Amish Christmas Secrets

by Debby Giusti

  Rosie glanced at where he stood in the kitchen. Their eyes met and a warmth settled over her. She looked away, forcing herself to ignore any response on her part to his understanding gaze.

  The family spoke little during dinner, and Rosie caught the boys glancing with concern to where she sat. They all appeared worried, just as she was.

  Ezra encouraged the four younger children to go to bed early. “With sickness in the house, you all need to get a good night’s sleep to ward off the germs.”

  If one of them got sick because of Joseph, she would be even more upset. Gott, keep them safe and healthy.

  The house sat quiet as she rocked her baby. Joseph’s eyes eventually closed and hers did as well.

  Sometime later, she woke with a start. Ezra was sitting in a rocker, staring at her. She adjusted in the seat, feeling embarrassed.

  Looking down at Joseph’s flushed face and feeling the heat radiating from his little body filled her with fear.

  She brought his face up to her cheek, the heat nearly burning her. “His fever is too high”

  Ezra rose from the chair. “What can I do?”

  “Get a washcloth and towel and a basin of tepid water.”

  “In here.” He motioned her to the bedroom where he slept. “There is a clean towel and cloth on the stand. I’ll fill the basin with water.”

  Rosie laid Joseph on Ezra’s bed and removed the blankets from around his hot body. Her hands trembled as she unsnapped his sleeper and pulled his hands and legs free.

  Ezra returned with the bowl. He dipped the washcloth in the water, rang it out and handed it to her. She wiped the baby’s arms and legs and patted Joseph dry with a towel. Then she repeated the process, wiping his face and stomach. Turning him over, she rubbed the cloth gently over his back.

  “This should lower his temperature and cool his body a bit, but I am worried, Ezra.”

  “There is an urgent-care clinic in town that is open until midnight. We should take him there.”

  Rosie did not want her baby out in the cold with so high a fever, but he needed medical help. If anything happened to him—

  She slipped Joseph back into his sleeper, refusing to dwell on “what if.”

  “I can hold him while you get what you need for the trip to town,” Ezra offered.

  Much as she did not want Joseph out of her arms, she needed to get blankets and diapers and a bottle with water for the trip.

  Ezra took the baby and instead of being stiff, he cuddled Joseph close and peered down at him with love in his eyes. Rosie’s heart almost broke at what she wanted for her child—a good father to shower him with love, to teach him the ways of the farm and of life, to counsel and encourage him as he grew.

  She turned and ran upstairs to fetch the items for the trip to town.

  Soon ready, she took the baby from Ezra’s arms, their hands touching, their eyes meeting, both of them struggling with worry about Joseph’s condition.

  “I will hitch the buggy,” Ezra said. “We need to tell Susan.”

  “I already did. She is praying.”

  “I am as well,” Ezra said with a nod before he hurried from the house.

  Alone in the kitchen, Rosie’s heart nearly broke as she glanced down at her precious child, sick with a raging fever. She was helpless to care for him.

  Please, Gott, do not take him from me. I could not bear to go on. I promise to leave this area and this wonderful family so they can continue with their lives without my interference.

  She sighed. Leaving would be hard, especially leaving Ezra.

  EIGHTEEN

  The night was pitch-black as Ezra hurried Bessie down the mountain toward town. Rosie sat in the rear, cradling Joseph. Ezra glanced back, seeing only her big eyes wide with worry. He knew her face was pale as death, just as it had been in the kitchen.

  He wanted to reach out and touch her hand and offer support, but she did not need his touch when her baby was in her arms. Her only thought was Joseph.

  Hopefully, a good doctor would be on duty, one who could examine a small infant and diagnose what was wrong. Ezra shivered thinking of what could happen.

  He knew too well that everything could change in the blink of an eye. A robbery, a murder, five children orphaned with only a big brother to care for them.

  He shook his head, recalling all the mistakes he had made and regretting each of them. If only Gott could forgive him. If only he could forgive himself.

  Headlights from farther down the mountain appeared in the distance. Usually the road was void of traffic except an occasional Amish buggy with teens coming home from a singing.

  Why would a car be on the road this late at night?

  He stomach twisted. He had not seen the man with the streak of white hair since the cabin. Hopefully Wagner was still there counting his illegal pills and the money he had to be raking in, as plentiful as a good fall harvest.

  Ezra hated to worry Rosie even more, but she needed to be warned. “A car is coming up the mountain. Surely it will pass by, but be prepared to duck down if the driver pulls to a stop.”

  “Can you tell if it is an SUV?”

  “All I see are the headlights.” They were positioned higher than on a sedan, which meant it could be an all-terrain vehicle. Not that he would share the information with Rosie.

  He braced himself as the auto drew closer. The headlights blinded him for a moment and spooked Bessie. He steadied the reins to keep the mare in line.

  Without warning, the SUV swerved in front of the buggy and screeched to a stop.

  Bessie balked but stopped just in time.

  The driver rolled down the passenger window and leaned across the console. He raised his voice and shouted to Ezra. “Strange to see an Amish man on the road this late.”

  Grateful that Wagner had failed to recognize him, Ezra said nothing and hoped Rosie and the baby were out of sight.

  “I’m looking for an Amish gal with a baby.” The man slurred his words as if he had been drinking.

  “I have not seen anyone on the road. You should head back to town. A bear is said to prowl the mountain at night. I have heard stories of him crashing through windshields and causing damage even to the biggest cars.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  “Am I?”

  The man pursed his lips as if considering Ezra’s warning before he slipped back to the driver’s seat and, using the master controls, rolled up the passenger window. He reversed direction and drove off.

  Ezra let out a sigh of relief. He turned to the rear, but saw no one. Where was Rosie?

  She climbed out from under the blanket, still holding Joseph. “He will not give up looking for me, Ezra. He thinks I have information that I will turn over to the police. If only I did. We must find a way to stop him.”

  “He will go home now, Rosie. We will worry about him in the morning. Right now, we need to head for the clinic before it closes.”

  Ezra turned his gaze back to the road and flicked the reins, hurrying the mare to town, to the doctor and to help for Joseph.

  Do not let another person die, Gott, especially a precious baby who has found a place in my heart.

  Ezra realized someone else had taken hold of his heart.

  Rosie.

  * * *

  The urgent-care clinic was ready to lock its doors for the night when Rosie and Ezra arrived with Joseph. They were quickly ushered into an exam room.

  “Do you mind if I stay with you?” Ezra asked after the nurse had left.

  “Of course not. I appreciate your support.”

  She cradled Joseph in her arms. He was still so hot.

  A nurse knocked on the partially closed door and pushed it open. “I need to get some information.” She pulled up a stool to the laptop computer that sat on a small side table. After punching a few
keys, she started to fill in information.

  “Do you have access to a phone?” the nurse asked.

  “No.”

  “Address?”

  Rosie glanced at Ezra. “We are between homes at the moment.”

  “Some type of contact information is necessary in case the doctor wants to get in touch with you, ma’am.”

  “Three fourteen Mountain Road,” Ezra volunteered his address.

  “Thank you, sir. And the baby’s name is Joseph Glick?”

  “Yes,” Rosie responded.

  “When did you or your husband notice the baby not feeling well?” the nurse asked.

  Rosie held up her hand. “He is not—”

  Ezra’s gaze met hers.

  Flustered, she ignored the nurse’s comment. “Joseph took a longer-than-usual nap this afternoon. Later in the evening, he started to develop a fever and refused to eat. He had no interest in toys or—”

  She glanced again at Ezra. “Or his seven-year-old sister, who loves him so much.”

  “Did you take his temperature?”

  “I do not have a thermometer.”

  The nurse raised her eyebrows. Her questioning gaze made Rosie feel like an irresponsible mother.

  “Mrs. Glick, did you give him anything to take down the fever?”

  “We had nothing in the house for an eight-month-old.”

  The nurse clipped a device to Joseph’s toe and watched as a number appeared on a small digital screen.

  “His oxygen saturation level is 98.” She placed a digital thermometer under his arm until it beeped and recorded both results in the computer.

  “Axillary temp 103,” she said.

  The words burned a hole in Rosie’s heart. “His temperature is so high. What about his oxygen level?”

  “His pulse ox is normal. I’ll let the doctor know about his temp.” She left the room.

  Rosie wiped her hand over Joseph’s hot brow. “Surely they will give him something to take down the fever,” she whispered to Ezra.

  “The doctor will order it, Rosie. A little longer and he will be with us.”

  The doctor pushed into the room without knocking. “I’m Dr. Philips.” His name was embroidered on the pocket of the lab coat, which he wore over scrubs.

  “Tell me about your son’s symptoms.”

  Rosie repeated what she had told the nurse. “Usually he is happy and playful. Today, he was too tired to interact with anyone.”

  The doctor felt Joseph’s neck, pressed on his stomach, tested his reflexes and looked into his ears and his throat.

  “His throat is red. Some spotting. Could be strep. We’ll draw blood for lab work and take a urine specimen. The results will be back tomorrow. One of our nurses will contact you.”

  He checked the computer. “You folks don’t have access to a phone?”

  “I can return tomorrow,” Ezra volunteered.

  “The labs should be back by early morning. We’ll give you a copy of the results for the child’s medical records.”

  “What do you think he has?” Rosie asked.

  “Looks like strep throat to me. We could do a rapid strep test, but I’ll just go ahead and prescribe an antibiotic. We’ll swab his throat. Something might grow out in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The nurse will give him Tylenol to take down that fever and start an IV. Joseph is dehydrated. Fluids will help. We’ll read his blood smear here and do the preliminary urinalysis before you leave.”

  Rosie glanced at the wall clock. “I am sure the pharmacy is closed at this time of night. Where can we get the prescription filled?”

  “We can fill it here and send you home with the meds. Joseph should be feeling better and no longer contagious in twenty-four hours.”

  The doctor shook their hands before he left the room. The nurse entered soon thereafter, administered the medication and started the IV.

  “You folks make yourselves comfortable.” She glanced around the room. “I can bring in another chair.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Ezra assured her. “I can use the computer stool.”

  Rosie pulled her chair closer to the exam table where Joseph was lying. “You’ll feel better as soon as your temperature drops,” she said, smiling at her little one.

  He reached for the IV tubing. She blocked his hand and then dug in the tote where she had tucked an extra blanket and diapers. She had also brought a toy.

  “What is that?” Ezra asked.

  “A finger puppet Will gave me soon after I learned I was pregnant. He wanted me to keep it for the baby.”

  Joseph grabbed the toy and waved it in the air. Distracted when the nurse came back into the room to check the IV, he opened his hand and the toy dropped through his fingers.

  Ezra picked it up and studied it more closely once they were alone again. “There’s something hard inside the puppet.”

  “Probably a weight,” Rosie mused.

  “Which seems strange for a baby’s toy. You would not want anything hazardous to hurt Joseph.”

  Ezra turned over the toy and drew out a small metal object. “This is not a toy, Rosie. It is the cover for a flash drive.”

  She leaned forward. “I do not understand.”

  “A flash drive stores information that can be saved from or downloaded to a computer.”

  He scooted next to the laptop. “Let me show you.”

  “Why would William want his child to have a flash drive?” Rosie asked.

  “We will know more when we determine what the drive contains.”

  Ezra inserted the flash drive into the USB port, tapped the keyboard and watched as information unfurled across the monitor.

  “What do you see?” she asked.

  “Records. Names and shipments to various addresses in the surrounding area.” He scrolled down further. “Looks like as far away as Atlanta.”

  “Names and addresses? You mean delivery information? Could it be where Will took the packages?”

  “More than likely. Patient names are also listed and the number of pills received from each prescription.” Ezra turned to Rosie, his brow raised. “The records are quite thorough.”

  “Will was worried about someone coming after him. He often told me that he needed protection.”

  Ezra opened another file. Pictures appeared. “Here is a photograph of the nursing-home manager. Another shows Larry Wagner, the man with the patch of white hair.”

  Ezra clicked on another file. He pointed to the screen. “Look at this photo.”

  Two young men, probably in their early twenties, who looked alike and had the same swatch of premature white hair. They stood behind a table loaded with prescription drugs.

  Rosie leaned closer. “The men resemble Mr. Wagner.”

  “They could be his sons. Another person stands behind them.”

  Ezra enlarged the screen and moved the curser so the man came into view.

  Rosie’s stomach tightened.

  The third man in the photo was someone she knew too well.

  The man was Will MacIntosh.

  * * *

  Ezra kept thinking about the pictures on the flash drive. The two men in the photo with the swatches of white hair kept playing through his mind. From their close resemblance, they could be twins.

  After his parents’ deaths, Ezra had worked hard to keep from thinking about that terrible day, yet tonight, everything kept flooding back to him. He heard the sirens in his head and the words of the person who had come to find him at the bar. “Your parents were shot,” the man had said.

  Bessie had never traveled so fast. Ezra had taken the back road and had arrived home moments after the ambulance to find both his parents, lying in pools of blood on the floor of the workshop. His father had been pronounced dead, but his mother was still respon
sive.

  He had pushed past the EMTs, dropped to his knees and reached for her hand. “Forgive me, Mamm.” He had cried like a child who had gone against his mother’s instructions, but his guilt involved more than a child’s disrespect. Ezra had led the killers to his parents.

  The guilt still hung heavy on his shoulders.

  Ezra sighed with regret as they approached the top of the mountain. He glanced back at Rosie, holding Joseph, and then tugged on the reins, guiding Bessie through the gate and past the workshop to the house.

  Once the buggy came to a stop, he hurried Rosie inside and helped her settle Joseph in the crib. The baby was less feverish and Rosie’s relief was evident, although she appeared exhausted and ready to collapse.

  “Rest now,” he told her. “We can talk in the morning.”

  “Sleep can wait, Ezra. There are some things I must explain.”

  She followed him downstairs to the kitchen and beckoned him to sit while she stood by the table. Once he was seated, she began to speak.

  “My father made me feel like I was always doing something for which he was not pleased. William made me feel pretty and smart and nice, at least in the beginning. Only Will’s type of love was flawed. He was more interested in himself, which I realized too late.”

  “This is all in the past, Rosie. You do not need to open old wounds.”

  “I want you to know what happened, Ezra.” She glanced down and clasped her hands together as if in prayer. “We drove all the way to Dahlonega to buy a pregnancy test kit. I did not want anyone here in the Amish community to suspect what I feared was true. A few days later, Will gave me the toy for the baby. By then, I had realized my mistake.”

  Her eyes were filled with pain when she looked at Ezra. His heart broke for the suffering she had endured.

  “Will did not love me,” she continued. “He loved the control he had over me. A man with a streak of white hair came after him and killed him. I am certain it was Larry Wagner.”

  “I am sorry, Rosie.” Ezra started to stand. He wanted to go to her and hold her close, but she held up her hand to stop him.

  “Someday I will tell Joseph about his father, although I do not know how much I will reveal. But that is in the future and right now, I am concerned about the present. I have brought danger to you and your family and maybe my aunt Katherine, as well as being responsible for Nan’s death.”