by Leanna Ellis
He swallowed his heart, which had lurched into his throat. “Danke.”
Laying down the ax, he wiped his sweaty palms on the back of his trousers, then swiped a sleeve over his brow. He gulped down the tart liquid, which left a surprising sweetness on his tongue.
“You were thirsty,” Naomi noted with satisfaction. “I’ll come back later to collect the tray and bring you more lemonade.”
“Why don’t you take a break yourself?” He spoke before he thought, but he realized he didn’t want to be alone with his questions and insecurities anymore. Company would at least distract him. And maybe this was the moment he’d been searching for. “Surely, you could use a snack too. I know you’ve been working hard in the house.”
She eyed the whitewashed home. “The babies are napping, as are Hannah and Levi. Maybe it would be good to stay out of the house so I don’t wake them.”
Samuel flipped over an empty plastic bucket for Naomi to use as a seat, and he plopped himself down on the ground next to the chopping block, feeling bits of wood chips beneath his trousers.
“Hannah’s been wearing herself out fussing over Levi,” Naomi said. “But he seems to be healing in good time.”
“It’s good to see them again. To see them both happy.”
“They are sweet together,” Naomi agreed.
Samuel reached for a blueberry muffin. He peeled the muffin paper off the bottom, and crumbs flaked around him. The little cake was fluffy and light, and the sweet berries burst inside his mouth. “Mmm,” he mumbled. “This is good.”
Naomi smiled and crunched into an apple slice. “I’m glad you like them.”
He nodded as he finished off the muffin. “It’s good you’re here to help out. It’s lots of work though.”
“Taking care of the babies doesn’t feel like work at all. It’s a pleasure.”
For a moment silence settled between them. But it was a comfortable silence, like sitting by a fire in the cool evening. Despite the tension Samuel felt with Levi, he was glad to be home in Promise again. He’d missed his old district and his friends and extended family more than he’d allowed himself to realize.
Had he missed Naomi too? When he’d been younger and visited Naomi in the middle of the night, as many Amish did when they courted, he’d felt awkward and unsure. He’d been naïve to the ways of men and women, hadn’t known what to do or how to act. Andi had taught him what English women liked and the fine art of seduction. He was not the same boy who had attempted to court Naomi so long ago. He was a man now. Naomi was a woman, not the young girl he’d known, but she was plain. Not just in dress but in matters of the heart.
“You said you still write some?” he asked, trying to find any of the common ground they’d once shared.
“Not much, no. But sometimes words come to me in a prayer or poem.” She shrugged and chose a muffin.
“I liked your poetry. You should write more.”
“I have no one to read it to now.” Her eyes widened and locked with Samuel’s until she looked away. The telltale signs of embarrassment stole up her neck and flamed her cheeks. Was she remembering the quiet, tender moments they’d shared at the creek? Or was she embarrassed that she had no one to listen to the words of her heart?
“You could have written me in Ohio,” he said. “I would have liked that.”
She kept her head bent as she picked at the paper stuck to the muffin.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him, curiosity brightening her eyes. “For what?”
He shrugged. “For not writing you. I was never good that way.”
“You were better than you thought, Samuel.”
“It’s been three years since I’ve been back in Promise. A long time. I didn’t contact anyone. Not even my friends.”
She accepted his confession with a nod. “Paul will be happy to see you. As well as David and Eliam. You four were always together, like peas in a pod.”
He finished off the rest of the muffin. “And usually in trouble.”
She chuckled. “Not overmuch, I’m thinking.”
His head tilted as he studied the soft line of her jaw. “You were always quiet and good.”
A tinge of pink brightened her cheeks and she stared at her lap, twisting a tie of her kapp between her fingers.
At her silence, he regretted saying such. Maybe he’d said too much. Or maybe he hadn’t said enough. Doubting his motives and unsure of his intention, he changed the subject. “What’s Paul been up to? Has he found himself a girl yet?”
The color in her cheeks brightened even more. Was she seeing Paul? That jarred him until finally settling into irritation, even though he had no right to feel such. Amish teens tended to keep their affections to themselves. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean—”
“Oh no. It’s all right.”
“I shouldn’t have said—” He didn’t know what to say. “Sometimes I don’t know when to quit talking.” Like now.
“I’m the opposite. I never know what to say.”
He reached for another muffin. As he unwrapped the base, he said, “Someone has to be quiet, I expect, so those of us who blather on will have someone listening. But I have a feeling you’re busy thinking of things to write.”
Her eyes twinkled. “I always think of things to say in my head, but by the time I get them to my mouth, they jumble into a tangled mess, much like my knitting.”
He laughed and filled his mouth with part of another blueberry muffin.
She rubbed her thumb against the palm of her other hand in a back and forth motion as if trying to erase a thought that wouldn’t go away. “Samuel,” she spoke again, this time her tone somber. “I never had the chance to speak to you about…”
Her gaze met his, and her words trailed away. He braced himself for some confession that she was seeing Paul or one of his other friends.
She swallowed hard, licking her lips, before continuing. “About your brother…Jacob. I am awful sorry for your loss. And it’s probably too late to say anything. There’s nothing I could say to take away the pain, but I didn’t know how or when or…I should have written you maybe. Or maybe I shouldn’t have. And now maybe I should have just stayed silent and not said anything at all.”
Her words were rushed and breathless, and yet they wrapped about him, a soothing bandage on the wound in his heart. His throat tightened. Finally, he nodded his understanding.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to upset you by speaking of it and yet…” Her voice trailed off. He wished she would go on talking because now he couldn’t seem to find the necessary words. Finally, she added, “I have prayed for you.” An awkward pause hummed between them. “For your family.”
Emotions of the past three years rose up inside him. He’d hoped to forget or at least banish his questions, and all this had done was twist his tangled emotions into a tight knot in his belly.
Suddenly, she stood and dusted off her apron. “I better get back to work,” she said in a rush. She left the tray and hurried toward the house.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A noise startled her.
It wasn’t the first time she couldn’t sleep at two in the morning. Andi sat in her darkened apartment. Watching the doors and windows. Listening to creaks and noises from the street. Waiting. No one was ever going to surprise her again.
First, she muted the television, strained her ears to hear the noise. What had it been? Someone crying out? A bird? The screech of a tire? As a precaution, she folded her hand around the hilt of her semi-automatic weapon. Years ago, she’d bought the Beretta at a gun show. No guy was ever going to get the upper hand on her again. A single girl couldn’t be careless, which is why she carried pepper spray.
Good thing too. The spray worked on that loser who’d ganged up on poor Brydon.
She hoped the librarian was okay. She’d run for her Yaris and called 911, but she’d driven straight home. Good luck, buddy. You’re on your own.
To be certain the sound that woke her was of no significance, she crept toward the window and peered out at the parking lot. Nothing stirred. Cars were lined up neatly, with one Camry parked crookedly. Windows remained dark. Headlights off.
Slowly, she eased the blinds together and went back to the sofa. She hit the volume button on the remote, and voices floated over her. Images flickered past. She paid little attention to the television. It was just a distraction from the nightmares. And they’d been coming more often since that night a week ago.
As she’d run, leaving Brydon to fend for himself, she’d lost two of the books he’d given her, but she still had one. It sat ignored on the coffee table. She’d called the library a couple of days after they’d been attacked to check up on him, but when she’d asked for Brydon, the answering librarian had said, “Who?”
“Brydon.” She felt foolish because she didn’t know his last name. “He works there.”
“No one by that name works here.”
“He works at night.” Irritated at the stupid girl, Andi hung up and called later. But she’d received the same reaction.
Had she been duped? Who was Brydon? Not that she really cared. It didn’t matter anyway. Good riddance! She’d plopped the book on the coffee table and hadn’t given it or him another thought. Or had she?
Maybe she should at least take the book back to the library. No, she’d fumed. Served the guy right. He could pay an exorbitant library fee.
But now, her curiosity nudged her to reach for the book. Why had he wanted her to have this one? What had been the purpose? Was it a sex game book? What exactly had the pervert had in mind?
She snatched the book off the table and flipped open the cover only to have a folded piece of paper slide into her lap. She discovered it was a mimeographed newspaper article, one on each side of the page. Skimming the first, she read about a bunch of animals missing or killed in Lancaster County. Ho-hum. Was he trying to spook her? It would take more than that.
Flipping the paper, she felt her heart pounding as she read the second one.
Missing high school student Arianna Davenport has been found. After two weeks, she was discovered walking along Highway 27 in West Babylon near Walmart in a state of undress. After being checked at Good Samaritan Hospital, she was released to the care of her family. The emergency room doctor said that although slightly dehydrated, she was in good shape. He made no other comments as to her state of mind or what might have happened to the seventeen-year-old.
One of her classmates worried that Davenport had been abducted by a Satanic cult. Other sources, wishing to speak under the protection of anonymity, believed she had been involved with a vampire coven. When the teen went missing, her family had been featured on ABC, CNN, and FOXNews, where they showed pictures of their active high school senior who was a straight-A student, cheerleader, and volleyball player. Her family adamantly denied the teen ran away. They feared foul play. The police did too, yet they had the family and friends under close observation.
This morning the chief of police, Ryan Huldoon, conducted a press conference and said they would be speaking to Miss Davenport once she had rested and eaten.
Andi folded the article. What was that all about? Had Brydon wanted her to read that article? To have her nerves electrified? What was the point?
But her attention was drawn to the picture of the girl. She had wide eyes and an eerie expression, haughty and distant. Was the girl disturbed? Or had the girl truly been abducted? Did such things as vampire covens exist? It seemed preposterous, and yet she’d seen enough in her life that made her think anything was possible. Or was it?
And more than that—forget Brydon—why would Samuel be interested in things like this? Something had happened with his brother, something terrible enough to shake Samuel and his faith.
She remembered sleeping beside him several months ago, not long after his brother died, when he sat bolt upright in bed, muscles clenched, releasing a hoarse cry. Had he called his brother’s name?
“What’s wrong?” she’d asked sleepily, trying to snuggle against him.
A cold sweat coated his skin. He’d grunted and swung his feet to the floor.
“Samuel?”
“Go back to sleep.” His tone had been harsh. Or had he been distressed?
Scooping his crumpled shirt off the floor, she’d pulled it on and followed after him into the den. With the lights in her apartment out, and only the glimmer of a light from the parking lot shining through the open blinds, she couldn’t see much but his outline. He stood in front of the window, oblivious to the fact that he was naked, staring out and yet looking more inward.
She laid a hand against his bare back. “Samuel, can’t you tell—”
He’d shrugged off her touch. “Don’t. I’m—” But he’d stopped himself.
“What?”
He’d shuddered. Slowly, his gaze shifted toward her, dark and frightening. Not scaring her, but as if he were the one scared. “Do you believe in evil?”
“What do you mean? Like in the garden of good and—”
“Evil,” he injected. “Pure evil.”
Did he think he’d been tainted by something sinful? She knew the Amish viewed life in black and white. Maybe his religion was confusing him, making him think something she couldn’t fathom. Was he having guilt over their sexual relationship?
“Do you mean like sin?”
“More than that. Not just one man or woman, but humanity and beyond.”
“Like that man is inherently evil and all that bull—eh.” She’d stopped herself because Samuel hated cursing. “All that garbage?”
He didn’t answer. He simply looked at her, his gaze begging for an answer, relief, something she wasn’t sure she had to give.
She smoothed a hand over his shoulder trying to distract him. “I don’t know about humanity, but let’s go back to bed and we can talk about that man/woman thing. I have a question about—”
“Do you believe?”
“Okay. Okay.” No joking. Evil. What did he want to know exactly? “I think,” she ventured into this unknown realm, “people are basically screwed up. Heck, we all are. Blame your mother, your father, whoever. We’ve all been screwed one way or another. We’re all probably one push away from committing murder.”
“I’m not talking about why we do things. I’m talking about evil. As in Satan. Supernatural. Ghosts and demons and va—”
She’d laughed. It had burst out of her. Had he been about to say vampires? Or something else? She regretted her response now, but she’d wanted to get him off the weird topic and back to bed. It was late. She was tired. And who cared about that stuff anyway? “Look,” she’d said, “that stuff is just figments of our fertile imagination. Or some writer’s. Stories handed down. You know, like myths. Stephen King and Cujo. Come on, really?” She’d taken his hand. “Trust me, Samuel, I’ve seen every horror flick Hollywood ever made, and it’s all made-up stuff. It’s funny. You just had a bad dream, is all.”
He’d blinked and turned back to the window. That was the last time they’d ever spoken of the nightmares haunting him. And it wasn’t long after he’d told her he had things he had to work out. Alone.
So had he seen something supernatural? Had he experienced some of those missing animals back in Promise? Had he seen his brother’s ghost? Something had spooked him.
Leaning back into the sofa cushions, Andi tried once again to focus on Tom Cruise trying to save the world through some impossible mission. But her mind drifted off until it landed on her work friend, Skylar. The yoga instructor kept telling her about a psychic she claimed was really in tune with the supernatural and hereafter. Maybe she’d give this psychic a chance to explain things, and may
be even she could reach out to Samuel’s dead brother and give her some answers she could pass along to Samuel.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The day began at four.
Samuel worked Levi’s farm, feeding livestock, preparing fields. He ate meals with Levi (who made it to the table more often), Hannah (who often didn’t make it to the table because she had to feed one or both of the babies), and Naomi (who occasionally ended up the only one at the table with Samuel).
Today was that kind of day. Both babies were fussy, and Hannah stayed in the bedroom feeding one while Levi held the other, using a pillow to prop the child and relieve the pressure on his healing rib.
Naomi sat opposite Samuel at the kitchen table. It seemed too quiet between them, and he could hear himself chewing. But what did he have to say?
Thankfully, she passed him cheesy potatoes and asked, “Will you be working in the fields again this afternoon?”
He shook his head and swallowed a bite of roll. “I have an errand to run.”
“Will you be hitching up the buggy or the wagon?”
“I’ll take my bike.” He sliced into the ham that the Miller family had brought over. Many of the Fishers’ neighbors had brought meals to help out.
“Then you’ll be getting…” She paused as if waiting for a location, but when he didn’t supply it, she added, “There faster.”
“I suppose.” He dug his fork into the cheddar-topped potatoes.
“Sunday services are this week,” she added. “Will you be going?”
He tasted the potatoes, which were thick and creamy. He doubted he’d find a convenient excuse not to attend Sunday services. “I suppose so.”
“That will be nice.” Her cheeks splotched pink, and she sipped her iced tea. “For Levi to have his brother there with him…and Hannah…and the babies.”
“If Levi can manage himself,” Samuel said.
“He’s stronger every day. Won’t be long before he’ll be going full steam.”
