red lips and stuck it between his teeth. When Karen turned around and saw him she doubled over with laughter, nearly spilling his snack on the floor. For the first time in his new life John felt totally happy.
Later that evening, when everyone was finishing their meal, he caught Karen’s eye, wiggled his brows and held up his empty plate with a wide grin. She smothered an abrupt giggle, causing her family members to stare at her. Rising quickly, she began to clear the table.
John said, “Let me help you.”
Anna, also in the process of gathering up plates, gave him a funny look. “This is woman’s work.” She looked at her father for confirmation. “Isn’t it, Papa?”
Eli glanced at Karen and then at his boys. “A man must know how to do a woman’s work if his wife needs help just as a woman must know how to do a man’s work if her husband needs help.”
Noah eyed the dirty dishes in disgust. “But you don’t need help tonight, do you Karen?”
“Nee, Anna and I can manage, but thank you for your offer.”
John slipped his hands in the front pockets of his jeans wishing he could spend more time with Karen but knowing it wasn’t wise.
Noah said, “Come and play checkers with me, John.”
Relieved, John followed the boy into the living room where Noah quickly set up the board. Eli settled himself in his favorite chair, opened his Bible and began reading. Jacob pretended interest in a book of his own, but his eyes were drawn repeatedly to the game.
Karen and Anna joined the men when they were done in the kitchen. Karen pulled a basket of mending from the cupboard in the corner, sat down beside her father and began to thread a needle. It seemed to John that she was never idle. Anna brought out a small, faceless doll to play with.
John’s gaze was drawn repeatedly to where Karen sat. The lamplight gave a soft glow to her face. A gentle smile curved her lips. The white bonnet on her hair reminded him of a halo.
She was so beautiful it hurt his eyes, and he had no business admiring her.
“Your move,” Noah said.
John realized he’d been staring and focused his attention on his play.
Anna came to John’s elbow. “Do you want to hear the poem I’m going to recite for the school Christmas program?”
Noah shook his head. “Not again. We’ve heard it a million times.”
“Noah, she needs the practice,” Karen chided gently.
John said, “I haven’t heard it. Miss Anna, I would love to hear your poem.”
Flashing him a bright smile, she folded her hands and stared at a spot over his head. “Auf einer Nacht so ehrlich in einem Land weit entfernt.”
Jacob snickered. “He doesn’t understand German, Anna.”
She propped her hands on her hips. “David Yoder is repeating it in English at the program so everyone will know what it means.”
John sought to soothe her. “You say it just as you will at your program. When you’re done, you can interpret it for me.”
Her smile returned. “The first line means on a night so fair in a land far away.”
“Got it. Let me hear the whole thing. I’m sure Noah will tell me if you mess up.”
Noah chuckled. “You know that’s right.”
Anna began again. As she spoke, John caught Karen’s eye. The look she gave him conveyed her approval. A warm feeling of happiness settled over him. He smiled back at her.
Eli cleared his throat. John caught the stern look he shot his daughter. Karen quickly returned to her sewing. John gave his attention back to the checkerboard.
After Anna finished her poem she went back to playing with her doll. When Noah lost his third match in a row to John, he dropped his head onto his forearms. “Jacob always wins, too.”
John ruffled the boy’s hair. “You almost had me on that last one.”
Eli closed his Bible. “Do you play chess, Mr. Doe?”
Did he? John tried to see the pieces and the moves in his mind. He nodded. “I think so.”
“Jacob has a talent for the game. Why don’t you two play?”
“I’m willing.” John looked at the boy. Indecision flashed across Jacob’s face.
Not wanting to push the kid, John began clearing the checkers from the board. He hummed a tune softly as he stacked them inside the box. When the board was clear, he looked at Jacob. The boy’s face had gone pale. He snapped his book shut. “I’m going to bed.”
John watched Jacob rush out of the room and wondered what he had done to upset the youngster. He looked at Karen. She just shrugged her shoulders.
Folding up the chessboard, John handed it to Noah. Rising to his feet, he said, “I think I’ll turn in, too.”
Laying her mending aside, Karen said, “I will get you a lamp. It is dark out.”
In the kitchen, she pulled a kerosene lamp from a cabinet. Setting it on the counter, she lifted the glass chimney and lit the wick.
John took it from her hand. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset your family. Maybe my staying here wasn’t a good idea.”
“It is only for a couple more days. We can manage.”
Gazing into her luminous eyes, John found himself wishing he could stay longer. The thought was foolish and he knew it.
Once he found out about his past, then maybe he could start thinking about a future. Until then he would be crazy to get attached to anyone, especially the lovely Amish woman standing before him.
* * *
The beautiful autumn morning of the wedding dawned cold but clear. After making sure everyone in the family was dressed in their Sunday best Karen ushered them out to the waiting buggy. Jacob had gone ahead with the bench wagon. The special enclosed wagon held the several dozen narrow wooden benches that their church district used for Sunday services.
Karen glanced toward the dawdy haus and saw John watching them from the porch. For the past several days he’d been making himself at home on the farm, helping her father with the horses and her with chores. Having him across from her at the supper table had become the high point of her evenings. But he would be moving to the inn tomorrow. His time with her family was almost up. There wouldn’t be any more afternoons spent laughing over a pail of apples.
He lifted a hand in a brief wave. Karen glanced at her father and saw he was watching her. She didn’t wave back but climbed in the buggy instead.
The trip into town was accomplished in short order. The wedding ceremony itself was to take place at the home of Naomi and Emma Wadler, both friends of the bride. When Karen and her family entered the house the bridal party was already sitting in the front row of the wooden benches.
Katie wore a new plain dress of light blue. Elam looked quite handsome in his dark coat and not the least bit nervous. Near them sat two each of Elam’s sisters and brothers-in-law, their wedding attendants.
Nettie, the groom’s mother, wouldn’t be at the ceremony. She would be at home getting ready for the dinner. Karen and several other women would leave, once the vows were exchanged, to act as servers for the several hundred people expected to arrive that afternoon.
At exactly nine o’clock the singing began. Bishop Zook and the two ministers escorted the bride and groom to a separate room. While they were given instructions on the duties of marriage in the Council room, the congregation sang the wedding hymns.
When the bridal couple returned, the bishop began his sermon. He spoke with simple eloquence about the marriages in the Old Testament. He spoke about Adam and Eve and proceeded to the Great Flood and the virtuousness of Noah’s household. He recounted the story of Isaac and Rebekah and talked about the way God works through events to bring marriage partners together.
Bishop Zook looked at the couple and said, “God had a plan for you. You found each other because you were willing to submit to His will and to His choice.”
His words brought tears to Karen’s eyes. She knew the struggles Katie had endured in her life away from the Amish. It was through those circumstances that God led her and her baby daughter back to the faith and into the life of Elam Sutter.
Karen couldn’t help wondering how God was using John in her life. What plan did He have for each of them? Whatever it was, it could not be marriage.
It was nearly noon before the lengthy sermon was concluded and the bishop asked Katie and Elam to step forward. They clasped hands with gentle smiles at each other. The bishop placed his hand over theirs. He pronounced a blessing upon them and asked, “Are you willing to enter together into wedlock as God in the beginning ordained and commanded?”
“Yes,” they both answered in firm, solemn voices.
As he asked each of them if they were confident God had chosen the person beside them to be their husband or wife, Karen’s thoughts turned again to John.
Had he made a similar vow? Had he pledged to cherish and care for a woman as a Christian husband until the Lord separated them by death? Was there someone waiting and praying to see him again?
Was there a woman whose heart skipped a beat at the sight of his smile the way hers did?
* * *
John was happy for the company of the gruff doctor when they arrived at the Sutter farm. Buggies filled every free space between the house and barn and extended down the lane. The corral overflowed with horses munching hay as they waited patiently to take families home. Everywhere, groups of women in long dresses and men in dark suits with black hats stood talking in animated conversations or were working together.
One group of adults was busy washing dishes in large red plastic tubs as a trio of young women carried out trays of dirty plates and hurried back inside with the clean ones.
The doctor had been right. There had to be over two hundred people John could speak with. He worked to temper his expectations. He’d been disappointed too many times already.
When Dr. White got out of the car the men and women standing nearby greeted him cheerfully. One, a small gnomelike man with a long white beard said, “The goot doktor is here. If you want free advice, step right up.”
Harold clapped a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Good to see you, too, Reuben Beachy. Tell me, why did they invite an old rascal like you to this wedding?”
Reuben chuckled. “Who better to invite than a harness maker when you are getting hitched for life?”
Everyone laughed at his joke including Dr. White. Harold raised one hand and said to the group, “I will have time to hear what ails you and repeat all the gossip, but I must see the bride and groom and eat before the food is gone.”
They all chuckled as Harold led the way to the house. As John entered the Sutter home, he was stunned by the transformation that had taken place inside. Wall partitions had been removed to open up all the downstairs rooms. The kitchen itself was a crush of women working.
From the front door he could see trestle tables had been lined along the kitchen walls, around three sides of the living room and even into an adjoining bedroom.
The bride and groom sat in one corner of the living room in view of everyone. Katie sat at Elam’s left hand. Young women filled the tables around the couple and sat with their backs to the walls while the young men sat on the opposite side of the table facing the girls.
The tables didn’t contain flowers. Rather, stalks of celery had been placed in glass jars as decoration. Candy dishes, beautiful cakes and large bowls of fruit completed the simple but festive array. John searched for Karen in the rooms but didn’t see her anywhere.
Doctor White glanced at John. “Shall we start by asking the women in the kitchen if they know you?”
John’s eyes were drawn to the bride and groom and the loving looks they exchanged as they visited with their friends.
He nodded toward them. “No. This is their day. I don’t want to take anything away from them. We can speak to people outside after the meal is done.”
The doctor gave John a smile of approval. “All right.”
A strapping Amish man with a clean-shaven face approached them. He introduced himself as Adam Troyer and asked them to follow him. He seated them at one of the bedroom tables where Amber and a tall, handsome man already faced each other.
The man with Amber rose and held out his hand. His resemblance to Harold was unmistakable. He said, “You must be John. I’m Dr. Phillip White and this old rascal is my grandfather.” He clapped Harold on the shoulder.
“Who you calling old?” Harold grumbled.
“Behave,” Amber warned them both with a hard look.
The men grinned at each other, but took their seats. Amber and Phillip already had their food. John and Harold didn’t have to wait long. In another minute, a petite woman came in with a plate loaded with roast chicken and duck, mashed potatoes, dressing and creamed celery. She set the dish in front of Harold. John recognized her as the woman who ran the inn. She set down a second plate loaded with cookies and slices of cake.
Harold said, “Thank you, Emma. I hear the wedding was held in your home.”
“Ja, Katie has no family here so we are her family now.” She smiled at John. “Your plate is coming.”
“I have it here.”
John looked over his shoulder to see Karen bearing a pair of plates for him. When she set them down, his eyes grew round. “You don’t expect me to eat all that, do you?”
“I do, and you will have more later. No one leaves an Amish wedding hungry.”
He pushed the dessert plate toward her. “At least help me with this.”
She patted her slender waist. “I ate before the wedding party arrived so that I could help serve today. I must get back to work. More guests will begin arriving shortly.”
Emma said, “Why don’t you take a short break? Ruby and I can handle serving for a little while. I’m sure Mr.Doe has questions about our customs. I will bring you a cup of tea.”
Karen grinned. “Then I will happily cover for your break when I am done here. You may tell Adam Troyer I won’t be long. I’m sure he is ready for a break, too.”
Emma’s flushed cheeks turned an even brighter red. She left the table without another word.
“So that’s the way the wind is blowing,” Harold said with a chuckle. “I wondered why Adam was always at the inn. I thought surely there couldn’t be that much work for a handyman to do around the place.”
Emma returned with a cup of hot tea for Karen but didn’t linger. Karen took a sip, then filched a cookie from John’s plate. John leaned toward her. “Should I go wish the bride and groom happy before I eat?”
Karen shook her head. “No congratulations are given at an Amish wedding. It is taken for granted that Elam and Katie have found the partner chosen by God for them. We have no divorce so marriage is forever. Today is a happy but serious day.”
In the living room, a young man with curly brown hair rose to his feet and spoke in Pennsylvania Dutch.
Dr. White said, “The first round of eating is almost over. It’s time for the singing to start.”
John sent Karen an inquisitive glance. “The first round of eating?”
“Ja, we will start the wedding supper in an hour or so. Many of the older guests will leave soon, but the young people will stay. There will be much visiting and even games out in the barn.”
Around the tables, guests were bringing out their songbooks. The curly-headed young man, in a beautiful voice, started the hymn, and soon all joined in except the bride and groom. There was no accompanying music, just a moving blend of dozens of voices.
Karen asked, “Do you recognize the melody or the words?”
Was that worry he saw in her eyes? Why would she be concerned if he knew the song? He shook his head. “No, it’s not familiar.”
She seemed to relax. At least she gave him a half smile before joining in the hymn. Her sweet alto was pleasing to his ear. Once again he felt a deep pull of attraction toward Karen, something he couldn’t put his finger on but something he wanted to hold on to. Each day he spent with her those feelings deepened.
He counted her among his very few friends. He wasn’t sure she would appreciate how often he thought of her not as a friend but as a woman.
When the first song was done, a young woman stood to announce a second song. She then led the congregation. Her voice, pure and light as sunshine, flowed around the room. He listened more closely. There was something deeply familiar in her voice. Had he heard her before?
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ua2947530-3874-5143-91c8-63ffb95308e1)
When the song ended, John touched Karen’s arm and gestured toward the singer. “Who is that woman?”
“That is Sarah Wyse, why?”
“She has a beautiful voice. Could I have heard her before?”
“Where?”
“I have no idea. Does she live near you?”
“Not far. She lives just at the edge of Hope Springs. Her husband ran a harness shop. He passed away three years ago from cancer. She works in the fabric store now.”
“It’s strange. I just think I’ve heard her voice before.” “I will see if she will talk to you when the singing is done.” Karen stayed for one more hymn and then returned to her duties serving the guests.
When John had eaten his fill, he excused himself from the table and walked outside. Uncertain of how to introduce himself to the Amish and uncomfortable at being an outsider at a wedding feast, he stood alone on the porch gathering his courage. The door opened and Nettie bustled out with a large pan full of dishes.
Catching sight of him, she stopped and settled her load on one hip. “Have you had enough to eat, Mr. Doe?”
“More than enough. Thank you. Why are you working? Shouldn’t you be inside enjoying your son’s wedding day?”
“The parents of the bride and groom receive no special treatment on this day. It is my job to supervise the kitchen and make sure everything runs smoothly. That is my gift to my son and my new daughter. And you, Mr. Doe, you wish to speak to some of our guests, do you not?”
“I thought I did but I didn’t realize I would feel so awkward about it.”
She looked over to the men gathered near the barn. “Do not feel awkward. Let me get someone to take you around and introduce you.”
Waving her hand toward them, she called to Eli Imhoff. “Eli, come here.”
He crossed the yard with quick steps. “What do you need, Nettie?”
John couldn’t help but notice the soft look that passed between them or how the color bloomed in Nettie’s cheeks. She said, “John wishes to be introduced to some of our guests. I have not the time. Can you escort him for me?”
Eli nodded. “It was my intention to do so.”
As Nettie carried her pan to the washing tubs, Eli followed her with his eyes. John said, “She has been very kind.”
“Ja, she is a goot woman.”
The door to the house opened. Several Amish couples came out followed by Harold. The elderly doctor pulled a roll of antacid tablets from his pocket. “I knew I was going to need these. The food is always so good but so rich.”
He offered some to John and Eli. John declined but Eli accepted them. Dr. White said, “How is the arm, Eli?”
“Old bones heal slow.”
“Tell me about it.” Harold rubbed his thigh.
Eli jerked his head toward the barn. “Let us see if any one recognizes John Doe.”
Harold said, “Amber and Karen are asking around inside. I thought the women would be more comfortable talking to them.”
John followed the men through the maze of buggies to the barn. Inside, youngsters were engaged in games and chatting in groups. He caught sight of Jacob and several of his friends looking down from the hayloft. He was surprised to see the young men were much older than Jacob. The boy’s friends were staring at John with outright curiosity and snickering.
Eli asked for everyone’s attention, speaking English out of deference to John and Harold. He briefly explained John’s situation and asked if anyone knew him or had seen him before. John scanned the faces of the young men and women looking for signs of recognition. The only one he knew was the freckle-faced redheaded young woman he’d met several days before.
Sally, that was her name. He smiled and nodded to her. Her eyes widened. She spoke to her friends and then hurried past him back toward the house.
He followed Eli and Harold from group to group speaking to elderly couples, young parents with children and teenagers that had paired off and were enjoying the social event. Each time he met with expressions of compassion but no concrete information.
Giving up for the moment, John excused himself from the older man and returned to the house. Something in Sally’s expression stayed with him. He wanted a chance to talk to her in private but didn’t know how that would be possible. He was about to open the door when Karen came out with Sarah Wyse, the singer, by her side.
* * *
Karen stopped in surprise when she saw John in front of her. “We were just coming to find you. John, this is Sarah Wyse.”
The way his eyes roved over Sarah’s face sent a prickle of envy through Karen. Immediately, she chided herself for allowing such emotion to taint the day. Sarah was pretty. The young men had flocked around her when she and Karen had been in school together, but none of that had gone to Sarah’s head. She remained a devout member of the church in spite of all the heartache in her life.
John said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wyse. I wanted to compliment you on your beautiful singing voice.”
Sarah glanced from Karen back to John. “Compliments are not needed. All gifts come from God. We do not seek honors or to stand apart from each other.”
“I’m sorry,” John said, “I did not mean to offend you.”
“No offense was taken. Karen says you have some questions for me.”
The three of them moved to the end of the porch so they weren’t blocking the flow of traffic in and out of the house. John said, “I don’t know how to say this, but your voice sounds familiar to me. Is there any way I could have heard you singing before?”
“Not unless you have heard me as one of many voices praising God in song during our church services.”
He heaved a tired sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“I wish I could be more help. I will inquire about you when people come to my shop. We have townspeople, Amish and tourists in.”
John said, “I’ll ask the sheriff to send over one of the photographs he had taken of me.”
The women exchanged glances, then Karen said, “Sarah would not be able to show it. We consider photographs of people to be graven images. They are forbidden.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He looked embarrassed.
Karen couldn’t help herself. She poked his shoulder. “Oh, John, you don’t know your name, you don’t know about the Amish and photographs, what do you know?”
“Karen!” Sarah looked aghast.
John looked shocked for a full second then he threw back his head and laughed. “I know if I go back in the house someone is going to try and make me eat more. I’m still stuffed to the gills.”
Relieved to see him more comfortable, Karen said, “Then you had best go walk up an appetite because supper will get under way in about an hour.”
Sarah said, “Mr. Doe, I can’t use a photograph but if someone were to sketch your face I could use that.”
Nodding Karen said, “That is a goot idea. Sally Yoder has a fine hand with pencils. Perhaps she could draw his picture.”
John asked, “Is she the one with red hair and freckles?”
“Ja.” Karen looked around. “I saw her a few moments ago.”
Sarah said, “I saw her go upstairs with Katie and the baby. I will ask her if she would do a sketch of you. Provided her parents do not object. If she may, I will let you know.”
“I appreciate your help, Sarah. Thank you. And even if compliments are not permitted, I still say you sing like an angel.”
Her smile turned sad. “You should have heard my sister sing. She is the one with the voice of an angel.”
John waited until Sarah disappeared into the house then he turned his attention to Karen. “What did she mean about her sister?”
“Sarah has a twin sister. Bethany left here a month after Sarah’s husband died. She wrote Sarah a letter telling her she had to go away but gave no other explanation. No one has heard from her in three years. Most think she ran away with an Englischer. It broke Sarah’s heart.”
“I see. Well, I should let you get back to work.”
Karen didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to stay and find some way to make him laugh again. The sound made her heart light. It made her want to laugh out loud with him.
With a start, she realized what was happening. She was getting in over her head. When had she started to care so deeply for John?
Perhaps the moment she saw him lying in the ditch. Embarrassed by the flood of feelings she couldn’t control she took a step back. “Ja, I must go.”
He raised his hand but let it drop quickly to his side. “I guess I’ll see you when you get home.”
“It will be very late. We will have much cleaning up to do here.”
“I don’t mind staying up.” He smiled softly at her and left the porch to rejoin the men standing by Harold’s car.
* * *
Late that evening, John sat outside on the dawdy haus porch with his feet propped up on the rail and his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat. The cold night air was a reminder that winter would come roaring in soon.
What was he doing? He was waiting to get in trouble, that’s what.
The lights in the main house had been off for hours. The Imhoffs were normally early to bed and early to rise, but Karen had not yet returned from the wedding supper. Was she visiting with the women or was there a man in her life? Some tall, sturdy Amish farmer who would give her a dozen children and a lifetime of hard work?
John wanted to hope that was true, but even more he hoped it wasn’t.
The clatter of horse hooves on the lane finally announced her return. John rose to his feet but hesitated. What right did he have to engage Karen’s affections? The answer was abundantly clear. He had no business seeking time alone with her.
Even as his thoughts formed, his feet were moving toward the barn where she was unhitching the buggy. She saw him coming. She stood waiting, not speaking. He knew words would only sound artificial. Instead, he began unharnessing the horse, happy to be doing a simple thing for her.
Working in silence, they soon completed the task and led Molly to her stall. Karen lit a lantern so he could see to brush the mare down. He made quick work of it while Karen forked hay into the stall. When the mare was settled, they closed her stall door, put out the lantern and walked side-by-side out of the barn.
At the porch steps they paused by unspoken consent. Karen sat down, drawing her coat tighter. John sat beside her staring up into the night sky. A million twinkling stars decorated the black heavens with breathtaking beauty.
She pointed over the barn. “Look, there is a falling star. You should make a wish.”
Hunching his shoulders, he shook his head. “I don’t believe in wishing.”
“Why not?”
He gazed at her intently. “What good does it do to want a thing you cannot have?”
She drew the edges of her coat closer together. “When we say we wish the rain would stop, or we wish the sun would shine, or we wish you could remember, are these wishes not simply little prayers?”
“I guess they are.”
“Don’t you believe in the power of prayer?”
“Anna told me once that you remind her to pray. Are you trying to remind me now?”
“It is something we all need to do.”
He leaned back and braced his elbows on the step behind him. “I don’t remember how to pray. If I ever knew.”
“But you did. The day I found you, you began the Twenty-third Psalm. I’ve prayed it with you.”
“You did? I wish I could remember that.” He drank in the beauty of her face in the starlight, gathering in every detail to save in his memory. This night was one he never wanted to forget.
He leaned toward her. Uncertainty clouded her eyes and she looked away.
He drew a deep breath and leaned his head back. “I don’t remember the stars looking this beautiful.”
“Perhaps you lived in a city where the stars could not be seen.”
“Maybe.” John shook his head. “I don’t know, they just don’t seem right.”
She looked up. “What could be wrong with the wondrous night sky God has given us? I see nothing wrong with the stars. What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I look up and I think something is missing.”
“The moon is not yet up. Perhaps that is what’s missing.”
He watched her intently. “Maybe the stars look wrong because they pale in comparison to your eyes.”
“Please don’t.” She dropped her gaze to stare at the ground.
“I’m sorry.” He’d meant every word, but he was sorry to cause her any distress.
“You’re forgiven.”
“I’m not sure I want to be forgiven for telling you what a beautiful person you are. I don’t mean just beautiful on the outside, although you are. I mean you’re beautiful on the inside.”
She raised her gaze to his. “You told me that once before. That I was beautiful. The day I found you. Before the ambulance came.”
“Did you believe me then?”
“I did,” she answered quietly.
“And do you believe me now?” He held his breath waiting for her answer.
“This is foolishness.” She surged to her feet and started to go inside but he caught her arm.
“Please don’t go. We’ll talk about something else. We’ll pretend we’re two old friends having a pleasant visit. You are my only friend, you know.”
She studied his face. “I know I am now, but you have other friends who are looking for you. You are not a man who cuts himself off from others. They will find you.”
“And what if they don’t? What if no one is looking for me? What if I’ll always be alone?” He couldn’t stop the quiver in his voice. The fear and the loneliness bottled up inside rose to choke him.
She reached out to cup his face. “Do not give up hope.”
Closing his eyes he covered her hands with his own and pressed them against his face, feeling the warmth and the strength and the compassion in her touch. Unbidden, a tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
Suddenly her arms were around him and she was holding him tight. “Be not afraid, John Doe, for God is with you. You are never alone.”
Wrapping his arms around her, he leaned into her strength. She comforted him as if he were a child, murmuring soft sounds of reassurance. He tried to choke back his tears, but it was no use.
CHAPTER NINE (#ua2947530-3874-5143-91c8-63ffb95308e1)
Karen held John tightly, her heart aching for him. All she had wanted from the moment she first saw him was to help him. She couldn’t imagine the suffering he had endured and was still enduring. He was in so much pain, but she didn’t know how to help.
He clung to her like a drowning man. His shoulders shook with muffled sobs. Offering him what comfort she could, she stroked his hair and whispered, “It will be okay.”
But would it be? She had faith in God’s plan for his life, but she knew that didn’t mean his life would be easy. Her own family was proof of that, but God had not abandoned them. He gave them strength and hope. Without her faith, it would have been impossible for her to go on.
John regained his composure before she was ready to let him go. Stepping away from her, he wiped his eyes on his sleeves. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, John. You have the right to grieve.”
“I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” She was shocked at how much she wanted to be needed by him. Shocked by how much she wanted to hold him and to be held by him.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and avoided making eye contact. “The doctors warned me that I might have a meltdown. Stress, you know. I guess I should have warned you, but I didn’t expect to start blubbering like a baby.”
Stepping back, he said, “Don’t let me keep you up any later, Karen. You’ve had a long day. I’ll be fine.”
“Many times I have found my burdens too heavy to bear. Tears help sometimes and so do prayers. Pray for strength, John.”
“I’ll try. Thanks. For everything.” He turned away and entered the grandfather house as if he couldn’t wait to get away.
Karen climbed the steps slowly and entered her kitchen. Inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, crossing her arms tightly.
Her collar was damp from John’s tears. She could still smell the faint scent of the soap he used, still feel his lingering warmth on her skin. Never in her life had she been drawn to a man the way she was drawn to John.
In a stunning moment of clarity she realized her feelings had progressed far beyond wanting to help him. The emotions filling her heart and mind were those a woman saved for the man she was to marry.
Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She blinked hard to hold them at bay.
It was wrong. Wrong to feel so much for someone not of her faith. How did it happen? How could she have been blind to the changes in her own heart?
She knew right from wrong. She recognized her need to be with John, to be held in his arms, to touch his face, those things were wrong.
In her mind she knew it—but her heart would not agree.
Any relationship between them was doomed. She knew that, but did John? Had she inadvertently set him up for more disappointment? She couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him more than he was already hurting.
“What am I going to do?” she whispered in the darkness.
To step outside the Ordnung, the rules of her faith, was to invite heartache for her and her entire family. She had others to think of. Her father had been through so much pain already. She could not add to his overburdened shoulders the shame of having a daughter shunned.
Straightening, she moved across the room and up the stairs, listening to the familiar creak of each tread, hoping not to wake anyone. After reaching her room, she got ready for bed and lay beneath the heavy quilt her mother had stitched. Somehow, she had to find a way to harden her heart against the temptation she faced. John would leave tomorrow afternoon when Emma had room for him at the inn. Until he was gone, Karen would guard her heart closely. No one must know how she felt.
Closing her eyes, she prayed for strength. It was a long time before she fell asleep.
* * *
John sat at the desk in his room listening to the hushed stillness of the night. Like a hamster in a wheel, his brain ran around and around the problems he faced, without generating any answers.
His breakdown tonight scared him more than he wanted to admit. Was the stress unhinging his mind? Could he face the fact that he might never remember his life from before?
It had been nearly three weeks since Karen found him. He had visited Amish and English farms all along Pleasant View Road. He’d spoken to dozens of families, and yet he was no closer to the answers he needed. No one knew who he was. How could he not be missed? Why wasn’t someone looking for him?
A chilling thought brought his overworked brain to a screeching halt. Maybe no one cared enough about him to wonder where he was.
What kind of man had he been? What kind of man wasn’t missed by anyone?
Panic rushed through him until he recalled Karen’s voice telling him he should pray for strength. He wanted to have faith in God’s goodness, but that was easier said than done.
He bowed his head, resting it on his folded hands, and spoke the words in his heart. “God, I’m floundering here. I’ve got no idea what You want from me. Karen says I need Your help and I believe her. She is the one good thing You’ve done for me.
“I can’t face this alone. You know I want answers. If I get them or not, well, that’s up to You. Just give me the strength to accept whatever comes and keep me from going insane.”
Raising his head, he drew a deep cleansing breath. Nothing had changed except for one small fact. Whatever happened, he didn’t have to face it alone.
The chill in the air soon drove him under the covers. Lying in bed, he knew he needed a new plan. The money he had wouldn’t last much longer. He could afford another week, maybe two at the inn in Hope Springs when he left here, but then what?
One more unanswerable question. He wanted to scream with frustration. Rolling to his side, he resolved to stop worrying about the future and have faith.
He slept fitfully the rest of the night. It was still dark outside when he gave up. Dressing in the chilly room he chided himself for not banking the fire the previous night. The stove was stone cold when he checked it and the wood box was empty.
Pausing on the front porch, he glanced at the main house. All the windows were still dark, even the ones upstairs. He wasn’t sure which one was Karen’s bedroom but he knew she would be up soon.
How would she treat him after seeing him break down last night? Would she think less of him? Did she see him as weak, now? Her opinion mattered. Maybe more than it should.
After carrying in an armload of wood, John set to work rebuilding the fire. When he had a small blaze going, he closed the firebox door and straightened, noticing his ribs didn’t protest the movement. Physically, he was healing.
Mentally? Not so much. He needed something to do. Something to keep him busy besides endlessly turning over every rock in his mind looking for his memory.
A sudden idea occurred to him. Karen’s father needed help with the chores. Horses were something John seemed to know about. He glanced out the window toward the barn. He was up, he might as well lend Eli a hand.
He was in the barn thirty minutes later when Jacob and Noah came in yawning and with lagging steps.
“Morning,” John called cheerfully. He finished shoveling out the last stall, then laid his pitchfork and shovel on top of the heaping wheelbarrow.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jacob demanded.
“Mucking out the stalls.” John started toward the rear of the barn.
Noah grinned and fell into step beside John. “Yippee. Now I don’t have to do it.”
Jacob chided Noah in Pennsylvania Dutch. John understood the tone if not the actual words.
Noah’s grin turned to a scowl. “I’m going to help Jacob with the milking.”
Looking over Noah’s head, John said, “I have one more stall to do. If you want to show me how to milk a cow I could help with that, too.”
“We do not need your help, English.” Jacob took his younger brother by the sleeve and pulled him toward the dairy cows patiently waiting by their stanchions.
After dumping his wheelbarrow load, John returned to the last stall. Slipping a halter on One-Way’s head, John led him out to the small paddock and turned him loose. Snorting and prancing, One-Way showed his appreciation of the open space by bucking his way around the enclosure.
Smiling at the animal’s high spirits, John said, “Work off a little of that ginger and maybe we’ll try some training later.”
One-Way trotted to the fence. Stretching his neck over the top boards, he playfully nipped at John’s sleeve, then took off like a rocket.
“I don’t care what you think of the plan,” John shouted after him. “There’s a harness in your future. You’d better get used to the idea.”
Chuckling to himself, John finished cleaning One-Way’s stall. After making sure all of the horses had hay, grain and freshwater, he brought the young Standardbred back in. Locking the stall door, John leaned on it admiring the horse.
Behind him, he heard Anna say, “There you are, John Doe. Have you forgotten where the house is?”
Stifling his amusement, John crouched in front of her. “I’m so glad you found me. I thought I was going to have to stay out here with the horses all day. Which way do I go?”
Anna shook her head as she grasped his hand. “Come, I will show you. Breakfast is ready.”
“Thank you.” Rising, he let the child lead the way, but stopped when he saw Eli watching them.
Anna said, “I found him, Papa. He forgot where the house was.”
Eli’s lips twitched. “Thank you, Anna. Run along and tell Karen we are coming.”
“Hurry up ’cause I’m hungry.” She headed toward the house at a run.
Eli moved to the nearest stall where a pretty brown mare with a white star greeted him. “Noah tells me you did his chores.”
“I hope you don’t mind. I felt the need to work. I’ve loafed long enough.”
“Work is goot for a man’s body and soul.”
“It felt good. It felt right.”
Eli turned away from his inspection of John’s work and began walking toward the house. “What are your plans now?”
John fell into step beside him. “I’ve talked to just about everyone in the community and I’ve come up empty. I guess I need to find work and a place to live now. I’m not giving up hope. I’m just being practical.”
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