Deborah held her father’s arm, guiding him up the gentle slope. Their home sat just beyond the ridge of the field, but maybe this wasn’t the easiest route to take. “You’re pale and shaking. What possessed you to go for such a long walk today?” He didn’t answer, and she tried again. “Kumm, let’s go home.”
He pulled back, stopping both of them. “Did you see that woman and child coming out of the Swareys’ home?”
“No.” Deborah slid her arm through his, trying to encourage him to keep moving toward home. “Do you know her?”
Her father’s feet were planted firm, and it seemed she couldn’t coax him into budging.
He looked to the heavens before closing his eyes. “But it can’t be her. She’d be much older by now, and her daughter is seven or eight years older than you.”
“Who, Daed?”
He massaged his shoulder as if it ached from deep within. “Your mother loved her so. Never once believed the ban against her was fair—not even when she came back eight years later with a child. When she returned with her daughter, I’d been a preacher only a short time.” He gave a half shrug, rubbing the area below his collarbone.
“Daed, what are you talking about?”
He turned and headed for the cattle gate. “It can’t be her. A ghost… a mirage—that’s all it could be. Or”—he quickened his pace—”another one sent in her place to finish destroying what little she left intact.”
“Daed.” Deborah took him by the arm again, gently tugging on him to go the other way “You’re scaring me, talking such nonsense. Let’s go home.”
He pointed a finger at her. “I may suffer under a chronic illness, but I’m not a child.”
Feeling the sting of his correction, she nodded and released his arm. They came to the gate, and he waited as Deborah opened it. They went through it, and then she locked it back, her heart racing with fear.
She held her tongue, trying to piece together what he might be talking about.
“Even as a newly appointed preacher, I…still don’t think I was wrong.” He walked a bit faster as he mumbled. “But Pontius Pilate never thought he was either. Rueben swears she has a way about her—a deceiving, sultry, manipulative way. Who should know better than the man who’d been engaged to her? What else could I do? What else should I have done?”
“What are you talking about?”
“And that woman I just saw was stealing from the Swareys and drunk. She wasn’t Malinda. Couldn’t be.”
“Who’s Malinda, Daed?”
“You keep the children close to home. I have to warn our people.”
He wasn’t making any sense. And even though the temperature was barely sixty and a breeze blew, he had beads of sweat across his brow. When he stumbled a bit, she tucked her arm through his, helping him keep his balance.
“Liewi Deborah.” He patted her arm, calling her “dear.” “It’s not easy being the daughter of a preacher, is it?”
Concerned that he still wasn’t making much sense, she tried to encourage him to turn around and head toward home. There weren’t many phones in the district, but the bishop had approved one for the cabinetry business.
He took a few steps and then paused. “Whether I’m right or wrong in a thing, only God knows. But decisions, tough ones that have the power to help or ruin, have to be made to protect our beliefs.”
“I understand. You’re just and caring and do your best. I’ve always believed that.”
He nodded. “I hope you always do.”
He staggered, and she did what she could to keep him from falling. “Daed?”
His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees.
“Daed!”
Cara tried to think of a plan while Lori played in the tree. That man calling her Malinda haunted her, and she knew the memory wouldn’t fade anytime soon. The sound of horses’ hoofs striking the pavement made her jump. “Come on, sweetie. We’d better get off this property.” Or at least not look like we’re trespassing.
“Not yet, Mom, please.” Lori wrapped her legs firmly around the branch and held on tight to the chains.
“Lori, we need to move. Now.”
“I am moving. Watch me.” She spurred the tree and mimicked all the motions of riding a horse.
The sound of the real horses’ clopping grew louder. She couldn’t see a rig just yet, but it’d top that hill soon.
“Lori.” Cara narrowed her eyes, giving another sharp look. “Now.”
Lori huffed, but she hung on to the tree with her arms, lowering her legs as close to the ground as she could. Cara wrapped her hands around her daughter’s tiny waist. “Okay, drop.”
Lori did.
“Come on. We need to keep walking, like we’re just out for a stroll, okay?” They hurried to the far side of the road near the old barn.
Her daughter tugged on her hand, stopping her. “Did you hear that?”
What, the sound of me failing you?
Lori’s brown eyes grew large. “I hear puppies.” She pulled at her mom’s hand, trying to hurry her. “It’s coming from that building.”
The whole plot looked abandoned, from the empty foundation to the dilapidated barn, and Cara thought maybe it was a better idea to get off the road and totally out of sight. The two ran to the barn door. As they ducked inside, Cara spotted two horses heading their way, pulling a buck-board. That meant she and Lori might have been seen too. She closed the door and peeked through the slats, hoping the rig passed on by.
“Mom, look!”
Her daughter was sitting in the middle of a litter of six puppies, all excited to have her attention.
“Shh.” Cara peered out the slit of the slightly open barn door, trying to see where the horses and rig had gone. She didn’t hear any clopping sounds.
“Excuse me.” A male voice called out to her.
She jolted and looked in the other direction. Two men sat in the horse-drawn wagon, staring at the barn.
“Stay here,” Cara whispered firmly before stepping outside.
Ephraim held the girl’s stare, feeling as if he’d seen her somewhere before. She certainly wasn’t someone he’d met while doing cabinetry work. With her short crop of blond hair, tattered jeans, a tight sweater-shirt that didn’t quite cover her belly, he’d remember if he’d been in her house.
But those brown eyes… Where had he ever seen eyes that shade of golden bronze…or ones filled with that much attitude? On one hand, she gave off an aura of a bit of uncertainty, perhaps an awareness that she wasn’t on her own property. But there was something else, something… cynical and cold.
She stepped away from the barn. “Is there a problem?”
“I was wondering the same thing. You’re on private property.”
“Yeah, I didn’t figure this was a national park or anything. I’m just looking around. The old place has character.”
“Thanks, but it being old is a cause for potential danger. I’d prefer you kept moving.”
“I bet you would. I’m sure you’re real concerned about my safety.”
The sensation of remembering her made his chest tingle. Maybe she was one of the fresh-air teens from New York the Millers sponsored each summer. They usually didn’t arrive until mid-June, but… “Are you from around here?”
A bit of surprise overtook the hardness in her eyes for a moment. “Is that the Amish version of ‘Haven’t we met before?’”
Ephraim’s face burned at the hint that he was coming on to her. He removed his hat, propped his elbow on his leg, and leaned forward. “It was the polite version of ‘I want you off my property.’ But if you’re a newcomer to the area who’s out for a walk, I was willing to be nice about it.”
She raised an eyebrow, and he got the feeling she was holding back from telling him what she really thought. He’d had enough experience with her kind of Englischer women from his days of living and working among them to know that her restraint wasn’t out of respect as much as self-serving interest.
She dipped her fingertips into the front pockets of her jeans. “Like I said, we just stopped in for a minute. I didn’t think a brief look around would cause such a fuss.”
Slipping his hat back on his head, he considered his words. Dry Lake had plenty of teen troubles sometimes, and in his caution he was probably coming across more harsh than he should. “I…I—”
Deborah screamed. Ephraim scanned the area and spotted her running toward them and motioning. “It’s Daed. Hurry!”
Ready to dismiss the unusual stranger, he slapped the reins against the horse’s back and the rig took off.