by Debby Giusti
Without commenting further on Becca’s inability to comprehend the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect, Hattie pointed to the chair across from Ezekiel. “Sit, dear, before the food grows cold.”
Taking her place at the table, Becca kept her hands on her lap, unsure of the midday meal routine. This morning she had started to eat and then noticed Hattie bowing her head to give thanks. She didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.
Once Hattie was seated, Zeke lowered his gaze. Hattie did the same and Becca followed suit. From the recesses of her limited memory a prayer surfaced.
Thank you for this food and bless all of us today, especially those who cannot be here. Bring peace to our hearts, lighten our steps and help us to do all things according to Your Holy Will. Amen.
She should have been relieved to remember something, anything, but recalling the short prayer only made her want to remember more.
Was it an Amish prayer that she had said with her parents as a child? Or a prayer she said with her own children? How could a mother forget her little ones, those she should love most?
Ezekiel said something.
She glanced up to find him offering an open jar of pickles. She jabbed one with a fork and placed the pickle on her plate. “Danki.”
Hattie patted her hand. “Is everything all right, dear? You look troubled.”
“I’m concerned about upsetting you both by being here.”
“Do not think such thoughts. We are happy to have you as our guest.”
Becca glanced at Zeke. His eyes were on his plate. He didn’t seem as enthusiastic as his aunt about having a stranger in the house, yet he had been the one to bring her here.
She shuddered thinking of what could have happened if he hadn’t found her.
“Is that not right, Ezekiel?”
He glanced at his aunt, his brow raised.
“I said that we are both glad to have Becca with us, yah?” Hattie prompted.
He turned his dark eyes on her again, making Becca’s breath catch as she lost herself for a moment in his gaze. If only she could read his mind.
She reached for her fork. “I am thankful you found me, Ezekiel. If you had not—”
She couldn’t go on. Her mind failed to remember the past, yet it could bring forward terrible thoughts of what could have happened last night.
“All things work together for good,” Hattie intoned with a definitive nod of her head.
Becca wasn’t as sure. She took a bite of the meat mixture, but the food stuck in her throat. More than anything, she wanted to push back from the table and run upstairs to hide from Zeke’s dark eyes and all the questions she saw in his troubled gaze.
She didn’t want to bother this man and his aunt any longer, but before leaving, she needed to find out who she was, no matter how difficult the truth might be to accept.
“Did I hear you mention a nearby town?” she asked, needing something on which to focus other than the man sitting across the table from her.
“Yah, Willkommen,” Hattie answered. “It is some miles away. Does the name sound familiar, dear?”
“Regrettably, nothing sounds familiar.”
Zeke reached for his coffee cup. “You wish to go there?”
“It might help me remember if something triggers my memory.”
“Willkommen has a sheriff,” Hattie mused. “He might know of anyone who is missing.”
“You mean he might have information regarding who I am and where I live?”
Hattie leaned closer. “Yah, but I must warn you, dear. If you go to town and ask questions, you could find more than you want to know.”
“I don’t understand.”
She rubbed Becca’s hand. “Think, dear. You were running from someone last night. If you notify the sheriff, he could tell the person who was chasing after you.”
Hattie shrugged before adding, “A mean husband is someone to fear.”
Becca glanced at Ezekiel, then turned back to Hattie. “I don’t feel like I have a husband.”
“And how would that feel, dear?”
“I... I’m not sure, but wouldn’t I remember the man I loved?”
Hattie leaned even closer. “Perhaps you have a husband you do not love.”
“Yet if I am married, there could be children.”
Ezekiel’s gaze darkened all the more. The direction of the conversation seemed to be unsettling to both of them. “I will go to town and see for myself without involving the sheriff,” Becca said. “Perhaps then I will remember.”
“Ezekiel will take you in the buggy,” Hattie volunteered. “But you must dress so no one will recognize you.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“You should wear men’s clothing, dear. You are slim and not so tall. People would think you a young Amish lad.”
Hattie sat back and smiled with satisfaction. “Dressing as a man would be a perfect cover. Ezekiel’s clothing is too big for you, but I kept a few of my husband’s things. I will find something you can wear.”
Ezekiel stared at Becca, as if she had been the one to suggest the idea of dressing as a man. Hattie was right. The costume would keep Becca from being recognized, especially from anyone who might do her harm, yet the idea of needing to hide her identity from others when she didn’t even know who she was or where she lived weighed heavy on her shoulders.
The sound of a vehicle turning into the drive made Becca’s heart stop. Zeke glanced at her as if he too was concerned.
“Stay here,” he cautioned as he rose from the table and walked to the door, grabbing his hat before he stepped outside.
“Ach.” Hattie patted her chest as if patting down a swell of apprehension, which was exactly what Becca had bubbling up in her own throat. “I do not know who would be coming to see us.”
Hattie’s gaze narrowed, and she pursed her lips. Then, with a shrug of her shoulders, she added, “We go for days without visitors and now they come one after the other.”
Some friendly and some not, Becca thought, her stomach a jumble of nerves. Didn’t Hattie realize they were coming because she was here?
Hattie pushed back from the table, hurried to the sink and then peered from the kitchen window. “It is a tall man who steps from a van. The Montcliff Studio logo is on the passenger door.”
She glanced back at Becca. “I will go outside to learn the purpose of his visit. Perhaps it is the man Caleb mentioned.”
“Please, Hattie, don’t invite him in.”
The older woman nodded, then reached for the doorknob and stepped onto the porch, leaving the door ajar.
In spite of the cool air coming through the open doorway, Becca moved closer, hoping to overhear what was being said. Her pulse raced when she peered outside. A tall, muscular man stood by the van.
The footfalls of the man who had chased after her last night played through her memory. From the sound of him stomping through the underbrush, he had to have been a big man, tall in stature and with a bulky build.
Her gaze homed in on the Montcliff Studio logo on the side of the van. Apprehension zigzagged along her spine as she stared at the black-and-white graphic, longing to remember why it drew her attention.
The man walked to the front of the van, closer to where Zeke stood.
A lump jammed Becca’s throat as she saw the movie man’s long legs and thick build. Hands on his hips, he stared at the barn and then the outbuildings as if searching for something.
Was he searching for her?
Tears burned Becca’s eyes, but she forced them back. Why would an Englisch man from a movie studio be looking for her?
He extended his hand to Zeke. “The name’s Larry Landers. I’m the location manager at Montcliff.”
Zeke accepted his handshake without comment.
“The movie studio,” Larry added as if f
or clarification. “As you probably know, we’ve been here for the last six months.”
“I know about the studio, Mr. Landers,” Zeke said. “It is located higher up the mountain on Levi Gingerich’s land.”
“That’s right. We’re almost finished with the production of our first film and hope to begin work on our next project in a few weeks. I’m looking for farmland on which to shoot a trailer and a few preliminary scenes, maybe as early as the end of the week.”
“An Amish farm?” Zeke seemed perplexed by the statement.
Landers chuckled, although the gruff sound was anything but humorous. “I mentioned shooting, but not with a weapon, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Raising his hand, palm out, Landers quickly added, “I know you folks are pacifists.”
Becca heard disdain in the man’s voice.
“What I meant,” Landers continued, “was shooting the film. And yes, we’re scheduled to shoot an Amish story and are looking for an Amish farm, otherwise we might have to use someplace in town.”
He pulled a folder from the van and handed the packet to Zeke. “The studio will pay to use your property for a week or two, depending on the weather. We’ll need your authorization. Our landscape crew will arrive as soon as the contract is signed. Their job will be to enhance the property.”
“The land is as Gott provided, Mr. Landers. It does not need to be enhanced.”
“You’re right, of course. Be assured you’ll be compensated for your time and trouble.”
Zeke glanced at the contract, then closed the folder and handed it back. “The farm belongs to my aunt. She is not interested in your contract.”
“You didn’t read the offer.” Landers gazed at the barn and the pasture where the horses grazed. “You folks look like you could use some financial help. I can increase the payment by half to sweeten the deal.”
“Sweet or sour, there is no deal, Mr. Landers.”
“Look, I apologize if I’ve upset you. Perhaps if I talked to your aunt.”
Noticing Hattie on the porch, he took a step forward. “Ma’am, if I could have a moment of your time.”
“You would not hear anything different from her.” Zeke’s tone was firm.
“What about some of your neighbors?” Landers asked.
“You will find more farms in the valley. Some are owned and operated by Englisch farmers. Perhaps they would be willing to rent their land.”
The guy shook his head with frustration. “You’re missing an excellent opportunity.”
Again, he played his gaze over the barn, then turned and stared at the kitchen door for a long moment.
Becca drew back, fearing he could see her. If so, would he recognize her?
He hesitated for a long moment and then added, “Have you folks seen anyone from the movie studio wandering around in the area?”
“Why do you pose such a question?” Zeke asked.
Larry offered a half-hearted smile. “The relationship between the Amish and our studio is not the best. I want to ensure we don’t disrupt your way of life more than we already have.”
“No one unknown has come through my aunt’s property, if that is your question.”
The guy glanced once more at the house. Becca’s heart stopped. She held her breath, fearing he had seen her.
Abruptly, Landers turned and scanned the rest of the farm.
“Let me know if you change your mind about the land.” He shook Zeke’s hand, then threw the folder onto the passenger seat and climbed behind the wheel. Without further comment, he backed the van onto the road.
“Levi Gingerich never should have rented his property to those movie people,” Hattie groused as she pushed on the kitchen door and wiped her feet on the entry rug. Zeke followed her inside.
“Levi may have needed money,” she continued. “But we do not need a movie studio on the mountain. I have seen some of those people in town. They do not understand the Amish way. Plus, from what I have heard, they are a wild bunch who do not conform to Christian values.”
“You are lumping them all together into one pot,” Zeke cautioned. “I am sure the majority of the actors and actresses are gut people.”
Hattie harrumphed as she walked past Becca and headed to the stove. Zeke returned to the table without comment.
Becca’s heart beat erratically. The tall, muscular man had been looking for someone. Did Zeke and Hattie not realize he could have been looking for her?
She glanced first at Hattie and then back at Zeke. Grateful though she was for their hospitality, she was a stranger in their midst. A stranger with a made-up name and no knowledge of the life she had lived or even her age. A man had chased her last night, and she had been chased again this morning. Now another man with a haughty manner had stopped at the farm.
Tears stung her eyes, but they were a sign of weakness, at least that’s what a little voice whispered in her head. A voice from the past perhaps? How could she know what was memory and what was her own mind playing tricks on her?
“Becca, are you all right?” Hattie asked.
“If you don’t mind, I need to go to my room.” She left the kitchen and climbed the stairs, stepping into the bedroom just as the tears started to fall.
She closed the door behind her and moved to the window, wanting to ensure the studio van was out of sight. Her heart lurched when she saw the vehicle stopped on the side of the mountain road. Larry Landers stood in front of the Montcliff Studio logo on the side of his van. He held binoculars to his eyes and was staring back at Hattie’s house.
Becca jerked away from the window. Fear gripped her anew. Her pulse raced. Who was the man from the movie studio and why was he spying on her?
Pulling in a deep breath, she moved closer and peered again from the window. A black car like the one she had seen this morning had pulled behind the studio van and a bearded man with his hair pulled into a bun was talking to Landers.
Was he asking about an Englisch woman he had seen walking along the roadway? As she watched, the bearded man turned and stared at Hattie’s house, seemingly zeroing in on the guest room window. Again, Becca stepped back, her heart in her throat.
She dropped her head into her hands. The worry and anxiety that had circled through her mind collided in a wave of emotion, like a giant tsunami washing over her. Hot tears ran down her cheeks and dampened her dress, but she couldn’t stop their onslaught.
Struggling to remember anything, she thought back to the woods where the branches had caught at her dress. Was Larry Landers the person who had chased after her last night? Or could it have been the bearded man with the bun? If only she could have seen the man’s face, but all she could remember was the blood on the carpet. So much blood.
She thought of something else that made her pulse race even more.
The knife.
Her heart stopped.
The knife that had dropped from her hand was covered with blood.
FIVE
“Tuck your hair into this hat,” Hattie instructed the next afternoon as she handed a wide-brim black hat to Becca. “My husband’s clothing fits you well, yah? The hat will sit low on your head and cover your hair. It will also cover the swelling on your head and the bruise on your cheek.”
“And what happens if I go inside and need to remove my hat?” Becca asked.
“You will leave it on. A young boy will not be noticed but stay in the buggy if you are concerned. You will see with your eyes as Ezekiel drives through town. Something might bring back your memory. A store, a street, a person. You must be watchful.”
Hattie adjusted the hat on Becca’s head. “And you must be careful lest you see the man who chased after you through the woods.”
As well as the man who had pursued her into the pasture and the tall man who had stopped by the farm yesterday. Becca’s sleep had been fitful, i
nterspersed with dreams of running from two men holding binoculars. She wouldn’t worry Hattie, but the sweet Amish woman was right. Becca needed to be watchful not only in town but also here on Hattie’s farm.
“I’ll be careful, Hattie. You can be assured of that. Zeke is good to take me to town. I appreciate everything both of you have done.”
“Soon your memory will return and you can decide whether to go back to the life you knew or to move on and make a new life for yourself. Gott will let you know the direction you must take.”
“God might answer your prayers, Hattie, but He ignores mine.”
The older woman tsked. “Hard though it might be to feel His love during difficult times, we must believe what Scripture tells us.”
Becca tugged on the hat. “I’m not sure if Scripture was ever part of my life.”
“You are Amish, dear. The Bible is important in your life. You can be sure of this.”
Becca couldn’t be sure of anything, not when she had no memory. She hesitated for a moment, searching for a Bible verse. None came.
Her stomach growled.
“You are hungry,” Hattie stated as if any troublesome situation could be resolved with food.
Becca shook her head. “That’s not the problem, Hattie.”
The older woman nodded knowingly. “Then it is your concern for what you will learn today. You are anxious. Warm milk will soothe your stomach.”
Becca wanted to laugh. Or cry. She wasn’t sure which.
“You’re making me feel like a young child. Warm milk will not ease my concern, but I appreciate the offer.”
She rubbed her hand over her stomach. “Once I am in town, everything will be better. Fear grows when we anticipate that which is never as bad as we imagine.”
“You remember that from your past?”
Becca sighed. “I’m not sure.”
Hattie smiled. “No matter who you are, Becca Troyer. You are a smart woman, yah?”
She nodded. “I hope I am smart enough to find out who I am.”
“And who you were running from, yah?” Hattie added.
