“I want them to be together,” said Jennifer honestly.
“So do I,” said Amanda.
“And I,” said Theodore.
“And I,” said Olivia.
This last response surprised Benjamin. He turned on his wife and snapped at her.
“Dear, we are Amish. We don’t marry outside of our people. It is just not how things are done. Think of what the community would say. ‘The preacher’s daughter has married a non-Amish’. We would be the laughing stock of the community.”
“Think about what you are saying, dear,” said Olivia. “You are putting your own ego above your child’s happiness. This isn’t about you, or the community, or preaching. This is about love, and happiness. If you didn’t shun Christopher and Sarah’s relationship to begin with, they wouldn’t have felt the need to sneak around, and they wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped by bandits.”
Benjamin’s face turned red with embarrassment and a little bit of guilt. Everyone could tell that his wife’s words had made an impact on him, for he went silent.
“Let’s worry about young love later,” suggested Theodore. “Right now the most important thing is that we get our kids back. We need to form a plan. Now, neither of us has enough money to meet the ransom. Not even if we sell everything and pool our wealth together. That wouldn’t be a happy solution anyway, because we would be left with nothing. We need to find a way to get into their camp and extract Christopher and Sarah as painlessly as possible. Now, who’s with me?”
“I am,” said everyone except for Benjamin. Evidently, he was still stuck on being somewhat stubborn.
Olivia nudged Benjamin slightly in the ribs. Then, finally, he spoke up.
“I am.”
“Good,” said Theodore. “Now let’s see what kinds of provisions we will need if we are going to storm their camp. This could be dangerous.”
“Our best bet is to infiltrate at night,” said Benjamin. “I have a bunch of shotguns upstairs that we can take with us, just in case we need to use them. Although I’d prefer this to be as peaceful as possible.”
“I wanna help,” said Jennifer.
“You are too young, dear,” said Amanda.
“You’re always saying I’m too young,” complained Jennifer.
“Well this time, we really mean it. It is going to be dangerous, getting Christopher and Sarah out of there. There will be a lot of big, scary men about.”
“Wait a minute,” said Benjamin suddenly. “I have an idea. We can use Jennifer to create a distraction as we go in and get our kids back. We can place her at the perimeter of the camp, as if she were a lost child. Jennifer can be crying. All the bandits in the area will run over to see what is happening. During that time, we can quickly go in and look for Christopher and Sarah, bringing them out.”
“And what if Jennifer should fall into harm’s way?” asked Amanda, suspiciously.
“I have studied bandit activity in this region. They are not especially known for their violence. They are always looking for peaceful ways to support their cause. They wouldn’t lay a finger on a young kid like Jennifer. It is just not how they do things.”
“Well, it is worth a shot, I suppose,” said Theodore. “Jennifer, are you willing to help out?”
“Yes!” said Jennifer enthusiastically. “I can cry. I am really good at crying.”
“We’ll need to dress all in black, so we can blend in with the night. I have a lot of black clothes upstairs, so follow me and we’ll get everyone dressed up,” said Olivia.
The two families got into their night-time garb. They looked like robbers themselves by the time they were all finished. Only Jennifer remained in her normal clothing, which tonight was a white summer dress with red stripes.
“Now,” began Benjamin, “I am fairly sure where their camp lies. From my research, I know that the bandits in this area like to camp out in large numbers. Their main camp is where they have likely brought our children to, I don’t think they would bother bringing them to a smaller camp on the outskirts of their operations. The last I heard, their main camp was located exactly three and a half miles to the east of here, just on the forest outskirts, and by the stream that flows down from there. I suggest we take some horses with us. We will probably have to make a very speedy getaway, especially if we run into a snag. We will need at least five horses for this operation. So, if there aren’t any questions, let us be off.”
No one had any questions and so the two families saddled up and began their ride. The moon lay high in the sky, providing light for their path. It didn’t take them very long before they neared the outskirts of the camp.
In the camp, Christopher and Sarah were sitting around a fire. They were surrounded by a group of about six bandits. Christopher and Sarah remained silent, but they could hear the talk around them perfectly well.
“I think they are going to pay up,” said a short, fat bandit. “They have no choice, and that Benjamin Miller is quite a stand-up fellow. He would never let anything happen to his kid.”
“He might let something happen to the young lad, though,” said another, taller bandit.
“Ah, but you see, that is where Theodore Lockley comes in. He is a very devoted father, and would never let anything happen to his son.”
“Either way, gents, we are going to get paid off in a big way!” said a third bandit, dressed in black and brandishing a shotgun.
All of a sudden, a young girl’s wails were to be heard. It sounded like it was coming from the outskirts of the camp, near the stream where they had washed up. The bandits surrounding them looked at one another, and then raced towards the noise. Christopher and Sarah were left unattended. They looked at one another, and could tell that they knew the thought that had dawned on both of them. Now was their chance. They stood up and quietly made their way toward the noise, making sure not to draw any extra, obvious attention. They couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw who was there crying. It was Jennifer! Little, sweet, young, Jennifer!
Christopher immediately recognized what was going. He recognized the plan that their families had concocted.
“They are around here somewhere,” whispered Christopher.
“Who?”
“Our families. They are coming to save us. Jennifer is the diversion.”
Then, behind them, suddenly Theodore appeared. He was dressed all in black, and was crouching very low so as not to be recognized or discovered.
“Come on!” he whispered in a deliberate tone. “We have horses; we need to get you out of here immediately.”
Theodore led Christopher and Sarah back around the edge of the camp, circling in a wide arc and landing at the top of the stream where their horses lay in waiting.
“I am going to get Jennifer,” said Theodore to the whole group, “you just make sure to get the heck out of here.
The others didn’t wait for Theodore to tell them twice. They saddled up and made their way back to safety. Meanwhile, Theodore also saddled up and raced towards Jennifer. He took the bandits by surprised. They were not expecting to see anyone on horse at that hour. As he trotted by he leaned over and grabbed Jennifer by the back of her dress and pulled her up onto the saddle. The bandit with a shotgun was quick to react, however. He aimed it at the horse and as Theodore was riding away with Jennifer, managed to get off a shot. However, luckily for them, he missed. As Theodore was riding off he heard several loud profanities yelled by the bandits who were stuck behind to curse their own lack of intelligence.
Back at the house, Benjamin and the rest of them were waiting for Theodore to return. Finally, as he appeared on the horizon, cantering up to the house, the families let out a loud cheer!
Amanda raced up to Jennifer and gave her a big hug. Jennifer was smiling.
“Did I do well, mommy?” she asked.
“You did extremely well, young one,” replied Amanda, who gave her another, very tight hug.
The Lockleys and Millers were not alone. Other members of the community
had gathered around, for they had heard about their plight and wanted to make sure their friends were safe. They were coming up to Benjamin, shaking his hand, and congratulating him on a job well done.
Then Benjamin had an idea. He called to the crowd.
“Listen up, my friends. We have been through a large ordeal this night. As you may or may not know, the Lockleys’ son, Christopher, is in love with my daughter, Sarah. Up until tonight, I thought this was a bad thing, for they are not Amish. But, I am going to entreat you now, would you all mind if we formally inducted the Lockleys into our community? We could help build them a house, and they could start coming to church. I hope none of you would mind if they became official Amish people.”
The crowd thought this was a great idea, for they saw in Christopher’s eyes that he truly loved Sarah. They could tell, as well, by looking at Sarah, that she was deeply in love with Christopher.
From that night on, the Amish folk embraced the Lockleys as official Amish. The Lockleys continued to stay with the Millers, in their house, until their own house was built. It took six months, but with everyone pitching in, the feeling was that they had done a superb job.
Later on that year, Christopher proposed to Sarah. Sarah immediately said yes, and gave him a hug and a kiss. From that moment on, the two lovers were inseparable. A giant wedding was planned later on that year, and everyone from the Amish community attended. Benjamin gave a speech at the wedding, outlying the magnificent struggle that they all had been through. He had to admit, that they made a fine couple. From that day forth, Benjamin welcomed Christopher into the family. As the years went by, Sarah bore Christopher several beautiful babies, and as their family grew, they couldn’t have been happier. Christopher went to work for Benjamin, studying to be a preacher himself. Christopher had a knack for the faith, and understood the concepts naturally.
As their children grew up, Christopher and Sarah never took them for granted, and because of the way that their own relationship had started, never made them marry within the Amish community. Their philosophy was that if you loved someone, that was the most important thing. Everything else was secondary.
***The End***
A Vampire Love In Time
By: Stephanie Hunt
CHAPTER 1
Fifteen. That was the number of shots that rang out into the crowded streets that surrounded the Gloomberg Hotel. Twelve. That was the number of victims that had been shot. Among those victims were my parents and I. My father being a paranormal investigator, would often take me and mother with him to do investigations. I was sixteen at the time and very excited about this particular vacation. I had heard father talk so exuberantly about the hotel. He swore that if he caught something, it would change our life forever.
The Gloomberg hotel was said to be extremely haunted. It was said that its residence had died violently there in the past. The hotel had gained fame as a tourist attraction. One of the more famous stories was told to me at the checkout desk. I remembered asking, “Why so many flowers?” as I walked into the spacious hotel.
The blonde haired receptionist smiled and said, “Lori likes them.” I looked at dad. “Lori is the housewife who died on the fifth floor. She had jumped to her death clinging to a bouquet of flowers” he informed. I frowned, “What happens if you don't put flowers out?” The receptionist smiled again. Her fingers typing our information in with lighting speed.
She was clearly used to these types of questions and was happy to give me an account. “It upsets Lori and she is known to be quite violent to people. One man traveling for business swore that she had put three huge claw marks on his back while he slept, because apparently he had stolen flowers from the lobby to take home to his wife.”
“Why did she like flowers so much?” I asked. Dad swiped his credit card when prompted, and placed it back into his wallet. “It was said that the bouquet was given to Lori by her lover, Arthur Clemens. He was said to have hung himself in the basement of the hotel. When Lori found out she was horrified. So she clung to the flowers he had given her and jumped.” Replied dad. “Oh, so you know the stories?” piped the receptionist with surprise. Dad gave her a slight smile and replied, “I'm a paranormal investigator. It's my job.”
Ironically, we were now its victims. The last thing I remembered were the screams. The horrible screams, and the blaring sirens that echoed in the distance. Signaling help that had come all too late. For three months I laid in a coma. When I finally woke up, my life had changed dramatically. It was explained to me by a social services lady that both my parents were dead. The shock hit me like a ton of bricks. I began to feel numb. Every other word she said sounded distant. Nothing mattered anymore. My heart shattered and a part of me, died.
“Lucy, are you okay?” I heard the social service lady ask. “I don't understand,” I replied. The lady started again and explained everything to me once more. Basically, an investigation had taken place. The shooting was found to be a disturbed teenager. He had been arrested at the scene. The gun commandeered. While much was still unknown about the event, much had been decided about my future.
I was to be placed in foster care. The doctors were unsure if I had suffered any brain damage or not. For now, it was a waiting game and I would have to stay in the hospital for several more weeks. The lady left me with that, and I was forced to lay there with my thoughts. I gravitated back to the last moments I spent with my family.
After we had checked in, we walked up the long staircase until we got to the third floor. We scouted out room one-seventeen, this was to be our room. Dad unlocked the door and mom was the first one in. She sat down a few bags that contained our equipment on the floor. The room seemed pleasant enough. There was everything you'd expect to find in a hotel. A king sized bed, a television, a desk, our own thermostat, and a mini fridge.
Dad took a seat on the bed and spoke, “What do you think Connie, can we all huddle in this bed tonight?” Mom pursed her lips, “Lucy is a little too old to sleep with her parents,” dad scratched his head, “Hmm...I see.” He mumbled something I couldn't hear and then snapped his fingers together. “No problem! We can get Lucy a room all by herself. How about it? My little girl, she's so brave! Being all alone in a haunted hotel,” I shrieked and jumped on the bed beside him. “No way!” I exclaimed.
Dad laughed. “Well, I suppose not. But it won't matter anyway, we're here to investigate, not sleep,” he said in the silliest voice he could manage. Mom rolled her eyes. “Let's go get some lunch,” she suggested. “Did someone say lunch?” said dad still using that same silly voice. He turned toward me and tickled my stomach until I let out a squeal of giggles. “Dad! I'm too old for the tickle monster!” I complained through fits of giggles. “Too old? You're never too old for giggles!” We laughed until mom spoke up, “Alright you two. Up, up before the restaurant closes.”
Outside was the warmest of days. The air was fragrant with the stench of burnt rubber, covered up by the delicious smells of hot pizza and French fries. The streets were packed with tourist like a New York strip. We had just gotten across the street. Racing for the nearest restaurant, when gun shots exploded into the crowd. Bang! Bang! Bang! I heard and never realized that I had been shot. I stared up into dad's eyes one last time. His smile was still plastered on his face. Then it faded and the screams rang out.
I snapped myself out of the nightmare. Tears flooding down my cheeks. I sobbed loudly, uncontrollably. I cried for everything I had lost. I cried because I was alone. I cried because I wanted the comfort of my dad and mom, I cried because I so desperately wanted it not to be true. That was the first time I felt it happen.
I began to feel dizzy and sick. My mind raced and as I closed my eyes I saw a thousand tiny stars. It is hard to explain, but as the stars started whizzing by at speeds I couldn't calculate, I felt my spirit move with them. I was flying so fast and I felt so free. Then I fell, I fell so fast that I hit the ground in a matter of seconds. I instinctively winched, but found that I was unharmed.
After exploring around a bit I discovered that I had been transported back to ancient Greece. I had dined with poets, sang with bards, nearly escaped death twice. Once by marauders, and once for almost being imprisoned, (though it was little fault of my own just a communication error), when I had finally returned to my time two weeks had passed.
Doctors and nurses had been in disarray; they were frightened that I had run off. “Someone call off the amber alert,” I heard a doctor say. He checked me out from head to toe and could find nothing wrong. “Where did you go?” he asked. I didn't know what to tell him. Somehow the truth felt like I was going mad. So I just shook my head.
He declined to press me further. I guess it was the look on my face. He left me to rest but it felt unnecessary to me. Somehow I felt stronger. I would go into foster care with confidence. Because I had discovered a secret power. I could escape my reality and perhaps I could change what happened here. The first spark of hope ignited in my spirit. It doesn't have to be this way. I thought.
Over the course of time. I realized that I could not control this gift. Nor did I know where I would be taken, how long I would stay there, and if I would be brought back to my time at all. It was wildly scary but I learned to accept it. I couldn't do anything else. I couldn't stop the time traveling even if I wanted too. Numerous tests had come back as inconclusive. The doctors wanted to say that I wander off and could never remember where or how I got back. They said it's due to my brain injury that I couldn't remember. Sort of like dementia.
I knew better though. Foster homes tried to take extra precaution with me. They put cameras in my room that never caught anything because the camera battery would just die. I was accused of tampering with it. I would be punished. I was switched from home to home. At one point I was held in a Juvenal correction facility for running away. Still I kept flying through time.
When I was eighteen I left foster care and moved to an apartment. I got a part time job as a waitress. Now I'm twenty-four, work two jobs, and still live in the same slump. I barely make the four hundred, nighty-five dollar rent. And night terrors had become a frequent thing, plaguing my life since the shooting. I toss and turn and always gasp awake, drenched in sweat and fear.
No Choice but to Marry: A Historical Mail Order Bride Romance Page 21
