Amish Refuge

by Debby Giusti

  Now Miriam wondered if she had been too hard on her mother. A single mom with no consistent employment. She couldn’t remember her mother taking food stamps or welfare, yet they’d had food and clothing. Thrift-shop purchases and beans and rice more days than she’d like to remember, but food and clothing nonetheless.

  “Did you ever believe something and then find out you were totally wrong?” she asked Abram.

  He remained silent for a long moment. A muscle in his neck twitched. She longed to see his face to read his expression. The back of his head with his hat pulled low provided no clue as to what he was thinking.

  Once again she had been too forward and wished she could retract her question. Better to remain silent than to cause more problems. If only she could have boarded a bus today. But how could she find Hannah if she couldn’t contact her by phone or email?

  A sadness overwhelmed her and she hung her head.

  Abram turned his head slightly. “You are crying again?”

  His words sounded like an accusation.

  She bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m tired, that’s all.”

  “You are worried about what will happen.”

  He was right but she refused to answer him. She had already said too much.

  “And, yes,” he continued, “I have believed wrongly and regretted my actions.”

  Was he talking about taking her into his house? She should have kept running that night and never stopped. But that would have been even more foolish when she’d needed a place of refuge.

  “I’m sorry for disrupting your life, Abram.” Especially since he had wanted to find lodging for her in Willkommen. Abram didn’t want her underfoot. Not now. Not ever.

  He shook his head. “You have brought new life to my house, Miriam. You are not a problem. I am the problem. I have held on too tightly to the past. You may have heard Emma say this. She is right. The old ways must sometimes change. The Amish who came to Willkommen did so with the intention of making new rules in which to grow as a community. I could not accept the changes so I have never fit in. It was not their outreach, but my stubborn pride.”

  “You have the right to follow the ways of the past.”

  “My wife died because of my unbending pride. I lost a child, as well. This is not easy to carry. Some would say it was Gott’s will, but I say it was my stubborn heart that had to be right about everything. That is the burden I carry.”

  “The church I attended in Tennessee talked about God’s forgiveness. We have to be contrite and realize we have done wrong. We also have to desire to change our ways, but if we long to be a better person, the Lord is a forgiving Father.”

  “Ach! But, Miriam, Gott is not the problem. My earthly father is. He would never forgive me.”

  She didn’t understand. “Why would your father be upset that you remained close to the way he raised you?”

  “In my youth, I erred.”

  “When you were a boy? Could he not forgive a child for making a mistake?”

  “I was headstrong and struggled against the rules he established. I did not want to plow the field and wanted instead to go into town to see my friends, Englisch boys, who pulled me into worldly ways. Because I was angry, I hurried the horses and plowed the field too fast. At the corner when I was making a turn, I did not hear Emma’s voice. In her kindness, she was bringing me water since the day was hot. I had borrowed a small battery-operated radio from Trevor, my Englisch friend, and had the music playing, so I did not hear her call my name.”

  Abram swallowed hard. “The plow caught her leg. I never heard her screams. My father ran to gather her in his arms. He raised his fist in anger at me and said I was not worthy to be his son.”

  “Oh, Abram, he spoke in haste and he was worried about Emma.”

  “He never looked me in the eye again. He acted as if I did not exist.”

  “Did you ask his forgiveness?”

  “I was confused and did more things to upset him. Trevor was older. He had a car. We rode to the lake, but the road was windy and we were going much too fast.”

  Emma had told her about the drowning, but Miriam knew Abram needed to recount the experience himself.

  “At a sharp turn, the car skidded across the road and crashed into the water. I managed to get out.”

  “And your friend?”

  “He was trapped. I tried to save him.”

  Miriam touched Abram’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “That is why I left Ethridge after Rebecca and I were married. I needed to prove myself.”

  “And you proved yourself by adhering to the Old Order.”

  “That is right. I am the reason Emma limps, yet she came to live with me after Rebecca died, knowing I needed help. Emma’s heart does not harbor resentment. She has forgiven me, but I cannot forgive myself.”

  “Have you asked your father’s forgiveness?”

  Abram shook his head. “It would not change the way he feels or acts toward me.”

  “And what of God? Have you asked His forgiveness?”

  “He knows my heart.”

  “But acknowledging our wrongdoings and verbalizing our contrition aloud can be cathartic, Abram.”

  “Now you are sounding like the bishop.” Abram shook his head. “Gott took Rebecca from me because of my willfulness as a young man. I did not deserve happiness after what I did to Emma and what happened at the lake.”

  “You’re wrong, Abram. God didn’t take Rebecca or your child because of the mistakes you made in your youth. Death is part of life. Sometimes we don’t understand why it comes when it does, especially when the person is young and has their life ahead of them.”

  “What of you, Miriam? You spoke of your own actions and feelings that you have done wrong. Have you asked God’s forgiveness?”

  Abram was right. She hadn’t sought forgiveness. She hadn’t put the pieces together to see clearly the part she played in her own mother’s wayward life.

  “I never thought my mother loved me. Now I realize I might have been wrong.”

  “Can a mother ignore her child?”

  “It seemed that mine had, but I was seeing life through my own childish eyes instead of taking into consideration her own struggle. I’m beginning to look at my youth in a new way.”

  For so long she had buried the pain of her past in the depths of her heart. Once free from Serpent, then and only then, would she work on forgiveness. By that time, she would have forgotten Abram.

  Inwardly she scoffed at herself. Staring at the tall expanse of man as he held the reins lightly in his strong hands, she knew she’d never forget him. She would carry the memory of Abram in her heart for the rest of her life.

  The Amish way of life and especially this righteous man who didn’t see the good in who he was would remain forever a part of her. She would remember this special time, not because of Serpent and his wicked ways, but because of Abram.

  Hopefully, his decision to notify the sheriff wouldn’t cause her more duress. Too much had already happened. She didn’t need any more trauma in her life. She needed peace and security, like what she had felt in Abram’s arms. But that was in the past. And now Miriam needed to focus on the future.

  * * *

  Tires squealed and an engine whined as a vehicle left Willkommen and raced toward the buggy at breakneck speed. Abram clutched the reins more tightly and silently prayed for Nellie to remain calm, knowing anything could spook the horse when the car passed by.

  Miriam leaned forward and grabbed Abram’s arm. “What’s happening?”

  He peered around the corner of the buggy. His stomach soured, seeing the auxiliary police car with the portable flashing lights.

  The car increased its speed even more and headed straight toward them.

  “What
is it, Abram?” she asked again.

  The buggy jostled from side to side.

  “Sit back and hold on,” he warned.

  “It’s Serpent, isn’t it?”

  “I...I cannot be sure. He will soon pass us by.”

  Nellie fought against the bit. “Whoa there, girl,” he soothed, trying to guide the mare to the side of the road.

  The horse’s ears twitched. Abram saw her flared nostrils and the whites of her eyes. “Quiet down, Nellie girl. Everything is okay.”

  Except everything was wrong. The Serpent was gaining on them. Yet he was supposed to have been taken into custody.

  The engine of his car whined. The black sedan passed in a swirl of dust then screeched to a stop in the middle of the road.

  Abram tugged on the reins, working to control the mare.

  “I thought Ned Quigley was going to apprehend Serpent.” Miriam’s voice was tight with emotion.

  “He must have gotten away.”

  “Or your uncle was lying.”

  “Get behind the seat, Miriam. Hide under the tarp.”

  “It’s too late. He’s knows I’m with you.”

  “He knows no such thing. Do as I say.”

  “But—”

  “Now, before he steps from his car.”

  She scurried into the rear and dove under the tarp.

  Abram climbed out of the buggy. “Nice girl,” he soothed, rubbing Nellie’s flank then her neck.

  The mare was as confused as Abram. What had happened to Deputy Quigley and why was Serpent on the loose?

  Abram narrowed his gaze as the driver’s door of the black sedan opened. Serpent stepped to the pavement but left the motor running and the lights continuing to flash.

  “You’re leaving town in a hurry,” the man growled.

  Abram stood his ground. “Move your vehicle so I can pass.”

  “No way, Zook.” Serpent stepped closer. “You’ve got something I need in your buggy.”

  “I know of nothing in my buggy that would interest you.” He paused a moment and then pulled his lips into a strained smile. “Unless you want to buy an apple pie.”

  “Don’t make jokes, Amish boy. I know Miriam Miller is with you.”

  Abram did not like Serpent’s comment or his tone, and he certainly did not like being called an Amish boy. But his main concern was Miriam’s safety. No matter what Serpent tried, Abram had to keep her safe.

  “The sheriff wants to talk to you, Pearson.”

  “Sheriff Kurtz?” Serpent’s eyes widened. “I saw him earlier today.”

  “He wants to talk to you about something that happened a few nights ago,” Abram continued. “Deputy Quigley was supposed to have hauled you in for questioning about a car you stopped on the mountain road.”

  “You’re talking crazy, Zook, as crazy as your Amish ways.”

  Abram refused to be intimidated. “You pretended to be law enforcement.”

  Serpent inflated his chest. “I am law enforcement, farm boy. I work for the Petersville Police Department.”

  “You work in a part-time auxiliary capacity. It is not the same.”

  “Since when does an Amish pacifist know anything about law enforcement?”

  “I know legitimate officers of the law when I see them. I do not see such a man in you.”

  Pearson’s face darkened. He fisted his hands. “Move aside, Zook. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “You cannot hurt me, Pearson.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” Serpent tried to push past Abram and peer into the buggy.

  “You do not have the right to encroach on my private property,” Abram stated calmly.

  “Encroach?” Pearson laughed. “Who taught you that ten-dollar word? Surely not the schoolmarm in your one-room schoolhouse.”

  The Serpent stretched his hand toward the tarp in the rear of the buggy. Abram grabbed his arm. Pearson turned and landed a punch to Abram’s chin.

  The blow stung, but Abram refused to respond.

  Pearson tried to pull another punch. Abram ducked then grabbed Serpent and locked his arms in a tight hold behind his back. In one swift motion Abram removed the weapon from Pearson’s belt.

  Serpent struggled but Abram held him all the more tightly. Using his free hand, he removed the magazine from the gun and placed the unloaded weapon on the seat of his buggy.

  “You’ll pay for this, Zook.”

  “I have done nothing wrong. You are the one who harbors evil in your heart.” Abram tugged on the end of the scarf, which dropped to the ground, exposing the tattoo as well as a cut on Pearson’s neck.

  “You wear the mark of the evil one. Change your ways, Pearson, or you will regret your actions when you come to the end of your earthly journey.”

  The wail of a siren sounded in the distance.

  Pearson glanced at the road, seeing the approaching car, and strained against Abram’s hold even more. “You’ll regret this, Zook. Chief Tucker will haul you into the Petersville Police Department and explain the rights you don’t have. You plain folks think you’re above the law.”

  Abram tightened his grip on Serpent, relieved to see the deputy’s car screech to a stop. Ned Quigley threw open the driver’s door and hurried to offer assistance.

  “Sheriff Kurtz said you’ve had problems with this guy.” Quigley slipped handcuffs over Pearson’s wrists. “I’ll take him in for questioning. We’ll hold him for as long as possible. Kurtz will keep you updated.”

  “I thought you were with Pearson earlier.”

  Quigley looked perplexed. “Someone’s given you wrong information.”

  Abram would let his uncle resolve the confusion. Right now, he wanted to leave Willkommen and all that had happened behind and return Miriam to the security of his farm.

  He climbed into the buggy, and with a flick of the reins, Nellie started toward home. Once they were clear of the two vehicles, Miriam crawled out from under the tarp.

  “Is it over?” she asked.

  Abram nodded. “Serpent has been taken in for questioning. Hopefully he will stay in jail for a very long time.”

  Serpent’s apprehension meant Miriam was no longer in danger. Nor did she need Abram’s protection. While that should have brought relief, all Abram could think about was having to say goodbye to Miriam.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Miriam entered the farmhouse and hung the cape and bonnet Serpent had ripped off her on the peg by the door and shivered at the memory of rounding the corner and finding him on the street. Having him chase after their buggy when they were leaving Willkommen sent another shot of nervous anxiety to tangle down her spine. Thankfully Serpent had been apprehended, but even that did little to calm her troubled spirit.

  The house was too quiet and she glanced around the kitchen, feeling totally alone. Emma was in town, and Abram was unhitching Nellie. Still shaking from the run-ins with Pearson, Miriam kept imagining what would have happened if Serpent had pulled back the tarp and found her in the buggy. Would Abram have held fast to his Amish nonviolence or would he have fought to protect her?

  What did it matter? Abram was too enmeshed in the past. Not the adherence to the Old Order Amish ways—she understood that—but to his life with Rebecca. He couldn’t get over her death and would carry the guilt that was ill-founded for the rest of his life.

  Such a shame that he couldn’t forgive himself.

  He had asked her about her past. Had she forgiven her mother?

  Miriam glanced around the large kitchen with the finely crafted table and benches and the sideboard where Emma cooled her pies. A clock and calendar hung on the wall. Two oil lamps sat on shelves with tin plates behind them to expand the arc of light when night fell. Everything about the kitchen warmed her heart w
ith a sense of home, the stable home Miriam had never known.

  As much as Miriam wanted to climb the stairs and hole up in her bedroom so she wouldn’t have to see Abram again, she couldn’t run away. Emma would be late coming home and the burden of preparing the meal always fell on her shoulders. Surely, Miriam could prove herself useful instead of being a burden. That’s what she’d heard her mother say once about her daughters—that they were a burden. The word still cut a hole in Miriam’s heart. How could any mother say that about her child?

  Hot tears burned her eyes but Miriam refused to cry. She wouldn’t let her face be splotched and red when Abram came indoors. She didn’t need his perusal or questioning gaze. She had already said too much to him and had allowed herself to be too taken in by him. She’d learned her lesson.

  Love and a happy home weren’t for her, especially not with an Amish man who longed for his dead wife. Miriam could never compete, not that she wanted to. If Abram didn’t accept her for who she was, then he wasn’t the man for her.

  She would find someone else.

  Or would she?

  In reality she knew she wouldn’t. She would go through life with the wall around her heart, the way she had lived for the past twenty-four years. Abram had broken through that protective barrier for the briefest of times. She had made a mistake letting him in. A very big mistake.

  * * *

  Abram dallied in the barn, biding his time. He wasn’t ready to face Miriam again. The run-in with Serpent had unsettled him. The man had held Miriam captive and hurt her and had come so close to finding her again.

  Perhaps Abram had been too quick to bring his uncle into the situation. Had the meeting at the Amish market led to Serpent learning Miriam’s whereabouts? Abram needed to return to the market tomorrow and would talk to his uncle then. Samuel would be able to clarify some of the confusion as well as provide information about how long Serpent would be held in custody.

  Although relieved that Serpent had been apprehended, Abram was still troubled about another issue. His sister’s earlier admonition continued to swirl through his mind. Emma was right. Abram was prideful. He was also fearful of what Miriam would say if he asked her to stay, to join the Amish faith and give their future a chance. He had lost a love once. He was not willing to open himself to that pain again.