by Debby Giusti
Another rap sounded at the kitchen door. She glanced out the window, relieved to see the tall Amish man standing on the porch. She raked her hair out of her face, twisted the lock and pulled open the door.
Her breath hitched. She hadn’t realized how tall he was or how muscular. She pulled the sweater across her chest and took a step back, needing to distance herself from his bulk and his pensive eyes that stared down at her.
He held out a large ceramic mug. “Coffee?”
In his other hand, he held a jug of milk that he gave her. “There’s sugar in the kitchen. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
“The children are still asleep.”
“Wake them so they can eat.”
“I wanted to let them sleep.”
“Chores need to be done.”
“Chores?”
He nodded. “A farm does not run on its own. To eat, we must work.”
She glanced around his broad chest and scanned the surrounding area. Horses grazed in a nearby pasture. Cattle waited at a feed trough in the distance.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”
“Gut.” He turned and headed back to his house.
Julia inhaled the rich aroma of the coffee, added a dollop of milk and sighed with the first sip. Strong and hot, just the way she liked it.
Turning back to the kitchen, she spied a wooden box and opened the lid, seeing the insulation and feeling the coolness. She bent to examine a trap door that she slid open to find a chunk of ice.
“Who needs electricity?” She placed the milk in the aluminum-lined icebox and then tugged their suitcases upstairs. She rummaged through the contents until she found her toiletries.
Using the water in the pitcher, she washed her face and hands and brushed her teeth, then pulled her hair into a knot at the base of her neck.
Taking another sip of coffee, she knocked on William’s open door and stepped toward the bed. “Time to get up, sleepyhead.”
She brushed her hand over his hair, wishing he could always be so calm and peaceful. “Abraham is fixing breakfast. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
William opened one eye. “That big dude cooks?”
Julia tried to squelch a smile. “That dude is named Abraham. I have a feeling he can do a lot of things, and it sounds as though if you miss breakfast, you won’t eat until lunch.”
Both eyes opened. “Okay. I’m outta here.”
“I put a clean shirt on the chair. There’s water in the pitcher. Pour it into the basin to wash your hands and face and brush your teeth.”
“Rules, Mom. Too many.”
No doubt their host would have more rules for them to follow.
Kayla woke with a smile and hopped out of bed without needing to be told twice. She slipped into a fresh blouse and jeans and reached for her doll, tucked under the quilt. “I hope Mr. Abraham makes something good for breakfast. My tummy is hungry.”
“Whatever he prepares will be appreciated, Kayla. Be sure to say please and thank you.”
“I always remember even if Will doesn’t.”
“You set a good example for your brother.”
The child smiled as if they shared a secret. Julia brushed Kayla’s hair and helped her wash her face. “You look lovely.”
Hand in hand, they headed downstairs, where William waited in the kitchen. “It’s weird, Mom.”
“What is?”
“The fridge looks like a box cooled with a big chunk of ice.”
“That’s what it is, Will. An icebox. The Amish don’t use electricity.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Maybe to you, but many people enjoy the plain life as it’s called.”
“Plain and stupid,” Will grumbled under his breath. Julia chose to ignore the remark as she pulled open the kitchen door and guided the children into the cool springtime morning.
The musky smell of the rich soil and fresh air greeted them. She peered at the sun, which was peeking through an overcast sky. A crow cawed from the branches of a gnarled oak in the front yard. The irony wasn’t lost on her. For so long, she had yearned to live in the country where the air wasn’t stagnant with car exhaust and a crowd of buildings didn’t block the sun. Strange that her son being caught in the middle of a gang war would lead them to this remote Amish farm.
Then she thought of the Philadores, who wouldn’t give up their search until they found William. Narrowing her gaze, she stared at the distant road where a pickup truck traveled well over the speed limit. Someone local, no doubt, yet instinctively, she put her arm around Will’s shoulder and pulled him close.
God, if you’re listening, protect my child.
He shrugged out of her hold just as the door to the nearby house opened and Abraham stepped onto the porch.
“I had planned to ring the dinner bell to summon you,” he said, his voice warm with welcome. “Your timing is perfect. Breakfast is on the table.”
Kayla ran ahead and climbed the stairs. “I’m hungry, Mr. Abraham.”
“What about your dolly?” Abraham asked, eyeing the doll she clutched in her arm.
Kayla smiled. “She’s hungry, too.”
“Does she have a name?”
“Marianne. My daddy gave her to me.”
Abraham’s face clouded. He glanced at Julia, pain visible in his gaze.
“Mr. Abraham might not want a doll at the breakfast table,” Julia said to ease his upset. Then, fearing they may have offended his faith, she added, “As I recall, Amish dolls don’t have faces, although I’m not sure why.”
“It has to do with graven images, but only in certain communities.” Abraham held up his hand. “Having a doll with a face is not a problem here in Yoder.”
He glanced down at Kayla and smiled. “If you do not mind, I will call your doll Annie.”
The child shrugged. “That’s a pretty name, too.”
“What do you and Annie usually eat for breakfast?” he asked.
Kayla scrunched up her sweet face. “Mom makes us eat oatmeal.”
“Does she?” He laughed, and the pain evaporated. “It appears from your expression that you do not like oatmeal.”
“Oatmeal’s okay and it’s cheap. That’s why we eat it.”
“Kayla May, you don’t need to bore Mr. King with our family’s financial situation.”
He held the door open and motioned them inside.
A man’s house. Sparse but tidy. Two wooden rockers sat near the wood-burning stove in the middle of the room. A long table with chairs on one side and a bench by the wall divided the kitchen from the living area. A hutch and sideboard sat in the kitchen, a blanket chest and bookshelf in the larger living area.
Blue curtains, just as in the smaller house, were pulled back from the windows, a cloth covered the table, and oil lamps sat on a shelf in the kitchen.
“Sit on the bench, children,” he directed. “Your mother can take the chair across from me.”
“May I help serve the food?” she asked.
“Everyone likes pancakes?” He raised a brow.
Kayla’s eyes widened. “I do.”
“William, what about you?”
He shrugged. “They’re okay.”
“I also scrambled eggs and fried some slices of ham.” Abraham handed Julia a plate. “Give the children as much as they can eat.”
While she put pancakes and a slice of ham on each plate along with a spoonful of scrambled eggs, Abraham poured milk for the children and coffee for the adults.
He held her chair, which she hadn’t expected. How long had it been since anyone had done that for her?
Shaking off the memory of Charlie on one of their first dates, she slid onto the chair and placed her napkin on her lap.
William reached for his fork. She h
eld up her hand, waiting as Abraham sat and bowed his head. Eyeing her son, she nodded for him to follow Abraham’s lead and hoped both children would remember how to give thanks.
Not that God would be listening to Julia’s prayer. Still, she was grateful. Keep us safe, she thought before grabbing a fork and lifting a portion of the sweet and savory pancake into her mouth.
“Breakfast is delicious,” she said between bites.
William, usually a picky eater, gobbled down everything on his plate and asked for more.
Abraham nodded his approval. “You have a good appetite, yah?”
Will wrinkled his brow and chuckled. “Yah.”
Julia frowned at her son. She was grateful Abraham either hadn’t realized or chose to ignore William’s disrespect.
Once they had eaten, she helped Abraham clear the table. “I can wash the dishes. You mentioned having chores to do.”
“The soap is under the sink.” He grabbed a hat hanging on a wall peg. “Come with me, William. We need to feed the neighbor’s livestock.”
The boy hesitated.
“William,” he called again.
Slowly, the boy rose and shuffled to the door.
Abraham grabbed a basket from the sideboard. “Kayla, you can gather eggs.”
“What about Annie?”
He smiled. “Annie should stay inside and help your mother with the dishes.”
Satisfied with the response, Kayla sat the doll on a chair and hurried after Abraham.
“Is gathering eggs like an Easter egg hunt, Mr. Abraham?”
“Perhaps a bit. I will show you.” He motioned the child toward the door and then glanced at Julia. “After Kayla collects the eggs, she will return to the house. Then William and I will go to the farm across the road. Harvey Raber and his sons are delivering the furniture they make to customers who placed orders. The neighbors lend a hand while they are gone.”
Julia glanced quickly around the tidy kitchen and peered into the living area. “Shall I start cleaning?”
“You are a housekeeper in name only, Julia. You and Kayla can return to your house. I am sure you have things to do there.”
She appreciated his thoughtfulness. “I’d like to unpack.”
“Lock the door. If there is a problem, ring the dinner bell. I will hear you.”
In spite of the peaceful setting and Abraham’s attempt to welcome them to farm life, his mention of using a bell if she or Kayla had a problem, made the anxiety Julia had felt in Philadelphia return. She and the children had traveled over a thousand miles to elude the Philadores, yet the truth remained. Frankie Fuentes was a killer, and he was after her son.
* * *
Abraham hurried Kayla to the henhouse while William sat on the porch steps, looking totally uninterested in anything about the farm. From what he had seen so far, the two children seemed to be complete opposites. Kayla embraced life to the full, while William hung back and needed to be coaxed into new endeavors.
Kayla’s eyes were wide with wonder as she stood on tiptoe and peered into one of the nests. She spied an egg and placed it in her basket.
“Don’t the chickens get upset that their eggs are gone?” she asked.
“They will lay more tomorrow, Kayla.” Abraham pointed to the corner of the henhouse. “Check there. I usually find an egg or two hidden under the hay.”
The child’s search proved fruitful and soon she was headed back to the house with a smile of contentment on her pretty face and a basket full of eggs.
“I’ll tell Mama to make something with the eggs like Mrs. Fielding did.”
“Mrs. Fielding?” Abraham asked.
“She lived in an upstairs apartment and used to take care of William and me when Mama had to work.”
“I am sure she was a good woman.”
“Mrs. Fielding told me she was a God-fearing woman. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I told her I didn’t fear God because I loved Him.”
Abraham tried not to smile, but Kayla’s sincerity touched his heart. “Hurry into the house and tell your mother that William and I are going to Mr. Raber’s farm.”
“Can I go with you?”
“Maybe next time.”
She skipped toward the house and stopped on the porch step to wave goodbye.
“Go inside, Kayla,” he called to her.
The child climbed the stairs, knocked and scooted into the house when Julia opened the door. She stood for a long moment in the doorway, staring at him. The breeze pulled at her golden hair. She caught the elusive strands and tugged them back into place before she closed the door again, leaving Abraham with a curious sensation in the pit of his stomach.
He glanced at William, who shuffled along the drive, his head down and shoulders slumped. “You act as if you would rather have stayed with your mother.”
“I would rather have stayed in Philadelphia,” the boy said with a huff. “Besides, I don’t like to get up early.”
“You are tired from your journey?”
The boy nodded. “Tired and bored.”
Abraham chuckled under his breath. With all the chores that needed to be done on the farm, William would not be bored for long.
“Grab that bucket and fill it with feed for the horses in the paddock,” Abraham said when they entered the neighbor’s barn. The bucket was heavy when filled, but William carried it to the trough and then repeated the process.
“Now we will muck the stalls.” Abraham handed the boy a pitchfork and pointed to an empty stall. “Start there.”
From the look on William’s face, Abraham knew he was not happy, but he worked hard, and if he complained, he did so under his breath.
“Next we will lay fresh straw.”
William followed Abraham’s lead and a bed of straw soon covered the floor of the stalls.
“You have done a good job.” Abraham patted the boy’s shoulder. “We will go home and do the same in my barn.”
An almost imperceptible groan escaped Will’s lips. Abraham pretended not to notice and led the way back to the country road that divided the two farms.
Raber’s phone shack sat at the edge of the road. “Wait here, William.”
Abraham opened the door and stepped into the booth. He checked the answering machine to ensure Jonathan had not called and left a message.
“Is that where the Amish keep their phones?” William asked when Abraham joined him again.
“Yah, Mr. Raber takes orders by phone for the furniture he makes. The Ordnung, the rules by which various Amish communities live, forbids phones within the home. Keeping the phone away from the house and near the property line allows Mr. Raber to stay in contact with his customers while also obeying the rule.”
William pointed to the roof. “Are those solar panels?”
Abraham nodded. “They run the answering machine. You know about solar energy?”
William shrugged. “A little.”
“Perhaps you will be an engineer when you get older.”
The boy shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” Abraham asked.
“School’s not cool.”
Abraham would not ask what the boy thought was cool. From what Jonathan had said, William was drawn to the street gangs with their rap music and fast cars and even faster lifestyle. Was that what William thought was cool?
The sound of a car engine drew Abraham’s attention to the road. A souped-up sedan raced over the crest of a distant rise, going much too fast along the narrow country lane.
William stared at the car, no doubt attracted to the gaudy chrome and the heavy bass destroying the peaceful quiet.
“Hide in the phone shack.” Abraham opened the door and nudged William inside.
The car approached. Abraham walked to the curb. The driver stopped and rolled down
the passenger window. “I’m looking for Yoder. Made a few wrong turns, it seems. Can you give me directions?”
“You are headed the right way. The town is about four miles ahead.”
“I’ll need a room. Can you recommend lodging?”
“There is a hotel south of town. At the intersection of Main and High, turn left. The hotel sits about five blocks south on the left.” Abraham stepped closer. “You are not from this area.”
“I was in Kansas City on business and had a few days off so I decided to explore this part of the state. My hobby is writing articles for travel magazines. A story on Yoder and the Amish people might sell. If you have time, we could schedule an interview.”
The last thing Abraham wanted was publicity about Yoder or his Amish neighbors. “Not much is going on around here. You might find more tourist attractions in Hutchison. They have an Amish community there.”
“I’ll check it out. Thanks for the information about the hotel.” The man handed a business card to Abraham. “You know where to find me for the next few days in case you have time for a cup of coffee, or we could talk over lunch.”
The driver waved and drove away.
Abraham made a mental note of the license plate before he opened the door to the phone booth. His heart stopped. William stood with the phone to his ear. His eyes widened and his face flushed. He dropped the receiver onto the cradle and lowered his gaze.
“Who did you call?”
The boy shook his head. “No one.”
“I will ask you once more, William. Who did you call?”
“I... I thought about calling a friend of mine from Philly.”
“What is his name?”
“David.”
“His full name.”
“David Davila.”
“Did the call connect?”
Will shook his head. “No way. There wasn’t time.”
“Did you call your friend from the hotel in Philadelphia?”
The boy’s face reddened.
“What did you tell David?”
“Only that we were moving, but I didn’t tell him where.”
“Did you mention Kansas?”
“I just said we were leaving the city.”
