Seeking Amish Shelter

by Alison Stone

  Is that the only reason you want to chase Zach down?

  She laughed quietly to herself. So much for staying in the moment.

  * * *

  Zach took a moment to take in the sunset. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slowed down to do something so basic. He also couldn’t remember the last time a woman had gotten under his skin like Bridget had. Considering his upbringing and life experiences, he had kept his heart guarded.

  And he never crossed the line when it came to work and his personal life.

  You’re officially on leave, remember? No lines crossed.

  He filled his lungs, then slowly exhaled. Sounded like an excuse to him.

  The kiss had been innocent, but perhaps he had been selfish. Maybe a little curious, too. Bridget had enough on her mind without him playing with her emotions. Yet he couldn’t help himself. She looked so pretty, the sun catching the gold specks in her hair, the sunset casting her in the perfect light.

  He took a step backward and rubbed the back of his head. Yeah, he probably should have resisted the impulse to kiss Bridget. His life didn’t leave room for women like her. Someone who’d eventually want a husband and kids. A normal life. His life, his work, were anything but normal. He shook away the thought, realizing the simple kiss, after knowing Bridget for exactly four days, had sent his mind spinning.

  Yeah, he definitely needed that leave. He was losing his focus.

  Zach squared his shoulders, and after a quick knock on the door of Bridget’s grandfather’s house, he slipped inside. He found Jeremiah sitting at the table, chewing on the mouthpiece of his pipe, studying something in front of him.

  “I suggest you get a good night’s sleep.” Jeremiah rested his pipe in a tray and turned to look at him expectantly. “We have a lot of work in the morning.”

  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Zach said, pausing on the way to the small room off the kitchen where he had slept last night. He wanted to make sure he didn’t leave anything behind.

  “Oh?” Jeremiah’s pale, bushy eyebrow drew down.

  “I’m afraid I’m headed back to Buffalo tonight.” In that moment, Zach felt sad to be going. For the short time he had been here, he had enjoyed the elderly man’s company. By all accounts, he was a faithful follower of the ways of the Amish, but it seemed that age had softened him and allowed him to be more open to the possibilities of the world beyond this small farm.

  “And you’re taking Bridget?” He folded the small paper and tucked it under a black leather-bound book. Without waiting for an answer, he added, “We’ll be sad to see her go.” He pushed back from the table, and the smooth, carved pine legs on the chair screeched on the hardwood floor.

  “Bridget is staying,” Zach said, wanting to deliver some good news to this kindly old man.

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know.” Mentally Zach sifted through all the information, but before he could say more, Jeremiah held up a shaky hand, gnarled from years of hard labor. “We still have to—”

  “I don’t want to know.”

  Zach laughed, imagining the list of chores Jeremiah had in mind. “I appreciate your hospitality, thank you.”

  Jeremiah seemed to consider this. He adjusted his glasses on his face. “Ah, yeah, I suppose I shouldn’t have looked a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “Well...” Zach started to say goodbye when the elderly man grabbed his cane resting against the table and slowly walked toward him.

  “I don’t need to know what’s going on in the outside world, but I can see what’s going on right outside my home.” He gestured to the view from the window over the small kitchen table.

  Zach reflected on his tender interaction with Bridget moments ago. Perhaps her grandfather had been watching them, misinterpreting it. Is he? He opened his mouth to explain, then snapped it shut. There was nothing to explain.

  Jeremiah dragged his hand through his beard in a contemplative manner. “You got family?”

  Zach shrugged, a nonanswer, then realized Bridget’s grandfather would never accept that. “My mom lives in Buffalo. I don’t see much of her.”

  Jeremiah tilted his head. “Why is that?”

  “Long story.”

  “I’ve got plenty of time.” Jeremiah pinned Zach with a steady gaze. “Family is important. That’s something the Amish got right.” He raised his hand, palm up. “I have this cozy little house right on the property. My family takes care of me.”

  “Can’t say my family is the same. We’re what people might call dysfunctional.” Zach hadn’t planned to get into any details with this chatty old man.

  “I can tell you’re hurt. The hurt doesn’t go away if you keep feeding it.”

  Zach tossed another brick on the wall he had built around his heart. “You don’t know my mother.”

  “Forgiveness is not only for those who are receiving it.” Jeremiah motioned to nothing in particular with his chin. “You need to let go of the hurt.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.” Zach carefully chose his words. He didn’t want to offend Bridget’s grandfather. His mother didn’t deserve forgiveness. People who made choices like she had would never change.

  “Before you go, I could use some help.” Jeremiah shuffled over to him. “We’re expecting heavy rain in a few days, and I need to clean out the gutters.”

  Zach tilted his head and smiled. “You want me to clean your gutters? I was going to hit the road tonight.”

  “Can you make time for an old man? I was thinking we’d get started first thing in the morning.” Jeremiah waved his hand and made his final plea, “They’re not going to clean themselves.”

  Zach bit back a sigh and agreed.

  * * *

  The next morning, a commotion sounded outside her childhood home. Bridget sprang out of bed. She planted her hands on the sill and strained to listen.

  “Go on now.” Bridget’s grandfather was talking to someone outside her line of sight.

  Bridget spun back around. Liddie’s bed had already been made. A pang of guilt jolted her. If she planned on staying—for the week, at least—she should help with chores. Make an effort. Stop treating her parents’ home like a bed-and-breakfast.

  Bridget hurriedly washed her face and got ready for the day, making sure her hair was neatly tucked under her bonnet. She paused when she caught her reflection in the mirror and stared at her kapp and makeup-free face. How was it possible to look so much like the young woman who had escaped in the middle of the night at age twenty, but to feel like a completely different person inside? Wasn’t she a different person?

  A wave of certainty stiffened Bridget’s spine. She could play the role for a few days. Whatever it took to remain safe. She went downstairs. Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table doing some mending. “Hello, sleepyhead.”

  Bridget drew up short. “What time is it?”

  “I’ll be getting lunch ready soon.”

  “Oh... I had no idea.” Bridget must have been exhausted. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a walk. I’ll come back in time to help you with lunch.”

  “Of course,” her mother said. She gave her daughter an expression that Bridget couldn’t quite read.

  “Thirty minutes okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  Bridget nodded and stepped outside. A soft late-morning breeze kicked up the hem of her dress. She stepped off the porch and went in search of her grandfather. She found him around the side of his house giving instructions to a man on a ladder. A man who looked most definitely like Special Agent Zach Bryant dressed in plain clothing with a straw hat perched on his head. She blinked a few times, feeling a smile pull on her lips. He was the most handsome “Amish” man she had ever seen.

  Shielding her eyes with her hand, she looked up at Zach at the top of the ladder. “I thought you
were going to leave?”

  Zach cut his eyes toward her grandfather. “Me too.” A handsome smile lit his face. “Your grandfather is persuasive.” He reached into the gutter with a gloved hand and pulled out a stack of leaves and threatened to drop them on Bridget’s head.

  She took a giant leap back and laughed. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Then you better stay out of my way. I’ve got work to do here.”

  The sweet country air filled Bridget’s lungs. One of her brothers ran toward the dawdy haus with the wheelbarrow, and the other one had a rake. In their plain clothing and straw hats, one brother was hard to distinguish from the other. Caleb and Elijah were both growing into strong young men. Bridget hated the idea of not being a part of their lives once she left again. She quickly shoved the idea away and focused on this very moment. Be present.

  Her grandfather was in his element, giving directions to those under his charge. Liddie appeared after a while and then disappeared, promising to return with sandwiches. She waved Bridget off when she offered to come in and help. The only element that created a whiff of tension was when their father crossed the yard on the way from the barn to the house. His silent disdain was palpable.

  Shortly after Zach finished clearing the gutters and her brothers pushed the wheelbarrow into the line of trees and dumped the leaves, her sister emerged with sandwiches and sliced apples. She spread out a large tablecloth over the picnic table. Liddie encouraged Bridget to join her family for the meal despite the Bann. “No one out here is going to mind. Please sit,” Liddie whispered. “Besides, Zach’s not exactly on the path to Amish baptism.” Liddie laughed at her own joke, and their grandfather shook his head, light dancing in his eyes.

  “My friend Zach was good enough to dress the part,” Jeremiah said. “I figured it might appease your father.” Her grandfather added the last little bit in a tone that suggested there was no appeasing her father.

  Bridget found her gaze drifting toward the house. She suspected her father was watching them. She could sense his disapproving gaze. She shook off the foreboding feeling. She owed her father respect, but she was an adult and had to make her own decisions. She refused to give up her calling for him.

  Bridget took a seat next to Zach. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them, half expecting that the family that surrounded her—and this handsome man who had come suddenly into her life—would be gone.

  They weren’t. They were right here. With her. Under the warm summer sun.

  Bridget took a bite of her sandwich and savored it. All of it.

  Because soon, this would all be gone.

  TWELVE

  Bridget ran her thumb over the flat surface of a perfect skimming rock while Zach took a phone call on their after-lunch stroll. She walked a little bit ahead to give him privacy. She palmed the rock, gauging its weight. Being out here brought back carefree memories from her childhood when she and her siblings had finished their chores and then escaped to the pond. She tossed up the rock and caught it in the same hand, then zinged it across the pond.

  One. Two. Three. Four. She counted the skips before the rock sank to the water’s depths.

  An exceptionally good skipping rock combined with the right flick of the wrist had her looking around to share her excitement. She found Zach watching her, a smile softening the hard plains of his face. “Nice.” Zach flashed her a thumbs up, then checked the phone again. He had graciously agreed to go for a walk with her when she knew his plans to return to Buffalo had already been derailed multiple times. And based on the phone calls, he probably couldn’t delay his return much longer.

  The knot of dread in her stomach had loosened a fraction, replaced by something she was afraid to identify. She hadn’t felt this kind of spark since Moses Lapp had courted her. No, not even then. Moses had been more persistent in pursuing her than she had been in being pursued. She had accepted the rides and his attention because Bridget thought maybe if she found the right partner, she’d finally settle in and do what was expected of her. Be the nice Amish girl.

  Obviously, it hadn’t taken.

  “You’re pretty good at that,” Zach said, stuffing his cell phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

  “I’ve had a lot of practice.” She forced a nonchalance into her tone. She gestured toward the phone with her chin. “Sounded important.” She’d never get used to how cell phones had the potential to interrupt any of life’s moments. Part of her didn’t want Zach to tell her what the call was about so they could continue their outing and shut out the world for a little bit longer.

  Bridget bent down and picked up another rock, then dropped it. She rubbed her hands together to get rid of the grit.

  “I have some bad news,” Zach finally said. She closed her eyes briefly, wanted to stop this conversation, stop it from happening here where she had so many happy memories.

  Bridget crossed her arms tightly over her chest to brace herself. Please, dear Lord, she prayed, not knowing what she was pleading for.

  “Dr. Ryan’s dead.”

  Bridget’s arms fell, and she rocked back on the heels of her boots. The news set every inch of her skin on fire. “Dr. Ryan? He was in jail.”

  Zach took a step closer to her. He seemed hesitant before lifting his hand and gently cupping her elbow. “Someone got to him.”

  A wave of nausea rolled over her. “Someone got to him?” she repeated, trying to figure out how that had happened. Her pulse chugged in her ears, making her feel disoriented. “How is that possible in jail?”

  “I wish I could say it’s impossible. It’s not. People can be paid off.” Zach scrubbed a hand across his face.

  “His poor family.” Tears burned the backs of her eyes. “His poor wife.” She shook her head slowly, feeling sick. “His sons.”

  “The doctor didn’t deserve to die. No one does. Not like that.”

  Bridget lifted her eyes to study his. “I started all of this...” A warm breeze fluttered her dress and made her shudder.

  “You didn’t start this.” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “This is not your fault.”

  She stepped back, out of his embrace, suddenly in a panic. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’ve put my family in danger.” You knew that all along. You never think. You’re selfish. The voice of self-doubt mocked her. “I can’t stay here anymore.”

  Zach caught her hand and stopped her frantic movements. “You are safe here. You have not put your family in danger. You’ve done everything right. You came forward when you suspected Dr. Ryan. You did the right thing,” he repeated. “These drugs are killing people.”

  The intensity of his last statement made her blood run cold. She locked gazes with his probing brown eyes. “Your sister’s death has given your life purpose.”

  He never took his eyes off her. “I can’t go back in time and bring my sister back. But I can save other people from suffering the same fate.” He dragged a hand through his hair. He bent and picked up a rock, dropped it, then found another. He flung it, and the stone sank fast and deep.

  His vulnerability drew her closer. “My father warned me—warned all of us about the dangers of the outside world. I never wanted to listen.”

  “Do you really think nothing bad can go on here?”

  “Not like in Buffalo.” Bridget slipped her arm around his back and placed her head on his strong shoulder. What if they had met under different circumstances? What if he didn’t live his life undercover?

  Zach kissed the top of her head. “I never should have left my sister. Leann got involved with the wrong people, and my mother was helpless to stop it.” His solid chest rose and fell on a heavy sigh. “For all I know, my mom was the one who brought the drug dealers into my sister’s life. I should have stayed and gotten the both of us out of there.”

  Bridget looked up at him, his face only inches from hers. She resisted
the urge to reach up and run the tips of her fingers across the stubble of his unshaven jaw. He looked good. He always looked good, but she preferred him clean-shaven. Maybe because all the men in her life growing up had beards. A clean-shaven man represented the outside world to her. “Maybe you should go see her.”

  “No point.” Zach smiled sadly. “I can’t forgive her. She’ll never change.”

  Bridget shifted her gaze to the pond, not quite ready to step away from Zach. Tiny diamonds of sunlight danced on the pond’s small ripples in the soft breeze. “Forgiveness isn’t only about the other person. It’s about finding peace in your heart. If you forgive your mom for what you suspect are her shortcomings—”

  “Suspect?” He interrupted, the single word sharp and accusatory. He stepped away from her. “I know what my mother was like.”

  “Okay,” Bridget said softly, “okay. If you can forgive your mother for not being the mother she needed to be, it doesn’t mean you accept what she did or didn’t do. It means you’ve forgiven her shortfalls and can move forward in your own life without the burden.”

  “Your grandfather was talking about forgiveness, too,” Zach grumbled. “Well, that might not work in the real world.”

  “This is no less the real world than life in Buffalo. My family and my ancestors chose to live this way. Separate from the world. And considering everything that’s going on in the outside world, it’s not necessarily a bad choice.” The weight of her message had her lowering herself onto a large rock and stretching her legs out in front of her. “This whole situation with Dr. Ryan and the drugs is never going to go away for me, is it?” She adjusted her long skirt over her legs and studied her boots. “I’m never going to be safe if I go back to Buffalo.”

  His concerned look said more than any words could.

  “Maybe this is a giant sign.” Bridget held up her palms to the sky.