by Marta Perry
“You missed her wedding,” Sadie reminded her, and there was an edge to her voice.
Disapproval? Or disappointment? Rachel wasn’t sure, but she felt guilty. “It was hard for me to get away on a school day. And Paul...” She stopped herself from saying anything that sounded disapproving of Paul.
For a moment Sadie didn’t speak. When she did, her tone had changed. “He doesn’t like us much, ain’t so?”
“He never understood.” And he didn’t try. It hadn’t seemed worth it to him, Rachel realized. That was a sad commentary on their marriage.
“You could have come anyway by yourself.” Sadie, normally very forgiving, was holding on to this.
“I should have. But things were already so difficult between us that I hated to bring up anything I knew would cause a fight.” She sucked in a breath. “I should have. I’m ashamed that I didn’t.”
Sadie didn’t speak for a moment. Was she trying to hold on to her anger? But then she touched Rachel’s shoulder lightly. “That made it hard for you.”
It was the smallest indication of empathy, and Rachel accepted it gladly, putting her hand over Sadie’s for a moment.
“Now, let us see what we can do with your hair.” Sadie gestured to the bedroom chair, sounding determined to ignore the moment. “It’s gut you wear it long.”
“Easier to pull it back in a braid when I’m working with five-year-olds.” She couldn’t push, Rachel reminded herself. If she and Sadie were going to return to the old, easy relationship, she’d have to give her cousin time.
“Yah.” Sadie picked up the hairbrush. “You were always gut with the little ones.”
For a few moments they were quiet, with only Sadie’s nimble fingers moving as she transformed Rachel’s hair into the customary braided bun. Rachel could see Sadie’s face in the mirror that reflected the rays of the early morning sun streaming in the window behind them.
Sadie’s soft brown hair was pulled back from her rosy face in the center part that was customary. Her hair had been lighter once, though never the pale yellow that Rachel’s was. Her eyes, a clear, bright blue, had lost the twinkle they’d once had, but maybe that was because of Rachel’s arrival.
Sadie glanced up and caught her gaze in the mirror.
“It wondered me...” she began, and then let the words fade away.
“What? You can ask me anything, you know. If it’s about the trouble that brought me here...”
“Not exactly.” Sadie focused on the hairpins she was sticking into place. “I was thinking about your mother.” Sadie glanced around, as if making sure Grossmammi wasn’t still lingering in the upstairs hall, able to hear them.
Rachel understood, and her own heart winced. Mom had caused her parents so much pain when she left, and that had never really healed. How could it, when her mother ignored them so completely?
“She’s all right, if that’s what you’re asking.” Rachel kept her voice level. “She lives out in Arizona now in a retirement community.”
“You couldn’t count on her for help then.”
“No.” And not just because Mom was so far away. “She seems happy with her life. Busy with lots of social activities. If I call, I always catch her running out the door for something or other.”
Again that brief touch on her shoulder, as Sadie seemed to understand all the things she didn’t say. Mom had never been the kind of mother a child could rely on, and she could hardly expect that to change now. Rachel had always been an afterthought, or more likely an unpleasant reminder of her father. Their relationship was practically nonexistent now, and the idea of asking her for help in time of trouble was as ludicrous as asking the same from the Tooth Fairy.
“There.” Sadie set the white kapp in place and secured it with hairpins. “Now you look like a proper Amish woman, ain’t so?”
Rachel thought Sadie was probably forcing the light tone, but she went along with it, smiling at the unfamiliar figure that was reflected in the mirror. “Gut job, Sadie. Denke.”
Sadie nodded, a smile lingering on her face until the sound of heavy footsteps on the back porch below them startled her. “Ach, the men are in and wanting breakfast. Komm, we must hurry.”
Following her, Rachel could only hope that she and Sadie had begun to bridge the gap she’d sensed between them since her unexpected arrival. Give it time, she reminded herself, but the very thought made her wonder how much time she really had. How long until Clint was on her trail?
By evening, much of Rachel’s apprehension had disappeared. Somehow it seemed impossible that any unpleasantness could intrude upon the ordered serenity of Amish life. She had spent much of the day either with her grandmother, listening to her stories and working alongside her at the baking and the mending, or with Sadie’s children.
It was hard to believe sometimes that she and Sadie were the same age, especially when she looked at the four beautiful children Sadie and Timothy had produced. Blond and blue-eyed, as Sadie had been before the years turned her hair a few shades darker, they had her rosy cheeks and Timothy’s easy, teasing smile.
Anna, the oldest at seven, was so like her mother at that age that Rachel almost felt disoriented when she looked at her. The two little boys were alike enough to be twins, but were two years apart. And the baby, Becky... Well, Rachel fell in love when she held the chubby twelve-month-old. Becky was just beginning to walk, and to see her wobbly, triumphant progress from sofa to chair was enough to swell anyone’s heart.
By suppertime, Anna obviously felt that it was her turn to have Rachel’s attention, since the younger ones had an unfair advantage in being with Cousin Rachel all day while she was at school.
Now, with the supper dishes completed and Sadie giving year-old Becky and three-year-old Thomas a bath, Anna tugged at Rachel’s hand. “You promised to read me a story, Cousin Rachel. Let’s go out on the back porch where it’s quiet.” She shot a glance at five-year-old Daniel, who was playing a rowdy game with his father.
“I’m not sure there’s enough light...” she began, but Anna was already moving, so she followed her out to the porch. The sun was sliding behind the ridge and the shadows gathering, but Anna boosted herself onto the porch swing and opened her book.
“Now, we’re all ready.” She sounded satisfied, so Rachel sat down next to her.
“What are we reading?” Her eyes adjusted to the failing light, and she could make out the print. “Little House in the Big Woods. I remember this one. Your mammi and I read it together one summer when we were about your age.”
“Did Mammi like it?” Anna leaned her head against Rachel’s arm confidingly. Rachel’s heart lurched. If her life had been different, she might have a daughter like Anna depending on her now.
“She did—that’s certain sure.” The Pennsylvania Dutch dialect came easier each time she spoke, welling up from wherever it had been stored. “We used to pretend we were the sisters and try to do all their adventures. Another summer when we were older we read Anne of Green Gables and pretended we were Anne and Diana. You probably didn’t read that one yet.”
“Mammi has it and she says we can read it after we finish all the Little House books.” She leafed through the book to the right page. “Here’s where to start.”
Rachel read obediently, finding her voice reflecting the actions on the page automatically, as it did when she read to her kindergartners. But this was different. They were her students, but Anna was connected to her by blood. She didn’t know why that should matter, but it did.
Anna and the others woke the longing she’d pushed to the back of her mind for so long—a reminder of the children she didn’t have. She’d dreamed for so long of the family she’d one day mother, and she’d pictured herself with a strong, good man beside her, providing her children with the warm, loving, secure home life she hadn’t known.
But it had soon become clear that woul
dn’t happen with Paul. He hadn’t wanted the responsibility, hadn’t wanted to be tied down, had wanted to remain free. And as the depth of his addiction to gambling became clear—how could she have brought a helpless child into that life?
Now Paul was free, but she couldn’t see that it had made him happy. Anna’s head resting against her arm seemed to activate that familiar sense of loss—not loss of Paul, but loss of the vision she’d had on the day they married.
“Anna!” The back door swung open. “I didn’t know where you were.” Sadie seemed to realize her tone was too sharp, and she softened it.
But Anna was already looking at her mother, her blue eyes wide. “But, Mammi, you heard me ask Cousin Rachel to read me a story.”
“Yah, I know.” Sadie patted her head. “I just forgot for a minute. Run along in and get ready for bed. You can say good-night now. You’ll see Cousin Rachel in the morning.”
Mollified, Anna nodded, hopping off the swing. “Good night, Cousin Rachel. Thank you for reading my story.” She threw her arms around Rachel for a big hug and scurried into the house.
Sadie would have followed her if Rachel hadn’t shot from the swing and stopped her. She grasped her cousin’s arm, determined to get an answer. “Sadie, what’s going on? Why don’t you want me to read to your kinder?”
Sadie’s face reflected a struggle. Finally, not looking at Rachel, she answered, “It’s not the reading. It’s coming out here. I don’t want you out here alone with Anna.”
She wouldn’t have been more surprised if Sadie had slapped her. “Why? What do you think I’m going to do to her?”
“Nothing!” Sadie swung on her. “You wouldn’t hurt her. But what about those people who were bothering you? What if they follow you here? What if they find you when you’re alone with one of my kinder? What might they do?”
The blow struck at her heart. Hurt, pain and mostly shame. She was ashamed of her own thoughtlessness. “Sadie, I’m sorry. You’re right. I would never want to put one of you in danger.” Shame flooded over her. “I was thinking only of myself. I’ll leave.”
Now Sadie grabbed her arm. “Ach, no. I don’t want you to go.” Her fingers bit into Rachel’s skin. “I’m just... I’m frightened. Mostly for you, I think. If you leave, we won’t know what’s happening to you.” Her arms went around Rachel in a sudden, fierce hug. “Don’t go. Just be careful.”
“I will. It’ll be all right.”
Sadie freed herself and rushed off, leaving Rachel to struggle with her own conscience. She hadn’t thought of them, only of herself. She’d been seduced into relaxing too much, confident that she was in a safe place. But she couldn’t risk other people’s safety, no matter how unlikely it was that the man who’d attacked her could find her here.
Finally, growing chilly, she rose. Sitting here in the dark wasn’t going to generate any answers, but somehow she didn’t feel composed enough to go in and chat. Instead, she opened the back door and took a flashlight off the hook inside.
Grossmammi, engaged in cutting a cherry pie into slices, looked up and smiled. “Going to the barn, ain’t so?”
“How did you know?”
“You always wanted to say good-night to the horses when you were little. Don’t stay too long. Pie and coffee are almost ready.”
Nodding, Rachel withdrew. Darkness drew in quickly once the sun was behind the ridge, and the flashlight cast a welcome circle of light ahead of her footsteps. She had been worse than thoughtless, not realizing what was troubling Sadie. Of course she was worried about her children’s safety.
And now Rachel was. It honestly hadn’t occurred to her that she was putting anyone else at risk. She’d been frightened, and she’d run for home automatically, like a child.
If she made an excuse and left, would that help? If someone followed her here, would he assume they were lying when they said she’d gone? Or would he think her grandparents must know where she was, the way everyone assumed she knew where Paul was? The more she thought about it, the more confused she felt.
The barn door was ajar, probably in anticipation of Grossdaadi’s late-evening visit. She slid it open a little farther, just enough so that she could get through. There she stopped, standing and taking in the familiar sounds and scents of the barn.
One of the buggy horses whickered softly, probably assuming she’d brought a treat with her. Luckily she remembered where her grandfather kept his supply of carrots.
Fetching a handful, she approached the closest stall. The horse held back for a moment, but when she held out her hand, palm flat, he recognized the familiar movement. Soft lips moved on her palm, daintily taking the carrot.
Rachel laughed softly. “That was an easy way to make friends, wasn’t it? You’re greedy,” she scolded, as the animal investigated her palm again. She patted him. “I’ll come back,” she added, speaking in English for the first time all day.
She turned to the next stall. In the instant she moved she felt something, heard something—a step, a movement—and then arms circled her and a large hand closed firmly over her mouth.
Unable to wield the flashlight, Rachel kicked back, connecting with something that felt like a man’s knee. She felt the breath go out of him, and then a furious voice in her ear.
“Dammit, don’t scream!”
She recognized the exasperated voice even as her body relaxed. He eased his hand away from her mouth.
“Clint Mordan,” she said, angry but somehow not surprised.
She should have known he’d find her.
CHAPTER SIX
NOW THAT HE had her, what was he going to do with her? Clint loosened his hold, but he didn’t let go. He’d been driven to find Rachel by an impulse as much personal as professional. Now that he had, all he could feel was relief that she was in one piece, combined with the exasperation she’d roused since the moment they met.
“How did you know me?” When she spoke, the question she picked to ask surprised him.
Relaxing a little, he took the flashlight from her hand and moved it enough to show the plain blue dress, the blond hair drawn back from a center part, and a small white headpiece. Amish dress was a surprisingly good disguise. If he’d seen her in a crowd or from a distance, he probably wouldn’t have recognized her.
“I didn’t,” he admitted. “I wasn’t sure until I heard your voice. I wouldn’t forget that.”
Now what had impelled him to add the comment? It wasn’t part of his job to get personal.
“I guess I should have stayed with Pennsylvania Dutch, even with the horses.”
“You actually speak the language?”
“I spent every summer here when...” She stirred, making him realize he still had his arm around her. “Why are we talking about that? How did you find me? And do you think you might let go now?”
Clint loosened his grasp, but he didn’t intend to let go entirely, not until he was sure she wouldn’t attempt to run. His eyes had adjusted to the dim light while he waited in the barn. He could make out her features and the delicate oval of her face.
“Finding you wasn’t easy,” he admitted. “You did all the right things. Leaving the car at the airport, switching from train to bus—you might also be a pro at it.”
“I’m not.” Her voice was tart. “But you found me so easily after Lyn and I switched cars that I knew I had a pro after me. Not to mention other people. How did you know to come here? Not my mother...” She let the words trail off, as if she’d stumbled across the truth she didn’t want to see.
“Your mother,” he agreed. “She didn’t seem to know anything about your disappearance.” Logan had actually made the call, being gifted with more tact than Clint. “But she mentioned her parents’ farm, and the rest was easy.”
“You didn’t tell her I was in trouble.” Alarm widened her eyes.
“No, of course not. I’m su
re my partner gave her some totally innocent-sounding reason for wanting to reach you. He didn’t say that you were missing, just that he wanted to reach you. He’s very tactful. But maybe you should send her a message that you’re elsewhere, so she won’t mention the farm to anyone else.”
She rubbed her forehead as if she disliked the idea, but then she nodded. The brief alarm she’d shown at the idea slipped away. “All right. I can tell her something. She wouldn’t have been all that concerned.”
He wasn’t sure whether that meant her mother would have been reassured by Logan or whether she wouldn’t have been concerned in any event. He caught a whiff of a troubled relationship. Not his business, but still, he couldn’t seem to help wanting to know.
“I gather you didn’t consider turning to her.” He tried to phrase it carefully.
Rachel seemed to stiffen. “No.”
That short response spoke volumes. He’d like to hear the whole story, but now wasn’t the time.
“We do try to be discreet. Once we knew you had family in this area...well, Logan had already discovered that you’d taken the bus for State College. I was headed there when he told me about your grandparents.”
“And you decided to hide in the barn and grab me.” She snapped the words, but somehow there was as much resignation as anger in her voice.
“I was afraid you’d scream. And I was trying to check the place out quietly. I didn’t want to alarm the family if you weren’t here.”
“I suppose I should thank you for that,” she muttered. “The family is important to me. I don’t want them upset any more than they already are.”
“Does that mean that you’ve told them what’s going on?”
She blinked. “Of course. I couldn’t stay here without telling them the truth.”
“I guess not—not if you care about them.” He was beginning to understand her. She’d evade his questions, but she wouldn’t lie. And people she cared about got the whole story.
