Her annoyance slipped away. “I’m sorry. It’s just that he is so young yet. He idolized Seth, our brother who was killed. Seth was big and strong like Papa, not slender like Jacob. Seth had the touch when it came to horses. Mamm used to say he could whisper to them and they did just as he wished. Jacob wants to be a horseman like Seth was but he is impatient.”
John sat back and stared into space. “A horseman. He wants to be a horseman, a geils-mann. Here is my geils-mann loafing under a tree.”
Karen eyed him with concern. “What are you talking about?”
He focused on her face. “I had another memory flash. It was summer, and I was sitting under an apple tree. There was a woman behind me. She said, ‘Here is my geils-mann loafing under a tree.’ I heard the words clear as day.”
“Who was she?” Karen asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see her face.”
“How did you know what the word meant?” she asked in surprise.
“I’m not sure. I just know.”
As the ramifications of his comment sank in, Karen’s heart sank, too. Geils-mann was an Amish expression. Only someone raised speaking Pennsylvania Dutch would use the word. If John had not been raised Amish then the woman he spoke of surely had been. Karen glanced at John. Who was John Doe and who was this woman to him?
Several days later, John was outside early in the morning gathering a load of wood for his stove when he saw Nick Bradley drive into the yard. John’s heart jumped into overdrive. Maybe the sheriff’s investigation had turned up something new. He waited with bated breath as Nick climbed out of his SUV.
Touching the brim of his hat, Nick said, “Morning. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d check and see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine. Have you learned anything new?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
John’s anticipation drained away. He carried the logs to the box beside his front door and dropped them. He’d have to learn not to get his hopes up. Somehow.
Nick said, “I was hoping you might have found out something. Not that I want you to make me look bad.”
“No worries. I’m still a walking blank. I’ve had a few flashes of memory, but nothing concrete.”
“Are you writing them down?”
John paused and looked at the sheriff. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You should. Even the smallest thing you recall might help me. How’s the head?” He pointed to John’s bandage.
“Better.”
“My cousin Amber wanted me to remind you that you need to come in to Dr. White’s office and get your stitches out.”
He rubbed gingerly at his dressing. The sutures had started to itch. “I know I was supposed to go in a few days ago, but I’ve had other things on my mind.”
“I’ve got time to run you into Hope Springs this morning. Shall I see if they can work you in? I’m free for a while unless I get a call.”
“That would be great, but how do I get back if you’ve got to leave?” A light dusting of snow covered the ground this morning and occasional flakes drifted down from the gray sky. John didn’t want to walk five miles back to the farm in this weather.
“We have a couple of folks in town that provide taxi services to the Amish. Amber can arrange a ride if you need it.” Nick made the phone call.
After a brief conversation, he closed the phone. “All set. They can see you in half an hour.”
“Let me tell Miss Imhoff where I’m going. She likes to keep a tight leash on me.”
Nick chuckled. “I’ve heard she can be a tough cookie.”
The two men walked toward the main house. Nick asked, “How’s it working out? You staying here.”
“It’s fine. The boy, Jacob, isn’t thrilled, but Noah and Anna don’t seem to mind. Eli is taking a wait-and-see attitude.”
“And Karen?”
John glanced toward the house. “She’s been very kind.”
Before they reached the steps, Eli came out to greet them. His stoic face showed nothing of what he was thinking. He nodded to the sheriff. “Goot day to you.”
“The same to you, Eli. I’m going to take John into town so Doc White can check him out. I’ll see that he gets back, too. How is your arm?”
Flexing his fingers in the sling, Eli said, “It is healing.”
Jacob came out of the house followed by Anna and Noah. The children hung back at the sight of the sheriff.
Nick glanced from Eli to Jacob. “I had a complaint about some Amish boys racing buggies over on Sky Road yesterday. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Nee. We do not,” Eli stated firmly. John caught the furtive glance Jacob shot in the sheriff’s direction before looking down.
Nick nodded. “It’s dangerous business racing on a public road. Gina Curtis had to put her car in the ditch to avoid hitting someone. It did a fair amount of damage to her front end. None of the buggy drivers stuck around. She wasn’t hurt but she could have been.”
Eli glanced at his son. “Do you know anything about this?”
“No, Papa.” Jacob glared at the sheriff. If he did know something, he wasn’t talking. Noah remained uncharacteristically quiet.
Eli said, “Go on to school now, children.”
The kids rushed down the steps with their lunch pails in hand and headed toward the school two miles away. Several times they threw looks over their shoulders. John had the distinct feeling they did know something.
After bidding Mr. Imhoff goodbye, John climbed in the sheriff’s SUV. When Nick got in and started the truck, John said, “You think Jacob was involved, don’t you?”
Nick turned the vehicle around and drove out the lane. They passed the children walking. Only Anna waved.
Nick said, “Gina’s description could fit ten boys in this area. I didn’t expect to get a confession. Illicit buggy racing goes on amongst Amish teenagers the same way drag racing goes on among the English kids. A lot of Amish parents turn a blind eye to that kind of behavior during the rumspringa.”
“What’s that?”
“It means running-around years. Amish teens are free to experiment with things that won’t be allowed once they join the church. You’ll see their buggies outfitted with boom boxes, they’ll have cell phones and they’ll dress like regular kids when they are away from the farm. Jacob is young for that type of behavior. Rumspringa normally starts when the kids are about sixteen, but his dad has some fine horses.”
“Yes, he does.”
The sheriff looked at him sharply. “Do you know something about horses?”
“I know which end is which. I seem to know what a good Standardbred looks like. I found out I can drive a buggy and Eli’s two-wheeled cart without a problem. He’s been letting me use the cart to visit farms around here. The one thing I did remember was a woman’s voice. She called me her geils-mann.”
“She called you her horseman? That’s interesting. Maybe we ruled out your being ex-Amish too soon. It’s good to hear things are coming back to you.”
John had been wondering about the young woman ever since his vision. Was she his sister, a friend, his wife? He had no way of knowing.
He turned to stare out the window. “Not enough things are coming back to me.”
Karen didn’t want to reveal to her father her burning curiosity about the sheriff’s visit. Instead, when he came inside, she served him another cup of coffee before casually asking, “Where is the sheriff taking John?”
“To see the doctor in town.”
“Oh.” Relief made her knees weak. He wasn’t taking him away to his old life. She sat down quickly. Even though that was what she prayed for, losing him, even for the right reason, wasn’t something she wanted to face. Not yet.
Eli watched her closely. “You have taken a great liking to John Doe.”
Apparently her feelings weren’t as well hidden as she had hoped. She toyed with the corner of her apron. “He is so lost. I wish to help him. That
is all.”
Her father covered her hands with his own. “Take care, daughter. He is not one of us.”
“He is one of God’s children.”
“Do not seek to divert me. You know exactly what I mean. Our faith makes no exceptions for those who stray outside the Ordnung.”
“I have done nothing against the rules of the church. John will only be here a few more days.” She forced herself to smile in reassurance, but her father was not fooled.
“I should have encouraged you to marry long ago, but I was so befuddled without your mother. It was selfish of me.”
“Papa, I am happy caring for the little ones and keeping your house. I could not ask for more.”
Sadness filled his eyes. “I would ask for more in your life. A woman should have a husband to love and shelter her. The risk of temptation would not be so great.”
Karen looked down at her hands. “I am not tempted by John Doe.”
“Do not forget that I am a man like all other men. I see the way he looks at you. I see the way you try not to look back at him.”
She pulled her hands away from his. “I care about him. I don’t deny that. When I saw him lying on the ground bleeding and wounded, I saw Seth. I could not save my brother. He died in my arms. I know his death was the will of God. Just as I know John lived by the will of God alone.”
“We do not know why God brings sadness or joy into our lives. We only know all comes from His purpose for us.” Eli leaned back in his chair and took a sip of coffee.
“I know that, Papa. But why has God taken away John’s memory? I believe it is because God wants to show John something he could not see before.”
Eli grasped her hand again. “Karen, Karen, you cannot know this. You cannot presume to know Gotte wille.”
She looked into his eyes so full of concern. “I’m sorry, Papa. I did not mean to upset you. Please trust me when I say you have nothing to worry about.”
Leaning forward, she said earnestly, “My heart is here, with you, and with the children. Nothing could make me throw that away.”
He relaxed and nodded slightly. “You have always been a goot daughter and strong in your faith. You see something in the Englischer that I do not see. You may be right. God sent John Doe into our midst for a reason. I will keep an open mind about this man.”
John entered the Hope Springs Medical Clinic, a modern one-story blond brick building, with a niggling sense of dread. He’d had enough of hospitals and doctors without getting any answers in return. Inside, he checked in with the elderly receptionist and took a seat in the waiting room. He didn’t have to wait long.
A young woman in a white lab coat and blue scrubs called his name. He followed her down a short hallway and took a seat on the exam-room table.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Doe. I’m Amber Bradley, Nick Bradley’s cousin.” She stuck a thermometer under John’s tongue.
She removed it when it beeped and John said, “You’re the one I need to thank for the financial help.”
Wrapping a blood-pressure cuff around his arm, she said, “You’re welcome, but it wasn’t just me. A lot of people wanted to help.”
John remained quiet until she had finished with his blood pressure. When she took the stethoscope out of her ears, he said, “I wasn’t aware that I required a midwife.”
She chuckled. “I am a woman with many hats. One of those being an office nurse.”
The door opened and a tall, distinguished man with silver hair came in leaning heavily on a cane. “Yes, and she is proof that good help is hard to come by these days.”
“Ha!” she retorted. “You just try running this office without me, Harold.”
“No doubt I’ll have to when you marry what’s-his-name,” he grumbled.
“Is that any way to talk about your grandson? Don’t worry, Mr. Doe, Dr. White’s bark is worse than his bite.” She checked John’s ears, his eyes and then his throat.
Dr. White, who had been reading John’s chart, said, “You are a very interesting case, Mr. Doe.”
“So I’ve been told.” John tried not to let his bitterness show. He hated being an oddity, the freak with a damaged mind.
“I imagine you’re tired of hearing that.” The doctor washed his hands and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. “Good guess.”
Harold began removing the bandage from John’s head. “We medical people live for cases like yours. The odd thing, the unusual diagnoses. It’s like catnip to us. We want to define it, study it, understand it, cure it.”
John winced as the tape pulled his hair. “I’m in favor of a cure. Tell me which pill to take.”
“Amnesia following a trauma isn’t unusual, but normally it involves losing a short period of time just prior to the injury. A prolonged and complete amnesia such as you have is exceedingly rare.”
“Lucky me.” This time John didn’t disguise his sarcasm.
“Your scalp is healed nicely. How are your ribs?”
“Not bad if I take it slow.”
“Good. I’m going to have Amber take out the stitches. Any headaches?”
“Sometimes.”
“Bad ones?”
“They can be. I think they’re getting better. Maybe I’m just getting used to them.”
“Is there any particular thing that triggers them?” The doctor pulled off his gloves and picked up John’s chart.
“I get these flashes, like images from a movie. I think they are memories, but I can’t be sure. When that happens the pain gets intense.”
“You say you think they’re memories. Anything specific?”
John felt stupid sharing the few instances that he’d had. “Frying trout. A woman laughing. A sick or starving horse. A woman using an Amish word. Nothing with any context of time or place.”
“The same woman?” Amber asked.
“I’m not sure. I don’t see her face.”
“Are these flashes becoming more frequent?” The doctor made a note on the chart.
John held still as Amber began removing his stitches. “Not that I can tell. Some days I’ll have one or two, some days I won’t have any.”
He winced but didn’t yelp as she worked on one stubborn stitch. Finally, she said, “All done. You’ll just need to keep it clean and dry, but otherwise you’re good to go. I understand you’re staying at Eli Imhoff’s place.”
“Yes. That’s where I was found. I’ve been interviewing the Amish in the area for the past several days hoping to find someone who recognizes me. I mean, I must have been in the area for a reason.”
Closing the chart, Dr. White asked, “You’ve been going door-to-door?”
“I started with the farms closest to where I was found but I’m not having much luck. Don’t get me wrong. The Amish have been forthcoming, maybe because I’ve had Karen Imhoff with me, but no one knows anything.”
Amber and Dr. White exchanged glances. Amber said, “There might be an easier way to meet people than going to every house in the area.”
John looked at her with interest. “How?”
Dr. White said, “November is the month for Amish weddings. Sometimes as many as four hundred people show up for them. Elam Sutter’s wedding is this coming Thursday.”
“Nettie Sutter did invite me to the supper.”
“Great,” Amber said, looking at Harold. “Phillip and I will be there, too.”
“Oh, and I’m chopped liver now?” Harold asked, a teasing edge in his tone.
Amber smiled at John. “Dr. Harold White will also be attending the event, and he knows every soul in this county.”
Harold met John’s gaze and said, “Chances are almost everyone there will have already heard your story.”
“How?” John asked. “They don’t have radio or TV.”
Amber laughed. “You would be surprised how fast news travels in a small community like this.”
Harold rubbed his chin. “I’m sure the Imhoff family will be going for the entire day. Why don’t you r
ide along with me, young man? I’ll introduce you around and see if we can come up with someone who knows you.”
John realized it could be his best chance to meet many of the reclusive Amish in the area. He inclined his head. “Sir, I would be delighted to accompany you.”
Chapter Seven
True to his word, Nick stuck around to give John a lift from the clinic back to the farm. As the sheriff drove away, John stood in the yard staring at the farmhouse. Once again he was struck by how tidy the farmstead was. The fences were all in good repair, the barn and outbuildings had been recently painted. Everything spoke of order and neatness. Eli Imhoff was a good steward of his land.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, John wondered what kind of steward he was. Did he have lands and a home to care for? Or did he live in an apartment in a crowded city? If he could wish for a home—it would be one like this.
Instead of going into the grandfather house, John made his way to the barn and to the stalls where the horses stood dozing or munching grain. He was surprised by how comfortable he felt among them. Sometime in his life he must’ve worked on a ranch or farm. If only he could remember where or when.
He was petting the nose of the big draft horse when he heard a door open. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Karen coming from another part of the barn. In her hands she carried a pail brimming full of apples.
Her face brightened when she caught sight of him. “You are back. What did the doctor say?”
John moved to take the pail from her. “He said I’m doing good. Except for not remembering anything, of course.”
“You will remember when God wills it.”
“I wish He’d hurry up, I’m tired of living in the dark.”
“I know it is a terrible burden for you.”
“You must be tired of hearing me complain. What are the apples for?”
“I’m putting up applesauce.”
“Need some help?”
She slanted a grin at him. “Can you pare an apple?”
Giving an exaggerated shrug, he said, “Only one way to find out.”
Inside the house, John sat at the kitchen table and quickly discovered he could use a paring knife. As he cored and chopped the contents of the bucket into a large bowl he had a chance to observe Karen at work.
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