by Debby Giusti
“You are quick to rationalize behavior about which I have not spoken.”
Gathering courage from deep within, she refused to lower her gaze. “I will leave as soon as possible,” she said through tight lips. “But I need my clothing and my phone. I also need transportation to Willkommen. As I mentioned earlier, I presume there is a bus that will take me to Atlanta.”
“Yah.” He nodded. “The bus runs at the end of the week.”
“Do you know the schedule?”
He shook his head. “But you can check when we are in town.”
“If you drop me at the bus station, I can—”
What would she do without money? Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her purse, although she kept an emergency stash of fifty-dollar bills in the glove compartment of her car. Hopefully the police wouldn’t flip through the pages of the vehicle maintenance book where she had hid the money.
Abram was staring at her.
“I’ll be safe with my sister, Hannah, in Atlanta,” she said, trying to pick up her train of thought.
“The person you hoped to call with your phone?”
Miriam nodded. “That’s right.”
“Still you do not remember her phone number?”
“The number is programmed in the contacts on my phone,” Miriam explained. “I told you all this earlier.”
He raised a brow. “Yet you told me nothing about your mother.”
She took a step back. “My mother?”
Miriam’s cheeks burned. She didn’t need a mirror to realize how hot and flushed she must look.
Abram pointed to the kitchen table. “It is time we talk freely.”
He indicated the bench where he wanted her to sit. She lowered herself onto the long wooden seat and remained silent as he sat across from her.
The table was smooth as silk and gleamed with shellac or polish or a mix of both. She glanced at his large hands, noting the scrapes and calluses, realizing he had probably made the table.
Serpent’s hands were soft with short, pudgy fingers. What he lacked in size, he made up for with brute force.
She cringed, remembering the strike to her forehead and the jab to her ribs. Without thinking, she touched the tender spot at the side of her brow.
Abram’s eyes followed her hand. “Who hurt you?”
She could no longer hide the truth. “A policeman who has a serpent tattooed on his neck.”
“You stayed with him?”
“Not willingly.”
Abram flattened his palms on the table. “Why do you hesitate telling me your story?”
“My story?” Did he think this was make-believe?
“What happened, Miriam? Why were you with him? Why do you have bruises on your wrists?”
Unwilling to relive the experience, she started to rise. Abram caught her hand. His touch was firm, yet gentle, and his gaze was filled with understanding.
She stared at him for a long moment, searching for any sign of aggression. All she saw was compassion and a concern for her well-being.
Pulling in a ragged breath, she lowered herself onto the bench. She had nowhere else to turn and no one, other than this Amish man, to help her. She would have to trust him with her story, as he called it. He had taken her in and he deserved to know the truth about what had happened on the mountain.
Her mouth was dry, her throat tight. She pulled her hand free from his hold and toyed with her fingers, weighing how to begin.
“I... I lived in Tennessee with my mother and younger sister, Sarah. My older sister moved to Atlanta a few years ago.”
“Hannah?” he asked.
“That’s right. She’s two years older than I am.” Miriam paused, struggling for a way to explain the reality of her life. “Our mother was a free spirit of sorts.”
She glanced at Abram. “Do you understand that term?”
The faintest hint of a smile curled his full lips. “Although the Amish end their formal education at the eighth grade, there is much that can be learned outside the schoolhouse.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t educated. I just wasn’t sure if you had heard of the expression.”
“You said your mother was a free spirit.” He brought her back to the subject at hand.
Miriam wiped her fingers over the tabletop, wishing her life had been as smooth. “Mother carted us across the United States. We rarely stayed for more than a few months in any one place.”
Thinking back to her youth, Miriam shook her head. “We were pulled out of so many schools. We longed for a normal life. We had anything but stability, living with our mother.”
“How did you get to Tennessee?”
“Friends invited Mother to visit. They had a small home for rent outside of Knoxville, and we moved in. Not long after that she started showing signs of dementia. I took her to a local doctor who diagnosed her with early onset Alzheimer’s. You’re aware of the condition?”
Abram nodded. “I am.”
“Her mind slowly deteriorated.”
“Yet you brought her to Georgia?” he asked.
“Which is what she wanted, although in hindsight we never should have left Knoxville.”
“But you always did what your mother wanted.”
“Which now sounds foolish and immature.” She hung her head, thinking of the real reason she had agreed to travel to Georgia. Abram didn’t need to know her motives. She’d made a horrific mistake, one that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
“A few months ago,” Miriam continued, “Mother started talking about an estranged sister with whom she hoped to reconnect.”
“This is the aunt who lives in Willkommen?”
Nodding, Miriam added, “Annie Miller is her name, although I’m not sure where she lives or if she even exists. Mother became insistent that she needed to see her sister. Prior to that, she had never talked about her family or siblings, and we never brought up the subject.”
A sigh escaped Miriam’s lips. “Knowing it was a subject she didn’t want to talk about kept us from asking questions. We knew her parents had died and that she’d rejected their faith.”
Abram’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Your mother did not believe in Gott?”
“She believed there was a God, she just didn’t believe she needed Him in her life. Or that we needed Him. We lived near San Antonio for a period of time and visited a few of the missions. I saw something there that I wanted in my own life. A love of God. An ability to turn to Him in times of need. A belief in His goodness and mercy.”
“Did you tell your mother how you felt?” Abram asked.
“I tried. She became agitated and insisted I was being foolish. We moved not long after that.”
“Which made you even more hesitant to discuss faith.”
Miriam’s heart warmed. “That’s it exactly. To maintain peace and some semblance of family stability, we skirted any mention of the Lord.”
“And now?” He raised his brow.
She was puzzled by his question. “I don’t understand.”
“How do you feel about Gott now?”
“I...” She tried to identify her feelings. “I’m not sure. I started attending a church in Tennessee when Mother’s condition grew worse. I was searching, maybe reaching out for help. The people were welcoming, but I struggled to accept the fullness of their faith in God. Perhaps I had pushed Him aside too many times.”
Turning her gaze to the window, she could see the horses grazing on the hillside. “I doubt the Lord would have interest in a woman who grew up fearing to mention His name.”
“You were young, Miriam. You had no one to teach you or lead you to faith. Besides, Gott would not hold you accountable for the actions of your mother.”
“I don’t know if that’s true, Abram. I worked in a local craft shop and tried to earn enough money to pay the rent and put food on the table. I didn’t need to compound my struggle with issues of faith.”
She offered him a weak smile. “We’ve gotten off topic. You wanted to know about Serpent.”
Painful though it was to give voice to the flashes of clarity that circled through her mind, she slowly and methodically explained, as best she could, the middle-of-the-night traffic stop that turned tragic.
“I was driving. It was late and the mountain roads confused me. Seeing the police lights in my rearview mirror brought relief, until I saw the serpent tattoo on the neck of the so-called officer. He made me leave the car. My mother became agitated. She lunged from the back seat, screaming, and rushed at him with raised fists. A second guy remained inside the police vehicle. I had the feeling he was in charge and that Serpent was doing his bidding.”
“Can you describe him?”
“I wish I could. The flashing light on the roof of the car blinded me. When my mother went after Serpent, the other guy stepped to the pavement and turned his weapon on her. He fired once, twice. I didn’t see his face. All I saw was my mother’s blood.”
Hot tears burned her eyes. “I... I don’t know what happened after that. Sarah was still in the car. I struggled to get to her. Serpent struck me and knocked me out. I never saw my mother again.”
The tight expression that washed over Abram’s face chilled her. “What have you learned?” she demanded, anticipating the answer before he spoke.
He took her hand. “The police found an older woman’s body in the trunk of your car.”
Miriam dropped her head and moaned. She had feared her mother was dead, but hearing the words spoken was like a knife piercing her heart.
Abram circled the table and slid next to her on the bench. His muscular arms wrapped around her and pulled her into his embrace.
For so many years she had longed for strong shoulders to support her. Never had she suspected comfort would come from an Amish man whose upbringing and background were so totally different from hers.
She buried her head against his chest and cried heart-wrenching sobs for all that had happened. For the trip to Georgia that had ended in tragedy. For Sarah, who had been taken and might never be found again. And for the horrific murder of the mother Miriam had loved so much, who had never loved her in return.
* * *
“I will not let this man hurt you again,” Abram whispered as he gathered Miriam deeper into his embrace.
As much as he wanted her to remain there, she eventually pulled back. Her face was blotched with tears, but even then he saw her determination to muster on.
She sniffed and wiped her hands over her cheeks. “There’s more to tell, Abram.”
He relaxed his hold on her, knowing she needed space.
She dabbed at her eyes and bit her lip. Then, playing her fingers over the smooth finish of the table, she drew in series of jagged breaths and straightened her spine as if gathering courage and finding the wherewithal to continue.
“Serpent—” Her voice was raspy and little more than a whisper when she finally spoke. “Serpent took my sister and me to a cabin. I heard water. We could have been near the river. He tied each of us up in different rooms. I was worried about Sarah, but no matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t get free.”
She swallowed hard. “I... I pretended to be asleep when he checked on me. When light filtered through the window the next morning, he forced me to swallow a pill. I spit it out, but he struck me and said he would kill Sarah if I didn’t take the drug. I pretended to do so and then coughed it up when he left the room. The next time, I wasn’t as lucky. He clamped my jaw closed until the pill dissolved in my mouth.”
Abram could only imagine the terror both Miriam and her sister had experienced. A rage against the two men grew within him.
“Days passed in a blur,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “I heard snippets of conversations. Some on the phone... One night a guy with a deep voice stopped by. I overheard just a portion of what they said. They kept mentioning trafficking and women. The night I escaped, another man came to the cabin. I saw him through the window. He was tall and skinny with red hair. He hauled Sarah away and Serpent said he was going to dispose of her.”
Abram took her hand and was relieved when she squeezed his fingers.
“When Serpent came to give me more drugs, I didn’t respond. He probably thought I was still sedated. Later, after what seemed like hours, I broke free from the rope that had held me. He had become complacent and had forgotten to attach the cord to the bedposts. I slipped outside and found the key to my car on the floorboards. He must have heard the engine start because he ran from the cabin before I pulled onto the main road.”
“But you escaped, Miriam.”
She nodded. “I was crazy with fear and so tired. I hid in the woods, but he found me and chased me. One of my tires had a blowout and my car almost ended up in the river. Somehow I got out and started running. Then I saw the light in your window.”
“Gott led you here.”
“I... I was worried when I saw you talking to the sheriff. Serpent said he would pin my mother’s death on me. He said all the cops in this area were working together with him. He said they would believe his story.”
“What he claimed has proven true, Miriam. Curtis Idler, the Willkommen deputy, said the police are searching for you. They suspect you killed your mother. Yet I do not understand how they could believe such an evil man with the serpent on his neck. He cannot be an officer of the law.”
“But his car had a flashing light and a sign that read Petersville Police Department.”
“The chief of police in Petersville is not to be trusted, so perhaps this Serpent, as you call him, is working with law enforcement, after all. I know my uncle will help you.”
“Then I must tell him what happened.”
Abram shook his head. “Samuel is traveling to Atlanta and will be gone for three days.”
“I can’t wait that long.” Miriam’s voice was insistent. “Serpent needs to be stopped now, before he hurts anyone else.”
Emma hurried into the kitchen and stared at both of them. “Forgive me. I thought you had finished talking.”
“You are right, my sister. We have finished our conversation.” Abram released hold of Miriam’s hand and stood. “Tomorrow we will go to Willkommen.”
“But—”
“Tomorrow, Miriam. Until then, you will stay with Emma and me.”
FIVE
Miriam shook her head with frustration as she thought about what terrible things could have befallen her sister. She needed to find Sarah as quickly as possible.
“You are upset with my brother,” Emma said, drawing close. She placed a comforting hand on Miriam’s shoulder. “He is worried about your well-being.”
“Did you hear that the Petersville police suspect me of killing my own mother?”
Emma nodded and pointed to the small holes drilled through the ceiling. “The heat from the stove rises to warm the bedrooms. Abram’s voice travels, as well. I tried not to listen, but I could not help but overhear what he said to you.”
Miriam gazed into Emma’s blue eyes, not nearly as crystal clear as her brother’s but bright and filled with understanding. “How could they think I would do that? There is no evidence.”
“Except this man who held you captive. You do not know the lies he has told.”
Pulling in a ragged breath, Miriam fought the tears that welled up. She wiped her hand over her face and struggled to control her upset. “I’m usually not this fragile.”
Emma raised her chin and smiled. “I see strength when I look at you, Miriam. Not weakness. That is why you and Abram butt together. He is not used
to a woman who speaks her mind.”
“Am I that demanding?” she asked.
“Demanding is not the word I would use. You see things one way. Abram sees them another way. Soon, you will learn to work together.”
“We could work together if he would take me to Willkommen.”
“But what good would it do if the Petersville police arrest you?”
Emma patted Miriam’s shoulder.
“Those who want to do you harm and those who suspect you of a crime would not think to find you here,” the Amish woman continued. “You must remain hidden from view. Abram is a man of his word. Tomorrow, he will take you to Willkommen.”
The clip-clop of a horse’s hooves sent both women to peer out the window. Emma grabbed Miriam’s hand when Abram appeared, guiding the horse and buggy to the back porch. “It seems my brother has changed his mind.”
Miriam squeezed Emma’s hand and then opened the door before Abram climbed the stairs to the back porch.
“We’re going to town?” she asked, her heart overflowing with gratitude.
“Yah. Nellie is hitched and waiting. We will talk to Samuel’s deputy, Curtis Idler. If my uncle left him in charge, then we can trust him.”
“You both must be careful,” Emma cautioned. “What if this Serpent is prowling about?”
“Hopefully he won’t look for a woman in Amish clothing,” Miriam said.
“Wear my bonnet.” Emma pulled the wide-brimmed hat from the wall peg. The shape reminded Miriam of what pioneer women wore to the keep the sun off their faces.
“We must hurry.” Abram removed the black cape from a second peg and wrapped the heavy wool around Miriam’s shoulders. Emma helped tie the bonnet under her chin.
“There is a blanket in the buggy if you are cold.” He opened the door wider. “We will leave now.”
Miriam’s heart raced, knowing she could be in danger. At least Abram would be with her.
He helped her into the buggy. “Sit in the rear,” he suggested. “You will be out of sight there.”
She crawled onto the second seat and nodded to Emma as the horse started on the journey to town.
