Broken Butterfly

by Cindy Patterson

  “The shop is just around the corner.” Thomas’s deep voice tugged her from her perilous thoughts. “I’ll be right here in this building.”

  These two people had kept Mallory hidden for all this time. She’d never be able to repay their kindness, but this small thing she could do. “I’ll be fine.”

  Mallory caught on to the art of quilting and had already finished one in her spare time. The first week at the shop was successful. She carried ten orders home to Mary.

  “I’ve been looking forward to quilting all day.” Mary clasped her hands together. “I feel so useless lying around, unable to do anything.”

  Thomas walked into the living room, his arms loaded with quilting supplies. “Yer doin’ plenty takin’ care of that boppli.”

  Mallory sat on the couch next to Mary. “Maybe I should work tomorrow. Saturday’s are good, I mean gut shopping days, ain’t so?” She laughed with Mary at her Southern-Pennsylvania Dutch.

  “I knew it would be gut for you.”

  At the shop Saturday morning, Mallory’s first customer walked in and regarded her with faint recognition. Mallory bit her lower lip.

  What if Jake hired some locals to help him find her? That’s impossible.

  “Good afternoon. I wanted to purchase a quilt for Christmas. Do you have material samples I could look through?”

  “Jah.” Mallory tried to control the quiver in her voice. She clutched her elbows, the lie of pretending to be an Amish girl smoldering. Even after practicing for over a month, Mallory’s Dutch dialect sounded nothing like that of her friends, Mary and Thomas. Did the lady live here or was she visiting? It was hard to tell. Her Pennsylvania accent wasn’t as strong as others.

  Grabbing the sample book, Mallory placed it in front of her. The lady skimmed through the pages and once finished, Mallory had the quilt designed—the colors beautiful together.

  “I’ll start on this immediately.”

  The woman narrowed her gaze. “What’s your name, dear?”

  An uneasy feeling settled in the deepest corners of Mallory’s mind. She tried to cover the southern accent. It was impossible. “Elizabeth.”

  “That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. You may call me Ms. Margie.”

  Heat flushed her cheeks at the unexpected compliment.

  “Danki,” she told her, remembering the word for thank you.

  “How long will it take to finish one this size?”

  “A couple of weeks at the most, ma’am.” Mallory slipped on her accent.

  The lady didn’t seem to notice. “Great, I may stop in occasionally to peek, if that’s okay?”

  “Y…jah, of course. Wiegeht’s.”

  The lady left, the bell jingling as it closed shut. Mallory breathed out.

  A few minutes later, she stepped outside to get some fresh air and closed the door behind her. She searched the area, careful to keep her face covered with the wrap she wore on her shoulders. A couple walked hand and hand, laughing and talking as they disappeared around the corner.

  Mallory tightened her arms around her waist. How she missed her friends!

  Her eyes burned as memories rushed through her mind. Though Jake hadn’t found her yet, he controlled her life. She turned to walk back into the shop and glanced at the plain blue dress she wore—her disguise. She had to pretend to be something she wasn’t. Would she ever be truly free?

  Twenty-Five

  On a late November morning, Mallory walked into the kitchen ready to leave to help with a neighbor’s barn-raising.

  “I’d really like to go.” Mary sat at the table, chin in her hands. “My blood pressure’s better. I promise not to overdo it.”

  Thomas grabbed his hat off the wall hook. “I think it would be wise to visit only.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and bent to kiss the top of her head. “Ich liebe dich.”

  “Yah, I know.” Mary took his hand. “Me too.”

  Mallory loved hearing them speak the words, I love you.

  As she followed the sweet family outside, an unseasonably warm breeze rustled through the fallen leaves, a welcome change after the morning frost.

  Climbing into the back of the horse-drawn buggy, Mallory sat next to Abigail. The small child took her hand with a gentle, trusting touch, her soft fingers bringing a rush of heartache. If only her mama would’ve loved her. A few buggies already filled the Yoder’s yard when they arrived, and Thomas parked, helped them down, and headed toward the barn.

  Mallory followed Mary inside, the scent of baked apples and cinnamon filling the kitchen.

  Mary opened the screen door. “Gut morgen. Hannah, this is Elizabeth.”

  “Gut-morning to you, too.” Hannah reached for Mallory’s hand. “It’s wunderbaar to have you with us.”

  “Danki.” Mallory accepted her outstretched hand.

  “You’re not from around here? Ain’t so?”

  “She’s visitin’.” Mary winked at Mallory and moved toward the stove. Lifting a lid from the pot, she inhaled deeply. “It smells wunderbaar. What will you have us do?”

  Hannah led them to the pantry and handed Mary a bag of flour. “I need about fifty biscuits.”

  Mallory gawked as more women entered. The large room filled quickly. She couldn’t believe all these people came to help one family. Mary and Mallory worked together to form the dough and cut one-inch circles through it. After the biscuits were prepared for baking, they helped cut potatoes, peel carrots, and shell peas.

  Once finished with lunch preparations, Hannah moved next to Mallory. “Elizabeth, do you mind serving?”

  “Nein, not at all.” She smiled, despite the heaviness in her heart. She was living a lie.

  Mallory followed two young girls through the screen door, her hands filled with a tray of fried chicken. The girls each carried a tray of lemonade to the table and then chased each other to the back door, their bonnet straps flapping in the wind.

  Men stood on the wooden beams already nailed in place. A smile came to her lips as she searched the crowd, the men working each on their own task. She stopped in her tracks halfway across the yard. Paul pounded a hammer at the corner of the barn. Why hadn’t she thought about him being here? Her blood ran cold when Eric stepped into the space next to him.

  Turning quickly, she rushed back inside, nearly dropping the platter.

  Hannah met her at the door. “Ach, are you all right?”

  “I’m not feeling well.”

  “Is there something I can do?”

  Mallory set the platter on the counter. “Maybe I need to lie down.” Flashes of dots filled her vision. “I’m feeling dizzy.”

  “Jah, of course. Follow me. Martha, can you carry the chicken out for Elizabeth?” Hannah led her to a room upstairs.

  “I’m so sorry.” Mallory followed her up the narrow stairway. The thought of Eric being this close buckled her knees. “Maybe it will pass.”

  “There’s plenty of people helping. You rest up. Can I get you something?”

  “Nein, danki.”

  Hannah left, closing the door behind her. Mallory trembled as she moved toward the window and pressed against the glass separating her from Eric.

  She searched the crowd of men until her gaze rested on him. The one dressed in blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and baseball cap. She stared heaving. How she wanted to go to him, to tell him the truth. But Jake was too dangerous. She couldn’t risk a confrontation between him and Eric. Studying his mouth, she could still taste his lips all these months later. Eric disappeared around the corner, and she sighed. It would be a long day.

  On Monday morning, Mallory returned to the quilt shop, her spirit heavy. The door bell jingled, and Andrew walked in.

  Mallory straightened a pack of material, ignoring his unyielding gaze. “You have to stop coming. What if someone sees you?”

 
; He leaned against the counter. “You can’t hide in this quilt hole forever. That friend of yours is long gone.”

  Mallory narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know Jake. He won’t give up. If you hear anything, you must tell me.”

  “You told me to stop coming.” The familiarity of his voice soothed like an embrace.

  She dropped her face into her hands. “I miss you. I miss everyone.”

  “I wish you’d come back. Everyone’s so worried, especially Rachel.”

  It was only a matter of time. Jake would find her again, he always did. But she would keep pushing forward until her time ran out.

  Eric took a deep breath before ringing the Chamberlain’s doorbell. Sebastian opened the front door and moved to the side, so Eric could enter.

  “He shouldn’t be long. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Eric waited in the foyer. Mr. Chamberlain’s office door stood ajar, and voices seeped through. The faint sound of a girl’s voice filtered through the doorway.

  Had Mallory come back?

  His yearning pushed him forward, closer. The voices grew more intense. The girl’s accent was wrong. It wasn’t Mallory, but Victoria. The disappointment had no time to settle before her words reached his ears.

  “It was too easy.” Victoria chuckled. “Aunt Nancy moved here from Charlotte and seeing Mallory’s tattoo, I started with the local parlors. And lucky me, that’s where I found her husband.”

  “You went to North Carolina and told this man how to find her? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  “It isn’t my fault she’s a liar. I was only trying to help.” Victoria’s tone verged back to her normal whine. “She’s dirt poor and probably robbing you blind. Can’t you see that?”

  “You allowed your jealousy to destroy this girl’s life. I know little about her past, nor is it any of my business. God gave her a new beginning, and you snatched it away. No one has seen or heard from her, and this Jake fellow is on the loose now. We don’t even know if he’s found her.”

  Eric’s lungs stilled, and he gasped for his next breath.

  “She was hiding something.”

  Mr. Chamberlain’s voice rose. “She was afraid for her life.”

  “How can you take her side? I’m your niece. She’s nobody to us.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, she’s part of this family, and she always will be. You better pray she’s all right.”

  “No. I hope he finds her and takes her back where she belongs.”

  “Pack your things, Victoria. You’re no longer welcomed in my home.”

  The voices faded and Victoria snatched the door open. “I don’t need your help. I have my mother and Ms. Matthews …” Her face paled as she stumbled past Eric. She rolled her eyes and stormed away.

  My mother?

  Mr. Chamberlain approached Eric and put a hand on his shoulder. “How much did you hear?”

  “Enough.” He staggered backward, inhaling a deep gulp of warm air that hung in the foyer.

  “I’m sorry, son. I had no idea,” Mr. Chamberlain said, his voice hoarse.

  “Where did she find him?”

  “Charlotte, North Carolina.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Eric turned to leave. He would ask Paul for a few days off. What if Jake found her, had taken her?

  What if he was too late?

  Eric’s thoughts became a blind, numbing trance as he drove down the country lanes, slower than usual. The weight of all he learned stripped the air from his lungs, and warning bells rang in his ears.

  He walked in the door and found his mother on the phone.

  “I need to speak to you. Now.”

  She turned, eyebrows raised. “Eric is vying for my attention. I’ll talk to you soon.” Averting her gaze, she lifted a magazine from the table and sat in her recliner. “That’s certainly rude. I taught you better than that.”

  “Mother, please tell me you didn’t have a part in Victoria’s plan.”

  “What plan? Unless you mean persuading Victoria to not give up on your relationship. Why are you concerning yourself with that maid?” Her tone sharpened. “She isn’t the kind of girl you should be associating with.”

  “It’s true?” Eric’s jaw muscle tightened. “How could you?”

  “I’m only doing what’s best for you.”

  Slamming his hand against his thigh, he moved toward her chair. “What’s best for me? You don’t have a clue what’s best for me. That’s always your excuse isn’t it, Mother? Well no more. I’m moving out. I’m going to find her.”

  “Be realistic, Eric.”

  “You have no idea what you’ve done. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you if something happens to her. It’s up to you, Mother, whether you ever see me again.” He ran upstairs and threw a few things in a suitcase. He hurried down stairs and slammed the door behind him.

  “Son, you come back here.” The screeching sound of his mother’s voice tore through the closed door.

  He sped down the narrow lane.

  Eric burst into Paul’s office, rubbing the back of his neck. “Victoria brought Jake here.”

  Paul stood. “What?”

  “My mother helped her.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Victoria and her mother have been coming to the house, but I had no idea what they were up to.”

  Paul’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean your mother helped her?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I need to go to North Carolina.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s where I’ll find Jake and possibly Mallory. Victoria went to North Carolina searching for information about Mallory. She found Jake. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. That’s where she has to be. What if I hadn’t overheard Victoria talking to Mr. Chamberlain?”

  “He knew about this?”

  “He just found out. I can’t believe this.” Eric fell into the chair, his head back. How could his own mother do this to Mallory—to him?

  Paul’s face flushed.

  “What is it?”

  “What if Jake isn’t there?” Paul stepped around his desk. “What if he’s still here?”

  “It’s been over two months. I have to at least try. I’ve got to do something. I can’t take this anymore. I’m moving out.”

  “She kicked you out?”

  “No, I’m not going back. I can’t. Not now. Not knowing what she’s done.”

  “Take as much time as you need. And you can stay with me when you return. I have plenty of room.”

  “The construction is moving as projected. I’ll only take a few days.” He shook Paul’s hand. “Thanks, man.”

  Once Eric arrived in Charlotte, he started with the local women’s shelter. He didn’t expect to find out much, but would ask his questions face to face. Entering the address in his GPS, he followed the directions to the only one listed in the phone book.

  When he reached the shelter, he took a deep breath. He trudged through the overgrown weeds that had long died from the cold weather. Painted cement stairs led him to the front door.

  After two knocks, a woman peeked from behind a curtain, her blonde hair slipping through. “Who is it?”

  “I need information about a girl that might’ve stayed here.”

  “We don’t give out information about our residents.”

  “I understand, but she’s in danger.” Eric leaned against the dirty, white house, praying for a miracle. “The man, her husband, found her. And no one has seen her since.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. But we have to follow the rules for everyone’s safety.”

  “Her name is Mallory.” Eric paused, voicing her name sliced like a jagged edge. “When she looks at you with her deep brown eyes, you get lost in them.” He waited, seeing Mallory’s fac
e like a perfect vision in his memory. “She lived with a woman named Nancy.” Biting back the urge to force the woman to open the door and talk to him, he drew in a breath of cold air. “I’m in love with her.”

  “I’m sorry.” The curtain fell back into place. “She isn’t here.” Her whispered words were like salt on an open wound. Of course she wouldn’t be here.

  A whooshing sound rushed through his ears. “You know her?”

  “I haven’t seen him, either.” The woman’s blonde tendrils disappeared. “He owns a tattoo shop across town.”

  Eric inhaled, hearing the suffocating truth—Mallory had stayed here.

  Mallory left the shop at five. Andrew sat on the wooden bench out front, waiting for her. She studied his face. “What are you doing here?”

  “I felt bad for the way I treated you yesterday.”

  Mallory scanned the area—searching each face. “You didn’t do anything. I appreciate you stopping by. I wish things could be different.”

  “Quit worrying. If I didn’t know, I would’ve never recognized you.”

  “Really?” She pressed her white apron against the dark blue dress. “Mary has no mirrors, so I can’t see what I look like.”

  “You’re as pretty as ever.”

  She blushed and punched Andrew lightly in the arm. “Quit teasing me, and you still shouldn’t be seen with me. Someone might notice and start asking questions.”

  “You even sound almost Amish.” Andrew took her hand. “I think you should at least talk to Rachel.”

  If only I could.

  “Thanks for checking on me. Thanks for everything. I’ve got to go. Thomas will be wondering where I am.”

  “Okay, but I’ll be back to see you, whether you like it or not.”

  Mallory gave him a quick hug. “Take care of them for me, okay?”

  Margie walked through the door moments after Mallory arrived Wednesday. “Good afternoon, Elizabeth. I hope you don’t mind me stopping by already. I needed to get away from that house.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I get lonesome.”

  Mallory smiled, not speaking. It was safer that way.