by Debby Giusti
Frustrated by the dead end he seemed to be facing, Abram rose from bed, slipped on his trousers and went to the window to study the night sky. The stars twinkled, causing him a moment of melancholy. Rebecca always said the stars were a sign from those who had gone before as well as a visible sign of Gott’s love.
Rebecca had said many things that were not what the Amish believed, but Abram had not countered her thoughts. Tonight he wished she would tell him what to do.
A dog barked in the distance. Abram stared into the night. Something caught his gaze.
Movement?
His neck tensed. A fox stalking one of his chickens? Or something more sinister? Hopefully not the man with a serpent tattoo on his neck.
Abram left his bedroom and quietly walked downstairs and into the kitchen. There he stared out the window at where he had earlier seen movement.
Opening the back door, he slipped onto the porch and breathed in the cold night air. His gaze darted to the chicken coup and the shop, then the barn and woodshed as if daring Serpent to make a move.
Standing deathly still, Abram strained to make out the various sounds of the night. An owl hooted. A rodent scurried through the underbrush. Again, a dog barked in the distance. Abram stared into the night for a long time until the prickling in his neck eased. He saw no other movement and only heard familiar sounds he recognized.
Turning, he stepped back into the kitchen.
“He was out there?”
Miriam stood in the middle of the kitchen with a lap blanket around her shoulders, her hair hanging free.
He closed and locked the door behind him.
“I wanted fresh air,” he said, hoping the excuse sounded plausible.
“I don’t believe you, Abram. You heard something.”
He shrugged. “I saw movement, but that does not mean I did not need fresh air as well.”
“Was it Serpent?”
“I saw nothing more than a movement that could have been a fox or coyote. Even a raccoon. I doubt Serpent could remain quiet for as long as I stood on the porch. You need not worry tonight. You are safe.”
“Thank you.”
“For listening to the night?” he asked.
“For protecting me. I’ve never had anyone care about my well-being.”
“Perhaps not your mother, but what of your father?”
“I never knew my father, and my mother thought more about herself than her children.”
Abram heard the hurt in her voice that could not be feigned.
“I am sorry, Miriam. A father provides love and support for his children. You missed that growing up.”
“I missed a lot of things that you have here.”
Abram stepped closer. “You mean the farm and the picturesque landscape?”
“I mean working with your hands and turning off the world. You’re not bombarded with messages and phone calls.”
“Yet I have few of the things you are used to in your life.”
She nodded and then stepped closer. “But do they matter?”
He touched her hair, feeling its silky softness.
Moonlight drifted through the window, spotlighting her in its glow. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her lips, full and soft, parted ever so slightly. She tipped her head.
More than anything, he longed to lower his lips to hers and drink in the softness of her skin and the heady smell of her. For one long moment Abram’s stable life titled off-kilter and all he could think of was how much he wanted to kiss her.
Suddenly her eyes flew open and she drew back with a gasp. “I’m sorry.”
Without offering an explanation, she turned and ran up the stairs, leaving him alone in the dark kitchen.
What was wrong with him? He never should have drawn so close to her or allowed himself such thoughts. A more righteous man would have told her to return to her room and not to worry about Serpent. Instead he had thought only of himself and his own wishes.
What did Miriam need?
She didn’t need an Amish man who could only offer her hard work and little worldly recompense. He had withstood the pain of Rebecca’s passing, but he could not endure seeing Miriam hurt.
Her needs came first.
Not his.
* * *
Abram’s almost kiss rocked Miriam’s world. All she could think of was how his lips would have felt brushed against hers as he pulled her into his arms and held her tight.
Then she’d opened her eyes, not knowing where she was or what she was supposed to do next. So she’d done the only thing that came to mind, the very thing her mother had always done when people started to get too close. Miriam fled upstairs to the protection of the guest room.
Standing with her back to the closed door, she dropped her head into her hands, expecting her heart to explode in her chest.
The near kiss had changed everything. Or had it?
The realization hit hard.
Abram hadn’t been thinking of her. He had been thinking of kissing his wife.
Miriam had acted like a fickle schoolgirl. He wasn’t interested in her. Why couldn’t she remember that she was wearing Rebecca’s clothing? The kitchen had been dark, which was even more reason for him to think of her as someone else.
She crawled into bed then jammed her fist into the pillow as she turned onto her side. Hot tears burned her eyes. Rebecca had been a lucky woman to have a strong and determined man like Abram love her so completely that even three years after her death he was still longing for his wife. Miriam felt like a fool. She would never make that mistake again.
Eventually she fell asleep only to dream about a tall Amish man who kept running from her. Why wouldn’t he stop so she could talk to him? Then she saw why he kept moving forward. He was running toward a woman in the distance.
The woman glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled.
He called her name but she wouldn’t stop. He called to her again and again.
The name he called out was Rebecca.
Even in her dreams, Abram was running after his deceased wife.
TEN
Miriam woke with a start. She glanced at the window and groaned, seeing the gray morning sky through the window. Why had she slept so late today of all days? She had planned to rise before sunup and leave the house at the first light of dawn. Abram was probably already up and he was the last person she wanted to run into today.
After rising from bed she quickly straightened the covers and arranged the quilt before she dressed, again in Amish garb. She was getting the hang of using straight pins to fasten the fabric and felt comfortable in the calf-length cotton just as she felt comfortable in this Amish home. Drawing in a deep breath, she opened the bedroom door and tiptoed down the stairs.
On the last step she hesitated, hearing sounds from the kitchen—the scrape of a cast-iron skillet on the stove followed by the clink of glasses and the clatter of plates.
Emma was preparing breakfast and the smell of fresh-baked biscuits wafted through the house and made Miriam’s mouth water. As much as she would have enjoyed the hearty meal, Miriam needed to leave without being noticed lest Emma convince her to stay.
And Abram? Would he be relieved to have her gone?
She couldn’t think about Abram with his crystal-blue eyes and full lips. She had to think about Hannah. Her sister would come to her rescue and take her to Atlanta. Surely law enforcement in the city would begin an investigation into her mother’s death and Sarah’s disappearance.
Miriam crossed the main room and carefully opened the front door. The hinge creaked. Her breath caught. She stopped and listened, then let out a shallow sigh as the oven banged open and a metal baking pan dropped onto the top of the stove.
Grateful her departure hadn’t been noti
ced, Miriam slipped outside and pulled the black cape around her shoulders. She glanced at the mountain, relieved that no cars were in sight, and then scurried down the steps and across the front yard to the road that passed in front of Abram’s house, the road that would take her to the Rogers’s farm.
Glancing back, she looked for some sign of Abram. All she saw was the cluster of trees that blocked her view of the barn where he was probably tending to the horses. With a heavy heart, she started to run, not knowing what she would find on the road ahead. Emma had mentioned a broken bridge that was still accessible. Miriam didn’t like heights and her family had never stayed anywhere long enough for her to learn to swim. If only the bridge would be sturdy enough to allow her to cross safely.
She couldn’t dwell on the danger. Instead she needed to focus on accessing the internet so she could email Hannah.
A lump thickened her throat as she ran. She wouldn’t see Abram again. He would go on with his farm while she made a new life for herself in Atlanta.
After the peace of the countryside, she wasn’t sure city life would be to her liking. At least she would be free of Serpent and safe in Atlanta.
Yet she had felt safe with Abram, as well.
Safe from Serpent but not safe to guard her heart. Her heart was in danger with Abram, which was a different kind of problem.
If only Abram had seen who Miriam truly was instead of seeing only the dress and apron that reminded him of his wife.
* * *
Abram sensed that something was amiss.
Leaving Nellie’s stall, he stared through the open breezeway, his gaze flicking across the pasture as he listened for the squawk of chickens or the neigh of one of the horses grazing in the distant pasture.
What had caused his unrest?
The kitchen door opened and Emma motioned him to the house. The thought of biscuits, sliced ham, eggs and corn mush whet his always eager appetite. An even more alluring thought was sitting across from Miriam.
He waved to Emma in response to her call then returned to the barn to add more water to the horses’ troughs.
Bear rose from his bed of straw, stretched and padded forward to stand by his empty bowl.
“I haven’t forgotten you.” Abram poured kibble into the dog’s dish and then sighed seeing the gray that tangled through Bear’s once golden coat. “What happened to my watchdog? The years have passed too quickly. You are a faithful companion, but you have become fat and lazy in your old age.”
Bear titled his head as if hearing the concern in his master’s voice.
“We have a serpent on the loose and both of us must be on guard.” Abram patted the dog’s head then returned the bag of food to the storage room and hurried to the water pump.
After washing his hands, Abram entered the house, inhaling the savory aroma of biscuits and fried eggs and bacon. He glanced at the empty table.
“Our guest has not risen?” he asked his sister.
“She was tired last night, although I thought the smell of breakfast would wake her.”
The rumble of a car engine sent Abram to the front of the house. He peered out the window.
Serpent’s black sedan headed up the hill. Not who Abram wanted to see, not this early, not ever. The man should stay in Petersville and never set foot in Willkommen or the surrounding area, if Abram had his way.
“Who is it?” his sister called from the kitchen.
“The man with the tattoo who searches for Miriam.”
Emma entered the living area and moved toward the window. “That one is an evil man.”
“Perhaps. But we will let Gott read his heart.”
“Now you are not worried about him?”
“I did not say that. But we cannot judge.”
“I can voice my opinion.”
Abram had to smile. Although petite and slender, Emma sometimes spoke her mind and if something troubled her, she would not be still.
“I must check on Miriam.” Emma started up the stairs. “She needs to be warned that the Serpent is in the area.”
Abram returned his gaze to the window. Serpent’s car had disappeared around the bend in the road. Where was he going and when would he return?
Stepping onto the porch, Abram listened to the silence, hoping it would last. Emma’s cry cut through the quiet and sent Abram’s heart racing. He ran inside and met her at the foot of the stairway.
His sister’s eyes were lined with worry. “Miriam is not in her room.”
“She washed her clothes last night. Perhaps she is gathering them off the line.” Abram hurried to the kitchen. “I will find her.”
“I’m afraid she’s gone.” Emma’s words followed Abram out the door. He raced to the barn.
“Miriam?” he called as he passed Bear and the horse stalls and headed to the rear doorway.
Her clothes hung on a line behind the barn, protected from the wandering eye of any person who traveled along the roadway. Emma had been particular about where she hung clothing to dry. With Serpent on the prowl, Abram was grateful for the secluded clothesline.
But at the moment, he was more interested in finding Miriam than where she had hung her clothing. He flicked his gaze left and right. His stomach roiled, realizing Emma’s statement was true. Miriam was gone.
Quickly he hitched Nellie to the buggy. Emma met him outside the barn.
“Miriam asked me about any Englisch neighbors who might have a computer she could use to contact her sister. I told her about the Rogers.”
“She mentioned them to me, as well.” Worry tangled Abram’s heart. “If she took the fork in the road, Serpent would have seen her. He could have captured her by now.”
Emma shook her head. “I told her the road to the bridge is the fastest route.”
“But the bridge is out.”
“Only partially. A person on foot could traverse the crossing without problem.”
“Unless the rotten wood gives way. I’m going there.”
“She wants to contact her sister, Abram.”
He nodded. “Perhaps that is so, but she is in danger with Serpent nearby.”
The sound of a car downshifting turned Abram’s gaze to the mountain. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of lights on the roof of a black sedan.
Although he could not see the driver from this distance, he knew who was at the wheel. The realization made his blood boil.
The man with the serpent tattoo.
He was coming for Miriam.
ELEVEN
Miriam didn’t like heights and she didn’t like rushing water, both of which she had to face if she were to pass over the river and continue on to the Rogers’s farm.
Gazing over the side of the bridge’s broken guardrail made her stomach woozy as she peered at the rain-swollen water below. Sharp gusts of wind rushed across the surface of the river, forming froth and white caps.
She shivered from the cold that seeped through her cape and also from fear as she gazed into the turbulence below. Emma had said the bridge was navigable. Miriam wasn’t so sure.
Two sections of the bridge platform were still standing, but the guardrails had collapsed and the entire structure appeared rickety at best.
The sound of water rushing over the rocks was as ominous as the gray skies overhead and the gathering storm clouds. The morning had started out clear and had given her hope. Now, peering at the dark clouds above and the even darker water below, her hopes were dashed. She had been foolish to leave the security of Abram’s home. Walking four miles wasn’t the problem, but crossing over the water on a dilapidated bridge was. The wood creaked as an even more forceful gust of wind swirled from the west.
Miriam glanced over her shoulder, longing to see Abram’s farmhouse in the far distance, but the thick woods and r
olling hills obscured it from sight. Fisting her hands, she fought for resolve. She couldn’t rely on the protective Amish man. She had to forge on, quite literally.
Pulling in a determined breath, she mustered her courage and took a step forward. Through the broken slats, she saw the churning water. The downward drop-off caused her head to swim. She reached for a still-attached portion of the handrail and gasped when it broke under her hold. The rotten wood crashed onto the rocks below.
Her heart pounded and fear gripped her throat.
Arching her back, she raised her arms in a frantic attempt to maintain her balance.
You’ll fall to your death. The warning came from within. The internal threat sent another chill to tangle along her spine and manifest in outward shivering that sucked the air from her lungs and left her gasping.
Above the roar of the water she heard a rhythmic cadence. Not a car but the clip-clop of a horse’s hooves.
“Miriam?”
Recognizing Abram’s voice, she steeled her resolve to keep moving forward. Cautiously, she took another step and then another.
Abram had come to stop her, yet he wasn’t thinking of her own good. He was thinking of the other woman who had worn this dress. The woman he longed for Miriam to be.
“Kommst du hier.” The guttural inflection of his voice sounded as ominous as the raging river. He was angry with her for leaving without saying goodbye.
He raised his voice. “Come here, Miriam. The bridge is weak. Crossing is too dangerous.”
She waved a hand in the air, hoping he wouldn’t follow her. She needed to be free of Abram. Free to find the Rogers’ farm and use their computer. Technology she needed, even if Abram rejected the modern conveniences of the world.
“Turn around. Get in the buggy.”
More demands that didn’t take into consideration her plight.
“Go home, Abram. Tend to your farm. Live in the past with your memories.”
“I live each day in the present, Miriam. But I live wisely, putting my faith in Gott.”
