The next morning Miriam stood at the kitchen window and peered at the mountain road, searching for any sign of a dark sedan. Yesterday Abram had returned to the woods and found her as soon as the two lawmen had left the area. Grateful though she was, Miriam was still concerned about her safety.
She had risen early to help Abram’s sister. Apples needed to be peeled and pies baked for market, but the nervous churning in her stomach made her want to hide upstairs, away from the peering eyes of anyone who might pass by the farm.
Emma seemed oblivious to Miriam’s anxiety and chatted amicably as she worked. Stepping away from the window, Miriam wrapped her arms around her waist, debating how to still her unease.
“As I mentioned last night, I have many pies to bake,” Emma said as she placed a bowlful of apples on the table. “You will help me?”
Longing to allay the tension that tightened her shoulders, Miriam reached for the apple peeler. Using her hands would be therapeutic and might take her mind off the man who wanted to do her harm. Plus, Emma and Abram had provided her safe lodging. The least she could do was to help with the baking.
After peeling more than a dozen apples, Miriam heard Abram outside and, stepping to the sink for a drink of water, she peered from the window. “Does your brother ever stop working?”
Emma scooped flour into her cupped hand and then dropped it into the mixing bowl. “A farm requires work. He has a shop in addition. Livestock to care for, crops to grow.”
“And you make pies to sell at market,” Miriam said as she placed the now empty water glass next to the sink.
“Our apples are plentiful and the Englisch enjoy my baked goods. It lets me help Abram with the expenses.”
“You help him with many things, Emma.”
She smiled meekly. “We work together. He needs someone to cook his meals and wash his clothes. To put up the vegetables from the garden.”
“The jobs his wife did.”
“That is right. Without a wife, he could not handle the farm in addition to the house. Plus, it brings comfort knowing that I am helping offset some of the expenses by selling my pies at market. Work is not a bad thing.”
“No. Of course not. And you’re a good sister to care for him, yet surely you want a husband and a home of your own.”
“Gott will provide when the time is right.”
“You mean when Abram has found a wife.”
Emma nodded sheepishly. “The problem is that he does not seem interested.”
“Are you perhaps too accommodating?”
Emma glanced at Miriam. “What are you saying?”
“Abram doesn’t look for another wife because you take care of him.”
The Amish woman blushed. “I do not think that is the case. He would take a wife for more reasons than to share the work.”
Miriam had to smile. “Is there no Amish man who strikes your fancy?”
“Most of those who are looking for a wife are younger.”
“I can’t believe Abram is the only widower in your community.”
“Actually, Isaac Beiler lives nearby. He owns a dairy. You can see his farm from the front windows. He has one son. A sweet boy named Daniel.”
Miriam returned to the table and continued peeling apples. Emma made the piecrust and rolled it into perfect circles that fit the disposable pie pans.
The women sliced the apples and added sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and a pinch of salt before they filled the shells and covered the tart fruit with a latticed top crust.
“You baked at home?” Emma asked, watching as Miriam fluted the edges of the shells.
“My mother never baked, but I always enjoyed working in the kitchen.”
Emma nodded with approval. “You seem to know what you are doing.”
Later, when Emma pulled the last of the pies from the oven, Miriam inhaled the savory aroma that permeated the kitchen with a welcoming warmth of home and hearth, what Miriam had always longed for in her own house. Regrettably her mother’s sharp rhetoric, especially as the dementia changed her personality, had dispelled any feelings of welcome or warmth.
Once she and Emma had cleaned the kitchen, the Amish woman pulled a bowl from the cupboard. “I will start cooking for the evening meal.”
Miriam glanced at the cupboard, surprised by what she saw laying on top. “Is that a rifle?”
“Yah. Abram hunts. Sometimes I go with him.”
“I wouldn’t think—”
Emma tilted her head. “We hunt for food, Miriam. Deer, rabbits, wild turkeys.”
“Is the gun loaded?” Miriam asked.
“What good would it be if it were not? Foxes and coyotes come after the livestock. We must keep them safe.”
Miriam nodded. “From what I’ve seen, Emma, you work as hard as your brother.”
Emma winked. “Some say the women work harder. We are up early to light the stove in the morning and the last to hug the children at night.”
A knock at the door startled both of them.
“Check first to see who’s there,” Miriam warned. Her pulse pounded with dread. What if Serpent had returned?
Emma peered from the window and then rose on tiptoe to look down upon the person, evidently a very little person, standing on the back porch.
Emma laughed. “It is Daniel.” She opened the door wide. “Let me help you with the milk.”
An adorable boy, not more than five or six, stepped into the kitchen. He carried two large glass jugs that he placed on the floor just inside the door.
“Daniel is our milk delivery man. He lives on the farm just across the way.”
The dairy run by the widower. Miriam stepped closer, totally taken with the boy’s sparkling blue eyes and bowl-cut blond hair. His rosy cheeks and cautious smile instantly stole her heart.
“Daniel brings us milk from his father’s dairy,” Emma explained.
“You must be very strong,” Miriam enthused, “to carry such heavy jugs so far.”
The boy’s chest puffed out and he nodded as if knowing the delivery job demanded not only brawn but also expertise and skill.
“Daniel, you have come at the perfect time.” Emma pointed to the pies cooling on the sideboard. “Perhaps you would like a slice before you return home.”
“Yah, I would like that. Danki.”
The boy took a seat at the table and eagerly attacked the pie Emma placed in front of him. Miriam poured a glass of milk for the young lad and, before he lifted the glass to his lips, the door opened. Abram stepped inside, bringing with him the smell of fresh straw and lumber and the outdoors.
He smiled seeing their guest. “Daniel, did you save some pie for me?”
“Yah. Miriam will pour you a glass of milk, too.”
She quickly cut a slice for Abram while he washed his hands and face. He returned to the kitchen with his hair neatly combed and his angular face scrubbed clean and ruddy from labor, and sat across from the boy. “I saw you helping your datt in the field. You did a fine job with the horses.”
The boy beamed as he shoved another forkful of pie into his mouth. “I am a hard worker.”
“I know you are. Your father relies on your help.”
“He says we need a woman to help, too.”
Miriam couldn’t help but notice Emma’s reaction. The color rose in her cheeks as she returned the cut pie to the sideboard.
“Your father would make some woman a good husband,” Abram added, seemingly oblivious to his sister’s reaction.
“He says I need a mother,” the boy added without hesitation.
“And what do you say, Daniel?” Abram pressed.
“I say Gott will provide.”
Abram chuckled. “You have a good head on your shoulders. Perhaps you need a bit more pie.”
“Datt waits for me. I must go.” He cleared his plate and fork from the table and handed them to Emma. “Danki.”
She quickly wrapped a whole pie in a strip of cheesecloth and tied it with a knot. “Here, Daniel. Take this home for you and your father.”
The boy’s eyes widened.
“Carry it with two hands,” she instructed, pointing him toward the door. “I will watch you from the porch.”
The boy’s expression clouded. “But you never watch me.”
She glanced at Abram. “Today I will.”
No doubt, Emma sensed Abram’s unease. Once Daniel said goodbye and he and Emma left the house, Miriam rinsed the dishes in the sink.
“You have done a good job with the baking,” Abram said, eyeing the rows of pies cooling on the sideboard.
She was surprised by his statement. “How do you know I was involved?”
He rose and carried his plate and fork to the sink.
“Because your face is streaked with flour.” He wiped his hands on a nearby towel and dropped the cloth onto the counter.
Turning, he gently flicked white powder from her cheek. His touch was light and brief, and her skin drank in his nearness as if she were desperate for some sign of acceptance. She leaned closer, inhaling the clean scent on a man who enjoyed nature and the outdoors.
Emma’s voice could be heard calling goodbye to Daniel, but all Miriam thought about was Abram’s touch and the beat of his heart when she had rested her head on his chest yesterday.
His fingers dropped to her lips. “It looks like a bit of sugary apple caught at the side of your mouth. That’s how I could tell you were hard at work. The pie I tasted was delicious, so I thank you for preparing it for me.”
“I... I...”
She could hardly think of anything to say. Her mind kept remembering when she had been wrapped in his arms and wished to be there once again. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about what had happened on the mountain road and that a man with a vile tattoo was prowling the countryside looking for her.
Emma pushed open the kitchen door.
Abram stepped away, leaving Miriam overcome with a sense of loss.
He smiled at his sister and pointed to Miriam. “Rebecca’s pies—” he started to say.
Miriam’s breath caught. Rebecca? Abram had confused her for his wife. A pain stabbed her heart.
Why was she drawn to this man who was so totally different from her? A man who still loved a woman who had died some years earlier, a woman whose clothing Miriam was wearing?
Any interest Abram might have showed to her was really directed to his wife. He was confused by the dress. He wasn’t touching Miriam’s lips, he was yearning to touch his wife’s.
“Excuse me.” Miriam wiped her hands on the nearby towel. “I need to go to my room.”
Seems Miriam had followed in her mother’s footsteps. Her mother had trusted no one and wandered from town to town looking for acceptance that she’d never seemed to find. Her negative outlook on life had caused Miriam to keep a tight hold on her own heart, as well. She hadn’t allowed anyone to come close, especially not a man who put her world into a spin.
“Are you all right?” Emma asked as she followed her up the stairs. “You appeared upset when Abram mentioned Rebecca’s name. Her pies were never as golden brown as ours today, which was the point he was trying to make.”
Miriam knew the truth. Abram had confused her for his wife.
“I’m tired, Emma. If you don’t mind, I’d like to lie down for a bit.”
“Yes, of course. You have been through so much.”
After Abram’s slip of the tongue, Miriam needed to make plans to leave Willkommen and head to Atlanta. But how would she contact Hannah? If they couldn’t connect by phone, Miriam might be able to contact her via email. To do that, she would need a computer.
“You told me that the Englisch buy your baked goods,” she said before Emma left the room.
The Amish woman nodded. “I have some regular customers who I count on weekly.”
“Do any of them live nearby?”
“The Rogerses’ house is about four miles from here. They have a standing order of two loaves of bread, a pie and two dozen cookies each Saturday.”
“Their house is situated along the road to Willkommen?”
“Actually, it sits back from the road. I used to take the route that crosses over the river. The bridge is not strong enough for an automobile, but a carriage can pass there. Although sometimes a horse can get spooked.”
“That’s the road that passes in front of your house?”
Emma nodded. “But Abram is worried about our safety, and he does not like the water.”
“What do you mean?”
Emma shrugged. “I should not bring it up.”
“But you mentioned it.”
“I did, although I should not talk about Abram.” She bit her lip and sighed. “His best friend when he was fourteen was an Englischer. Trevor was older and drove his father’s car too fast. Abram was with him. There was a sharp curve and the car skidded off the road and into the lake.”
Miriam could see the pain wash over Emma’s face. “What happened to the Englisch boy?”
“Abram saved himself but—” Emma pulled in a stiff breath. “He could not save Trevor.”
“I’m sorry, Emma.”
“Yah, it was hard on all of us. Abram especially.”
Miriam could only imagine how tragic the drowning had been.
“The accident happened in Tennessee, but the memory returns whenever Abram is around any body of water. For that reason, he stays away from the river and the bridge and, although a longer journey, we take the other fork in the road. While it causes us to backtrack, Abram does not have to worry about the bridge.” Emma’s face brightened. “I have an idea. You can go with me to the Rogerses’ house on Saturday. They are good people. You will like them.”
“Do they have a computer?”
“I do not know about a computer, but I am sure they have a phone so you can call your sister.”
By Saturday, Miriam hoped to be in Atlanta. She looked down at the blue dress she wore and brushed a smudge of white flour from the skirt. “I must wash my clothes, Emma. You need to show me where you placed them.”
“I will wash next week. It is no trouble. Your things are in the barn, soaking since they were spotted with blood.”
“You don’t need to do my wash. Just tell me where you keep the soap or laundry detergent.”
“You will see them near the wash barrel.”
In addition to clean clothes, Miriam also needed money for her bus ticket. “I’ll rest now and maybe go to the barn later,” she said as a plan took hold.
“You will take the evening meal with us?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll come downstairs later to help you prepare the food.”
“Only if you feel strong enough. Perhaps I tired you too much with baking the pies.”
“Absolutely not. I enjoyed the work.”
“And I enjoyed the company.”
Glancing out the window, Emma smiled. “I see Isaac is coming to visit.”
Miriam stared over the Amish woman’s shoulder and nudged Emma playfully. “He probably wants to thank you for the pie.”
“Perhaps. Although I suspect he wants to talk to Abram. They are alike, those two, although in different ways.”
Miriam raised her brow. “Meaning?”
“Isaac knows he must work within the Amish way, but he uses some other resources in his business.” No doubt seeing Miriam’s confusion, she added, “A dairy needs refrigeration if he is to sell to the Englisch.”
“You mean Isaac uses electricity?”
“Yah, it is allowed, but the power runs only to the dairy barn. It is verboten—not allowed—in the house.”
“The bishop sets the rules?” Miriam asked.
“We live by the Ordnung, but each bishop leads his own community. Some communities and some bishops are less strict in adhering to the old ways.”
“Does Abram have electricity in his woodshop?”
Emma shook her head. “Abram would not, but he does use diesel fuel to run some of his woodworking machines. Diesel is allowed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Some members of our community came from Ethridge, Tennessee, years ago. You have heard of that town?”
Miriam nodded. “Abram mentioned it.”
“Ethridge is made up mainly of Old Order Amish. They live as the Amish have since first coming to America. They do not have running water in their homes as we do here. Nor does anyone, even those doing business with the Englisch, use propane. Diesel motors are allowed, but that is all.”
“Abram said part of the community left Ethridge and moved here.”
Emma nodded. “A new community usually develops when a group of families have like ideas about the way they will live. Sometimes they move to find farmland, as Abram did.”
“So your community is less conservative compared to Ethridge, where you grew up?”
“Except Abram. He remains very conservative.”
“And his wife?” Miriam asked. “How did she feel?”
Emma smiled sweetly. “She loved Abram. What could she say?”
A knock sounded at the door below.
“It is Isaac.” Emma tugged a strand of hair back from her face and hurried into the hallway. “I need to welcome him.”
Emma’s feelings for Isaac were obvious. Although Miriam had never loved a man, she had hoped to find someone someday. Someone who would walk through life at her side. Both of them in step and working together.
But love would have to wait. As much as she admired Abram and found his home and way of life peaceful, Miriam would never fit into the Amish community. Or could she?
* * *
Abram studied the wood he had stacked against the wall of his workshop. In times past, he had been considered a master craftsman. The work had brought joy and a steady income from the items he had sold in town. But that was before Rebecca had died.
He touched the arm of the hickory bentwood rocker he had only begun to make. For the last three years, it had remained a visible reminder of his deceased wife.
Deep in his heart, Abram knew Rebecca would have wanted him to find someone else. Emma had hinted at the fact several times. But he did not deserve happiness after what had happened. He had never verbalized his thoughts to his sister nor did he give voice to the question that troubled him now.
Why would he search for someone to replace Rebecca when his own stubbornness had claimed her life?
Yet ever since Miriam had appeared on his doorstep, he wondered if there could be something—or someone—else that would fill the void Rebecca’s passing had left.
Abram shook his head with regret. He didn’t need joy. He needed redemption. His father was right. He had been too easily taken off task as a youth. He would not let himself be thrown off course now.
The door to his shop opened and Isaac Beiler entered. Tall and stocky, the dairyman dipped his head in greeting. “Emma said I would find you here.”
Abram left the rocker and stepped closer to his neighbor. “I thought you came for another pie.” He was hard-pressed to stop the smile that tugged at his lips and he was glad when Isaac’s eyes responded with twinkling good humor.
“Emma is always generous with her baked goods,” Isaac said. “She is generous with her heart, as well. She invited Daniel and me to join you for supper this evening.”
Isaac’s wife had died thirteen months earlier. “Emma sees you losing weight, my friend. You and Daniel both need a good meal to fill your bellies. I do not know how you manage the dairy and the household. I would waste away if Emma were not living with me.”
“She is a good woman.” The neighbor rubbed his beard. “With Daniel, my thought was always to find a mother for my son.”
“Yet in all these months, you have not found anyone?” Abram questioned what they both knew to be true.
Isaac sighed. “There is a woman, although I am not sure how she feels about me. With the dairy and raising my son, I have little time to court.”
“Ah, but Isaac, you must make the time.”
“By adding more hours to the day?” the neighbor smiled ruefully.
“There is always time for love.”
“You are not one to follow your own advice, Abram.”
The two men chuckled, but their joviality turned serious with Isaac’s next comment.
“Daniel told me about the lady who has come into your home. I questioned Emma. She hesitated to tell me about the visitor until I mentioned seeing the sheriff’s car on the road. She said the woman—Miriam—was injured and you gave her refuge. Your sister is worried about you, Abram.”
“Worried? In what way?”
“That you do not realize what could come of this. Did you tell your uncle about the visitor?”
“I tried, but he needed to get back to town and did not have time to hear me out.”
“What about the bishop? He has time to listen.”
Abram did not want the bishop or any of the elders involved. The fewer people who knew about Miriam, the better. At least until Samuel returned to Willkommen.
“The bishop provides wise guidance,” Abram explained. “But I do not need his counsel at this time.”
He hoped Isaac would be satisfied with his answer, but the neighbor pushed on.
“Deputy Idler stopped by the dairy yesterday and told me about the abandoned car and the older woman’s body found in the trunk. The timing makes me think your houseguest is somehow involved. Have you questioned her?”
Although Abram would rather not discuss the newcomer, he knew Isaac could be trusted.
“A man held her captive. He is on the loose. When Samuel returns to Willkommen Miriam will tell him what happened. Until then, she must remain hidden, and the best place to do that is here with me.”
“She wears Amish clothing.”
“Because she has nothing else to wear. The bishop would not want her going without clothing.”
Isaac shrugged. “He would not.”
“Once Samuel returns, the problem will be resolved. You understand I am acting out of concern for the woman. She was hurt and injured. I had to take her in. Is Emma unsettled by her presence?”
“She likes Miriam, but as I mentioned, she is worried about you.”
“Emma worries too much. I am fine, Isaac.”
“And what happens if the man who held her captive comes after you or after Emma? I do not need to remind you, Abram. The Amish way is one of peace, not conflict.”
“If a fox is killing chickens in your coup, Isaac, do you stand by and watch? Or do you go after the fox?”
Isaac lowered his gaze and kicked at a mound of sawdust on the floor. “Be careful, my friend.”
“We will be fine.”
Glancing up, Isaac nodded. “Then I will return home now. Daniel and I will see you this evening.”
After his neighbor left, Abram continued to think about Isaac’s comments.
Was Abram making good choices concerning Miriam? He wanted to keep her safe. Hiding her on his farm was the right decision, but Emma was worried. Was she worried about their safety or Abram’s heart?