Amish Country Amnesia

by Meghan Carver

  He pictured the police badge they had found in the snow. Shield. The word zinged into his mind. That was what it was more properly called. But he could summon no recollection of wearing a uniform or handling a weapon or even who his colleagues might have been within the department. There was at least one officer who was not completely on the up-and-up. But who? And were there others?

  The void engulfed him, a black hole that had swallowed all his memories. He was unable to pull out anything further.

  And just like that, his head began to pound, right behind his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to remember anything else now.

  He grabbed his mug and took another long pull on his cider, but it only soured as it hit his stomach.

  “Are you well? Are any more memories returning?” Sarah’s gentle voice soothed him more than the cider ever could.

  “I feel a headache coming in. And no. No more memories. I’m a police officer, and I’m in trouble, both from a criminal ring of some sort and from someone or some people within the police department. That’s all I can remember.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. His glance fell on the clock. “What about the market? Mammi Mary needs to return to her booth, and I’m not comfortable staying in one place much longer. We need to change our location.”

  “Just a few more minutes. I have a question for Mammi Mary, John, if you will allow me.” A sheepish look graced her face.

  He nodded and spoke the question that was probably on both of their minds. “If you’re my grandmother, then why am I not Amish?”

  Sarah returned the nod. He had asked her question.

  “You are short on time, so I will keep this sad story brief.” Mary sighed and shifted in her chair, fingering one of the ties that dangled from her prayer kapp. “The Lord only blessed me with one child. Your father, David. We were unusual within the Amish community. Amish families typically have lots of children. But I savored every moment with him. As children do, David grew up and met a lovely young Amish woman. Your mother, Miriam. Your grossdaadi, your grandfather, and I had known her most of her life and loved her like our own. It was not long after they married, and they welcomed you, their first bobbeli. A beautiful baby boy.”

  Sarah turned to smile at him, and John felt a blush rise to his cheeks. “It sounds like everything was fine then. What happened?”

  “When you were four years old, your mamm had another baby. A little girl. But as sometimes happens, the bobbeli was born with problems. Your father, a good Amish man, hitched up the buggy and went for the telephone to call for help. But help did not come fast enough. The baby died.”

  A pain rose in his chest, surprising him with a sudden heartache for a sister he never knew. Mary’s eyes stared at the door as she seemed to relive those days.

  “As soon as the funeral was over, your daed packed up your mamm and you, and you left in the Amish taxi. He was so bitter over what he thought Gott had done to him that he would not speak to us. He just left.” Mary ran her hand over the smooth surface of the table, multiple emotions running across her face as she seemed to fight to keep control. “I have not seen him since.”

  Silence fell over the room, grief enveloping John, although nothing that Mary had said seemed familiar to him. He listened closely for anyone approaching the break room, but there was no one. Now that he had just the slightest bit more information, he needed to be even more vigilant for their safety.

  “What about your husband? My grandfather?”

  “He died years ago, not long after your father left the Amish community. The doctor said it was a heart attack, but I believe his heart was broken by the loss of his family.” Mary passed a hand over her forehead as if trying to wipe away the difficult memories. “Because of David’s disdain for the Amish way of life, I do not have much information about you. Like I said, I would assume that if your mother had had any more bobblin, she would have written when she sent information about you.”

  “So, I’m an only child.” Not that he could remember any siblings, but a new feeling of loneliness invaded him.

  “Can you remember if you were raised with any faith? I have not been able to tell from your mother’s few letters what their standing is with the Lord. They left here so bitter and angry that I expect they rejected Gott altogether.”

  “I’m just not sure. I think I believe. It seems right to me. But clearly, I’m not Amish. Not anymore.”

  A skim through the letters tantalized him, but it only seemed like he was reading about a stranger. His mind had no recognition of the person in the notes. Memories were there, he knew, but they were just beyond his mental grasp.

  Sarah picked up one of the envelopes and studied the careful manuscript.

  What he did know, though, were three things. First, he wasn’t married according to the letters, but still, he was beginning to care too much for his own comfort about the beautiful Amish woman who, even now, smiled as she looked at the letter. Second, the feeling of danger was real and intense. And third, the sooner he could remember, the sooner this could all be over, and he could return to his life.

  The question was, would that be for better or for worse?

  * * *

  His name was Jedediah.

  Sarah’s heart swelled within her, and she wanted a piece of paper and a pencil to doodle that name in the margins like a silly school girl.

  Jedediah was a gut name.

  But no. She absolutely must stop her thinking from going in that direction. John had just stated an obvious truth.

  Clearly, I’m not Amish.

  She glanced over at him as he hooked a hand into one side of his suspenders, deep in thought. The green of his shirt complemented the vivid green of his eyes. Ach, he was handsome in his Amish clothing. For sure and for certain.

  He might look Amish on the outside, but on the inside he was Englisch. Raised that way. Living that way. Jah, the look on the outside was important to a girl. But just as important, even more so perhaps, was the inside. A man’s standing before Gott.

  His gut qualities made for quite a long list. Many qualities her own daed and mamm would approve of.

  “Jedediah Miller.” It was a whisper as she examined the envelope.

  A warm hand rested on her sleeve. “What is it?”

  She looked up into John’s eyes, questioning and probing like she had a startled look on her face. She probably did.

  Mammi Mary pushed her chair back and stood, the sound of the scraping against the floor breaking the connection with John.

  Of course, it was foolish to think that he might consider returning to the Amish. She shouldn’t even entertain such a notion. His family had left the Amish church, and he had an important position within the Englisch community.

  She stood and moved next to Mammi Mary at the sink. “Let me wash those mugs, Mammi. You probably need to return to your booth.”

  Mary placed the cups in the sink and stepped toward the door. “Danki. I hope I have been helpful. Stop to say goodbye before you leave.”

  The cold water of the faucet hit her hands as John opened the door for Mammi Mary, bringing her back to the present day. Mary said danki for holding the door, and Sarah turned back to the sink, refusing to look at John. Ach, his Amish clothes looked so natural on him.

  But his caution as he opened the door invaded her daydream, a reminder of their danger. Not that she could forget that her life was at stake. Once he remembered who he was and returned to his job in his world, an event that surely would happen soon, he would be gone. Gone back to his police officer job that required the carrying of a weapon and an everyday potential for danger.

  And she would probably move, with Lyddie, back to Lancaster County and marry the man her mother had found for her. An Amish, peace-loving, nonviolent man who would never use a gun, except, maybe, to hunt for food to feed his family.

  If John was committed to his job that
involved violence, then he would never have any interest in becoming Amish. If she was committed to remaining within the Amish church, the only church and community she had ever known, then she would never have any interest in becoming Englisch. It was a tangle for them both.

  A tangle?

  Sarah shook her head to clear her thoughts, the white starched ties of her kapp swinging back and forth. There was no tangle. There was simply danger, evidenced by John’s hesitation at the door and his careful look outside. When it was over, John—Jed—would leave.

  It was better that way. Was it not?

  With a promise to stop at Mammi Mary’s booth on their way out, Sarah placed the mugs back in the cupboard and then lifted the curtain on the window just enough to check on Lightning. Dark clouds filled the sky and threatened overhead, and she was grateful that her church district drove enclosed buggies with storm fronts to hold back the wind and snow and keep at least a little of the cold out. It might make the upcoming drive a bit more comfortable.

  A shudder coursed through her, but it wasn’t anticipation of the cold this time. Gratitude for the enclosed buggy filled her for another reason—safety. She refused to let her mind wander to the targets she and John would be in an open cart.

  She turned back to the table to see John—Jed—fidgeting with the edge of the pie. Was he nervous about what he had learned? Did it not sit well, his name and occupation?

  “Was it a gut thing that we came here to see Mammi Mary? You know who you are now, jah?” Surely to discover one’s true identity after a case of amnesia would be a relief.

  “Yeah, it was good. But I wouldn’t say I know who I am. I have a name and an occupation, but nothing more. And even the name and occupation don’t feel familiar or right to me.”

  “Perhaps in time they will grow more comfortable.”

  Silence grew between them before John answered. “Maybe.”

  “What about your mamm and daed? We could contact them.”

  “You didn’t notice? There were no return addresses on the letters. But I can look for a David and Miriam Miller in Fort Wayne as soon as I have access to a computer.” He rose to check out the window, leaning near her to peer out the window from her direction. Was it truly just last night that she had thrown the boiling water in the face of the intruder and then run from her house? It was only a matter of time before he found them. That was the reason for John’s caution.

  Ach, he was so close. His scent of wood and sawdust tickled her nose. She needed a distraction from him, and fast.

  As he pulled away and returned to his seat, she cleared her throat. The last thing she wanted was to sound choked up or emotional over him. “What about your name? Do I call you Jedediah now? Or do you continue with John?”

  He looked at her and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he was in a situation that required such a choice. “Neither feel right. But I’ve become accustomed to John over the past couple of days. And it might be safer. Keep me incognito until I can remember more. Assuming the guys who are after us know my real name, I wouldn’t want them to hear you call me Jedediah and figure it out. It could put us in further danger.”

  “But you are in my brother’s clothing. That is not disguise enough?”

  * * *

  Her brother’s clothing. That’s all he was doing, wasn’t it? Playing dress-up?

  “I don’t know if it’s disguise enough, but I don’t want to take a chance.” John glanced at the clock, but he couldn’t remember what time they had arrived at the market. “We should move on. We’ve been here long enough.”

  A sigh trickled out of Sarah as she lifted the pie from the table and placed it in the refrigerator. “Jah. Let us remind Mammi Mary of her pie on our way out.”

  John placed his palms on the table, but as he pushed himself up to standing, his low-grade headache increased. He sank back to his chair, cradling his head in his hands.

  The sound of swishing skirts trickled to his ear, and he soon felt a gentle touch on his shoulder.

  “Are you remembering something?”

  He searched the darkness in his mind, but it was empty. “No, nothing more. But I wish I could. I have the feeling it would help us tremendously if I could just summon up the details.”

  “But we know your name and who your parents are. You are a police officer. That is something, jah?”

  “It’s not enough, though. There was another police officer in on the criminal activity, an officer higher in rank than I am. But who? I can’t contact my own precinct because I don’t know who’s dirty and who isn’t. I wouldn’t even know which police department to contact anyway. The shield was from Fort Wayne, but was it mine? Am I with the Fort Wayne Police Department, or is the other guy? Or are we both?” He sat upright and slapped his knee, the sting matching the angry heat that grew in his chest. “And what’s coming up? What event? I just wish I could figure out how it all ties together.”

  Sarah scooted a fraction of an inch away from him, casting him a sidelong glance.

  Defeat made him sag against the chair. His temper had gotten the best of him, and he’d disappointed Sarah. She didn’t need to say a word. Her body language spoke volumes to him. Anger was much more Englisch than Amish.

  “Gott will do what is His best will for you.”

  Whether she meant it as an admonition or not, Sarah’s quiet statement struck deep to his soul. Was he a believer, as he had speculated? It resonated within him, a yearning to know and praise God. If he was a believer, then God should be taking care of them, right? Certainly, Sarah had just said so. Was He? Was He there, looking at them both?

  Look at the evidence. John shifted in the chair. Was that his law-enforcement training kicking in? Or was that the revival of his faith instructing him to count his blessings? It didn’t matter where it came from as long as he followed through. He was still alive, even though he could have been killed, apparently a few times over, by now. He had survived the snowmobile crash and the rocks. He had lost his memory and suffered a few scrapes, but he was in safe hands, at least for the moment. He was not in the hands of the bad guys, whoever they were.

  So, what next? He was eager for a purpose, a plan that would help him to know and understand where he was going. This indefinitely temporary position in limbo was unnerving at best, maddening at worst. He couldn’t traipse about the countryside, hiding from place to place, pretending to be Amish for the foreseeable future, no matter how fetching the Amish woman was beside him.

  TEN

  Sarah collected her cape and bonnet from the chair. “We have the information we were seeking. Is it time to go?”

  John simply nodded and grabbed his coat and hat. He paused at the door and opened it slowly. Sarah stood behind him, stretching to her tiptoes to see over his shoulder.

  “It looks clear.”

  But as John opened the door further, Sarah gasped to see the crowd of customers gathered at Mammi Mary’s. It seemed that everyone in the market had decided to shop at her booth.

  Mammi Mary turned toward her money box and locked gazes with Sarah. A wide smile pushed the wrinkles aside. “Sarah, can you help?”

  Sarah pushed gently on John’s shoulder to urge him from the break room. “Just for a few minutes, John? The income is so important, and it is a gut crowd.”

  John agreed, and Mammi Mary turned back to her customer. Sarah quickly stashed her outer garments under the nearest table and rose to see a familiar face. “Wilkom, Mrs. Granger. How may I help you?”

  The customer leaned to the right and seemed to make a deliberate point of noticing John, who stood a few steps behind Sarah. “Good afternoon, Sarah. You’re here with a gentleman friend, today?” Her bright red lips that matched her bright red blouse curled into a knowing smile, and the earrings that dangled to her shoulders shook their agreement.

  Heat leaped into Sarah’s cheeks. It was
not the first time someone had tried to make a match, and she knew Mrs. Granger’s intentions were honorable. But right in front of John? She needed to downplay the situation right fast. “He is helping to carry the boxes today.”

  “Mmm-hmm. If you say so.” The customer prattled on as she picked up jars to examine the labels. “I shared some of the pumpkin butter with my book club last week, and they just went wild. So, I want some more of that. And my Harold loves jalapeño jelly. I could never stomach the spicy stuff, but he just spreads it thick on a cracker and gobbles it down.” She laughed at herself, her earrings bobbling with mirth, as well.

  “I am glad you like Mrs. Miller’s preserves.” Sarah darted a look around, suddenly aware of the number of people there. What if their pursuers were hiding in the crowd? She rubbed her hands together to keep them from shaking.

  “Last week, and the week before, and the week before, I looked at the chowchow. And I think I’m ready to try it. Do you have any today?”

  Sarah turned to look through Mammi Mary’s jars on the shelf and found John surveying the crowd. The intensity of his vigilance soothed her somewhat. She found two jars of chowchow and forced her mind on the income that Mammi Mary so desperately needed.

  Mrs. Granger grasped the jar, her red-painted fingernails a contrast to the yellow of the chowchow. “Now, what is in this? Mary told me last week, but I just can’t remember.”

  “It is a pickled relish. Chopped pickles, seasoned mustard, fresh vegetables from the garden.” Sarah placed the other jar of chowchow on the table.

  “And what do I do with it?” Mrs. Granger twisted the jar over and around, watching the yellow-orange, thick and gooey substance slosh inside.

  “Whatever you want—hamburgers or beans. My little girl likes it on her mashed potatoes.”

  The customer pressed her lips together as she considered the chowchow. “Okay, I’ll try it. And I have these others, as well.” She dug around in her sizeable leather purse and brought out two twenty-dollar bills to hand over to Sarah.