Broken Butterfly

by Cindy Patterson

  He moved closer and wrapped his fingers around her shoulder. “Yeah, I said they started at fifty. You’ll just have to pay me some other way.”

  She swallowed hard and glanced toward the door. If she ran, she could beat him.

  His hand slid down her arm. “Hold on now, don’t get all worked up. You can come in on Saturdays and help me around here, until your debt is paid in full.”

  “Really, you’ll let me do that?”

  “Of course, baby doll. Just don’t stand me up or I’ll come lookin’ for you. And believe me, I could never forget your beautiful face.”

  Mallory nodded.

  “And please, call me Jake.” He took her hand and kissed her fingers.

  Though his arms and neck were covered in tattoos, his face was gorgeous, but his good looks did nothing to release the vile of slithering chills emerging across her skin.

  Moments later, a soft tapping on the door made her jump.

  “Come in.” Her whispered words rough.

  Mary stepped into the room. “Did you have a gut sleep?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Mary sat on the edge of the bed. “I spoke with Thomas and he’s agreed to let you stay. You’re my friend and a close friend of Paul’s aldi.”

  Mallory had never heard the word. She had to be speaking of Rachel.

  “We thought since you want to keep your whereabouts secret, we could tell folks you’re a friend from Ohio. If you’re comfortable dressin’ plain, I thought you could wear these.” Mary handed her several plain dresses, a few aprons, and a white kapp.

  No one would recognize her dressed in the long, simple dresses and her hair tightened in a bun.

  “Thank you so much. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but you are a godsend. Just yesterday, the doctor put me on bed rest.” Mary rubbed her swollen belly. “I haven’t been feeling too gut lately. Thomas insisted I go to an English doctor. My blood pressure’s up.”

  Mallory straightened. “Is the baby going to be all right?”

  “Jah, he suggested I take it easy. Bed rest should help, prob’ly.”

  “I’ll help you clean. Sebastian, Marla, and Nancy…” she whimpered at the mention of them. That life was over now. She would never be able to return. Not with Jake in Paradise searching for her. “They taught me a few things about cooking. I’m a fast learner.”

  “So, ya see. It’s wunderbaar gut. God sent you just when I needed some help.”

  Mallory had a hard time believing God had a hand in this, but she wasn’t in North Carolina with Jake this morning. She was in this young Amish woman’s home, where she felt God’s presence. But how long could she hide here—how long before Jake found her?

  “I’ll leave you to dress.” Mary closed the door behind her.

  Mallory stood by the window, staring ahead. The house was at least a quarter of a mile from the road. Jake would never think to look for her in an Amish home. She had to trust that. It was her only hope.

  A few minutes later, Mallory walked down the creaking stairs. The aroma of strong coffee, bacon, and cinnamon seeped up the narrow steps.

  At the bottom, Mary’s little girl stared up at her with lips poked out, eyes crinkled. “Good morning, Abigail.”

  She took the young girl’s hand and squeezed it gently as she struggled to breathe evenly.

  “Hullo.” The child smiled and skipped away, her brown dress bouncing.

  When Mallory reached the kitchen, Mary sat at the table.

  “Breakfast is ready. Thomas fixed us something this morning. Sit down and eat up. You must be starving. You went to bed so early, you skipped supper.”

  “Thank you.” Mallory sat on the wooden bench and pushed the eggs and bacon around with her fork. Her stomach growled, but nausea overruled everything else, battling for control. Her head pounded and her body ached from lying in the hard bed so long.

  Mallory reluctantly took a bite when Abigail skipped into the kitchen and sat down across from her. “This is very good, thank you.”

  “Why are ya talkin’ so funny?” Abigail propped her elbows on the table.

  “Abigail Yoder, you don’t go around asking such questions of your neighbors. It isn’t proper-like. Why don’t you run outside and feed the kittens for me.”

  Abby’s round cheeks blushed, and she scurried out the door quicker than Mallory had ever seen a little girl run.

  “I’m sorry. She’s probably confused after seeing me a few weeks ago.”

  “Jah, don’t worry yourself none about Abby. She’s a gut girl.”

  Mary finished cleaning the kitchen and sat down with a cup of coffee.

  Abigail bounded through the back door. “I fed the kittens to overflowin’.”

  Her heartfelt smile lifted Mallory’s spirit.

  “If you have a cookbook, I’ll do the best I can with the meals.” She blinked back tears, determined to be useful. “And you, young lady, will have to be my assistant. Your mother needs her rest, so she’ll be counting on us to take over. Do you think you can help me, Miss Abigail?”

  A wide grin covered her entire face. “Jah, I can help ya, gut.”

  Mary handed her a cookbook. “I can already see it’s going to be so nice having you here.”

  “Why don’t you rest while we girls get started on the chores?” Mallory winked at the little girl. “I’m sure she’ll be able to tell me what needs to be done.”

  Abigail stood taller. “Mamm, I can tell her everything.”

  Mary took the child’s hands in both of hers. “Jah, I know you will.”

  Missing those moments with her mother were the hardest. There were no affectionate touches—no kisses on the forehead.

  Mallory shook her head. Not here. Not now.

  They started with the kitchen then stripped the beds, and had lunch on before Mallory had a chance to walk outside.

  The trees had turned to multiple shades of orange, yellow, and red. Mallory moved toward the garden to gather some vegetables. Stooping with her basket, she picked a few carrots, onions, and dug out some potatoes. She inhaled the aroma of fresh soil as a perfect picture of Eric flashed in her memory.

  How could I have been so stupid?

  She thought of the kiss they shared—the kiss that probably meant nothing to him. The embrace she witnessed between Eric and Victoria in the church parking lot was more than friends would share. And the very next week he was holding her hand. She only saw what she wanted to see. And she had been wrong about everything.

  Mallory shook her head. She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on it—on what would never be. She had to move forward. To protect herself from Jake. It would be easy to allow this situation to control her as it had so many times. She wouldn’t allow the depression to take root. Not this time.

  Twenty-Three

  Eric drove to the Chamberlain’s first thing Tuesday morning, pleading with God that Mallory had come home. His argument with Andrew had gotten him nowhere. Mr. Chamberlain and Sebastian insisted he leave.

  Eric pressed the bell, the image of the red truck still playing in his mind.

  Sebastian opened the door and Eric moved toward him. “Please tell me she came home.”

  “I’m sorry, but she’s not here. We haven’t heard from her.”

  Stepping back, he leaned against the pillar. Unable to restrain the dread that threatened to envelop him, he gripped his keys harder.

  Sebastian placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, sir. This is a tragedy to be sure.”

  “Where’s Andrew?”

  “We don’t want any trouble. We’re all upset and the last thing we need is you two fighting.”

  Andrew knew more than he led them to believe. Eric needed answers and Andrew was going to tell him what he kne
w. He had replayed their conversation over and over in his mind last night, unable to sleep. “I don’t want to fight. I just need to speak to him.”

  Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. “Come in and have a seat. I’ll get him.”

  Eric crossed the threshold and Andrew stood near the stairs as if he’d been waiting.

  “What’re you doing here?” Andrew’s cold voice offered no comfort of getting any closer to finding out the truth.

  Eric exhaled. “You know what happened and I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

  “You’re the one who’s hiding something. I’ve already told you everything I know.”

  Eric stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You’ve told me nothing.” The hollow feeling in his gut wrenched into a sharp pain. “What did she say yesterday when you found her?”

  “She didn’t say anything, she cried. She was devastated. It didn’t make sense, but now I know …” He stopped before finishing.

  He wanted to grab him and shake the truth from him. “Know what?”

  “Why are you so worried about Mallory anyway? With you and Victoria getting so serious, you should be focusing on her.”

  “What’re you talking about? We were never more than friends.” His veins burned with each stab of Andrew’s accusations.

  Sebastian stood near the dining room doors watching.

  Andrew stood taller. “That’s the same thing you told her. But what about the game?”

  “What about it? We went to a Phillies’ game.” He remembered the lie about their supposed engagement. Had Victoria said something about that weekend?

  “And you spent the night together.” Andrew spit the words out.

  Eric stared at him wide-eyed. “Are you crazy? We had separate rooms.” He swallowed, irritation climbing up his throat. “Did Victoria tell her that? Where is she?”

  “Victoria isn’t here. She’s been gone all week. And she isn’t the liar. You are.”

  He balled his hands into tight fists. “Tell me what happened. I’m going crazy.” Grabbing his head with both hands, he yanked his fingers through his hair. “Please, if you know anything, you have to tell me.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” Andrew turned.

  Eric reached for Andrew’s shirt, but stopped. Letting his hand fall, he staggered back. He would be no help to Mallory locked up. Unanswered questions devoured him. With shoulders slumped, he left through the front door. What reason would Andrew have to lie?

  Weeks flew by as Mallory woke each morning at the break of dawn, milked cows, cleaned, and cooked for Mary’s family. The new recipes, the homemade taste of everything, were different, better. She fell into bed every evening, exhausted.

  Mallory worked hard to keep her broken heart and fear from Mary and Abigail. But no matter how she tried, images of Eric assaulted her memory … the way he made her feel. She thought of the play. How could she have ever thought he had feelings for her? She hadn’t imagined Sunday at Hershey Park. It was real. But none of it mattered. She couldn’t come between the two of them. Victoria was carrying his child. Things were different now.

  Jake had found her and wouldn’t stop until he took her home. She would never be safe.

  Mallory walked to the garden to gather vegetables for canning, staying out of sight from the front. She had trouble focusing on the carrots as she plucked them from the ground.

  Abigail squatted next to her. “Can I help?”

  “Of course you can.” She stifled a sob. “I need all the help I can get.”

  “Why does mamm call you Elizabeth?” The child crossed her arms and puckered her lips.

  “It’s my middle name. It sounds Amish, huh?”

  “I guess so.” She stood and twisted back and forth, her dress spinning, before she sat back down. “I like it.”

  Mallory moved to the row of broccoli. “This is one of my favorite vegetables. Does your mama, uh, your mamm ever put cheese on it?”

  “Cheese? What kind? Goat or cow?”

  “I’m not sure.” Her handful of broccoli blurred as her eyes glazed. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Sebastian always used Velveeta.”

  The skin between Abigail’s eyebrows crinkled. “Is that your cow’s name?”

  Mallory laughed. Peace settled all the way to her soul. “No, I don’t have a cow.”

  Abigail frowned and shook her head. “I can share Molly with you.”

  “Thank you, Abby.”

  Abigail stood, clasping her hands together. “Mamm is teaching you to quilt today.”

  “I know. I’m so excited.” Mallory dropped a few stalks of broccoli into the basket. “I can’t wait to put together all the pretty fabrics we picked out.”

  “Daad says darker colors are better, but I love pink and green.”

  Mallory wrapped an arm around Abigail. “Me too.”

  She had fallen in love with this child. Her heart clenched in agony over her own mama. The same question had filled her mind thousands of times.

  What made Mama hate me?

  Did she regret giving her away? Did Mama ever think of her? She wouldn’t recognize the woman if she ran into her today. Would her mama recognize her?

  Mary handed her a needle and thread. “Here we go. Your first quilting lesson.”

  Mallory winked at Abigail.

  “My quilt shop in town has been stranded for months since Thomas made me quit when we found out we were having another boppli.” She glanced at her husband sitting in the rocking chair.

  He raised his head, his eyes soft. “She shouldn’t be working all day in her condition. And I was right. Ain’t so?”

  “Probl’y, but I can’t wait to get back.”

  He pushed his feet out in front of him. “With two of ‘em rummagin’ through the house, I don’t see how you’ll manage.”

  “Jah, we’ll see. I’ve been talkin’ to Elizabeth about helpin’.”

  Mallory hadn’t learned anything yet. What if she was no good at quilting?

  “Ruth came over this afternoon with a pan of fresh bread and a large pot of bean soup. I thought we’d give Elizabeth a break and eat it for lunch on the morrow.”

  “Gut, she’s been workin’ hard.” Thomas stood from his rocking chair. “I best be gettin’ back to work.” He turned to Mallory. “We truly appreciate all your help.”

  She stole a peek in Thomas’ direction, cheeks warming as a weak smile arose.

  The instructions for the quilting started and three hours passed before they took a break. Her finger was numb from the dozen finger pricks.

  Mary stood and stretched. “I knew you’d be a natural.”

  The smile was sincere, her heart truly thankful, but how would she ever be able to go into town? Jake couldn’t still be in jail.

  Eric settled into a new routine of working late to keep his mind busy. He drove by Mallory’s apartment every night on his way home from work. What could have happened to her?

  It didn’t add up. Nothing made sense.

  Victoria drove into their driveway early Saturday morning before he’d had a chance to leave.

  She sashayed toward him. “Eric, it’s so good to see you. Your mother invited us for brunch.” Drawing nearer, her smile widened. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

  He eased by her. “I was just leaving.”

  “What’s your rush? It’s been awhile since we spent time together.”

  “It’s not a good idea.”

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “Because of that weirdo? Why are you so interested in her? She’s a lowly maid that doesn’t deserve you.” Victoria took his hand. “Besides, you and I could be great together.”

  He snatched his fingers from her grasp. “What’s wrong with you? You just assume you’re better than everyone else.”

  “Your mother agrees with me.” Victo
ria lifted her chin. “Besides, you’re wasting your time. She’s long gone, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Eric slammed his fist on the hood of his truck and Victoria stumbled back. “I hope you enjoy spending time with my mother. I should’ve known you’d have a lot in common. And don’t ever talk about Mallory that way again.”

  He jumped in his truck and sped off, leaving Victoria standing in his trail of dust.

  Twenty-Four

  The days of October disappeared as cooler mornings led them into the first days of November. Mallory sat near the window watching the breeze bounce leaves across the yard.

  Mary stretched back against the couch, her round belly protruding over her thighs. “How would you feel about running the shop a few hours in the afternoon until Christmas?”

  Mallory glanced up from her book. “In town?”

  Mary shifted and stretched out farther. “Thomas will be in the building next door if you have any trouble.”

  Mallory’s stomach wrenched at the thought of being out in public. “What about you and all the cooking and cleaning?”

  “I’ve already taken care of that. My friend Sarah’s comin’ in the afternoons to help.”

  “I don’t know.” Mallory grasped the book tighter. “I don’t talk like you. People will know I’m not really Amish.”

  “That’s kischblich-silly. And you are talking more like us every day.”

  “I don’t know most of the words you use.”

  Mary’s low chuckle echoed against the plain brown walls as she stood and wobbled toward her. “No matter. You need to get out of this house.”

  “I’m just not sure.”

  Mary patted her hand. “It will do you gut, jah?”

  Monday afternoon, Mallory smoothed her tight bun and pinned the white kapp in place. It had been almost two months since she’d seen a mirror, but surely no one would recognize her in the plain dress. Moments later, she held her breath as she climbed into the buggy.

  She kept her gaze down, her pulse quickening when they neared town. Her muscles tightened as her feet made contact with the sidewalk.