Celeste seemed to be drifting between awake and asleep, from what he could tell. He kept talking to her as he carried her to the car, promising her that when she woke up he’d make sure she was somewhere safe. He laid her carefully in the back seat of the truck long enough to kick the windshield out from the inside. Then he sat beside her in the back seat, cradling her face and neck with one arm while he checked the man’s ID.
Steven Penn, aged twenty. What a mundane name and a young age for someone to be in such a bad and desperate place. Poindexter’s page was open on Steven’s phone, open to a gallery of pictures. He scrolled. There it was, all of it. The location of the farmhouse safe house. Lee’s video phone footage of Miller’s attempt to kidnap her. Drone photos from the lot where they swapped out the trucks. Cell phone pictures from the diner, which he guessed were taken from the teenager of the electronics-addicted family. Then, finally, the traffic camera where he’d slowed to a stop outside Hope’s Creek. No wonder they’d known how to find her. He talked the photos through with Celeste out loud as he looked at them, describing each one in turn. Could she hear him? He hoped so.
“You were right,” he said. He stroked her head. Her blond hair tumbled through his fingers. “The diner wasn’t as safe as I thought it was, and you were right about the drone. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve told Hunter that you needed to be involved in setting up your own protection plan. We’ve never faced an enemy like this before. It’s not a person—it’s a swarm of enemies all connected by one unknown spider manipulating them through the web. I don’t know how to fight this. All I can do is run.”
He placed a quick call to an encrypted mailbox where he knew he could leave a message for Chief Deputy Hunter undetected. He told her there’d been another attempt on his assignment’s life and gave her Steven’s full name, social security number, driver’s license and license plate. He told her they were going dark, he’d call as soon as he could and he’d keep Celeste safe.
He left her buckled safely in the back seat of the truck, as far away from the missing windshield as possible. He placed the phone under the wheel of the truck and backed over it. Then he turned the truck around and drove back toward Hope’s Creek, sticking to back roads and inching along, feeling the cold breeze whipping at him over the dashboard and through the empty hole where the windshield had been.
His eyes cast constant glances in the rearview mirror. He watched as Celeste dozed, lying curled up sweet and peaceful, in the back seat of the truck, her chest rising and falling, and her eyes fluttering, as if she was in a restful sleep just awaiting someone to wake her. He kept talking to her as he drove. Not about anything important. Just stories from childhood, about barn cats and rabbits, and how he’d run down the hill with his brother and twisted his ankle, but stubbornly walked home on it anyway. As sun was setting low beneath the sky, he crested a steep hill and stopped at the top, looking down at the frozen lake that lay below.
“Okay, Celeste, this is where we get out,” he said. He put the car in Neutral, pulled the emergency brake and hopped out. Then he opened the back door and pulled Celeste into his arms again. “We need to ditch the vehicle. I suspect Steven is going to get picked up pretty soon and I don’t think anybody’s going to trace this old truck. But we can’t risk it. The last thing we want is someone spotting it on a traffic camera or drone.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured softly.
She nestled closer to him. The scent of her filled his senses. Protecting her was hardest thing he’d ever had to do in his life, but he wouldn’t have traded the assignment for anything in the world. He cradled her to his chest, popped the brake and leaned hard into the truck with one shoulder. The truck rolled slowly down the hill and out onto the ice. The tires skimmed across the surface for one brief moment before crashing through and sinking slowly under the water.
He waited. The wind shook the trees and buffeted his body. He held Celeste tighter.
She whimpered in his arms. “Jonathan? Where are we? What’s happening?”
“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. We’ve just got a little bit of a walk ahead of us.”
He bent down and pressed his forehead against hers, feeling the softness of her skin and the warmth of her breath. Their lips were so close that all it would’ve taken was to let himself move just an inch and their mouths would’ve touched. Instead, he pulled back, feeling something stir inside him, like something long dead coming to life.
Eventually the truck disappeared under the surface. His eyes rose, watching as the setting sun spread long lines of endless pink and gold along the darkening sky.
Help me, Lord, I can’t do this without You.
He started walking, trudging across the fields in knee-deep snow, taking one step at a time, with nothing but the bag over his shoulder, the clothes on his back and the woman he was bound to protect held in his arms.
“I’m taking you home, Celeste,” he said, not knowing if she could hear him, but that talking to her helped more than she’d ever know. “Back to the house where I grew up. You get to meet my father, Eli, and see the rest of the family again. I’m really very scared about it, honestly. Terrified. See, knowing you’ve made a mistake is a whole lot different than knowing how to fix it or what to say. I mean, how do you apologize for leaving home for years? What do you say? My father and I have always struggled to communicate. He really likes his silences. And now Mark says his health is failing. My brother put his life and his family’s lives on the line to protect us? How could he ever ask them to risk their lives again?”
The sky was an inky wash of dark purple and blue as the farm where he’d grown up in came into view. He’d always heard that things from childhood looked smaller than adults remembered. But somehow it was even bigger—a large farmhouse in the middle with its snow-covered roof and huge white porch, framed by a barn for the horses and another for the buggy and wagon, a hutch for the rabbits and chickens, and fields on the other, ringed by fences and trees. A second, smaller house not much larger than a cabin, had been built beside the main house since he’d left. That would be the grossdaadi house where his father lived.
His footsteps slowed as he carried her across the fields, down the long drive and to the front steps.
I’m not even sure how or why I started praying to You again, Gott. It kind of snuck up on me, but somehow I don’t know how to stop. There are so many ways this can go wrong. But Celeste said that if I trusted You that You would guide me. Please help me protect her. I need You now.
He knocked on the front door. It swung open. There stood a bearded man, with hair white from age and piercing blue eyes. Jonathan felt his head bow.
“Pa, forgive me.” He choked on unshed tears he’d never let fall. “I was wrong to leave and I am sure it hurt you to hear I came to town today and did not visit. I don’t know the right thing to say to heal what I did. But I’m here for your help. I need sanctuary. I need your help to protect this woman’s life.”
His father nodded. There was a long pause in which Jonathan could only guess what he was thinking. “Gott heals all things in His time.” He turned and looked over his shoulder, and it was only then that Jonathan saw Amos, Miriam, Rosie and Mark watching in a silent tableau from the kitchen doorway. “Come quickly. Your brother and this woman need our help.”
The smell of something warm and delicious and comforting roused Celeste slowly. She stretched to find she was lying on a bed that was so impossibly soft her body seemed to be sinking into the quilts. She opened her eyes, and it took her a long moment to adjust to the darkness. Then she saw the light of the moon, silver and simple, shining down through a gap in the curtains.
“How are you?” a woman’s voice asked. Then the golden glimmer of lamplight moved through the darkness. She rolled over and saw Miriam sitting on a chair by a low table.
“I’m okay, thank you,” Celeste said. She sat up slowly, feeling the grogginess that had kept pulling her under time and again recede to the edges of her mind.
She remembered everything that had happened since the car crash, and yet the memories were fuzzy, like dreams she’d kept drifting in and out of.
The car accident. The abduction attempt. Being chloroformed. The long cold drive before abandoning the truck and continuing on foot. And the stories Jonathan had told her. Dozens of them, it felt like, all about his childhood, his life and his childhood faith, as if the closed book of his life had suddenly opened up and spilled out when she was her weakest and needed something to hold on to in order to keep the fear at bay. Sudden emotion swelled in her chest. He’d been struggling so hard with coming back home, and yet he had, for her, to keep her safe.
Lord, whatever he’s doing now, wherever he is and whatever’s happening, please guide him and be with him.
“How’s Jonathan?” she asked. “Where is he? Is he okay?”
“He’s asleep in the chair by the fire,” Miriam said. She stood slowly. “He stayed up sitting with Eli, his father, for a long while.”
Yes, she vaguely remembered the old man with the white beard and kind eyes who’d greeted them.
“What did they talk about?” Celeste asked.
Miriam smiled softly. “I don’t think they talked much at all. Sometimes it is better to sit and be silent with someone when you don’t have the right words to say. The Lord moves in silences just as well as He does in words. Now, I brought you some stew, along with some fresh bread, a glass of cold water and another of milk. Jonathan said you would be hungry.”
“Yes, I am, thank you.” Celeste swung her legs over the side of the bed and was grateful to feel they weren’t as wobbly as she’d feared they’d be. “How long have I been here?”
“A couple of hours,” Miriam said. “You woke up a bit and I helped you walk upstairs. I made sure you were okay and then told Jonathan to let you sleep.”
Miriam set a lamp down. She pulled a small table over beside the bed and placed the tray holding the simple meal on it. As Miriam turned and picked up the light again, the glow cast gentle shadows along her form, highlighting the tight, round curve of her belly, through the thin, soft fabric of her home dress. Miriam followed her gaze, and there was a sweet, almost dreamy quality to her smile. One hand slid protectively over her stomach.
“Yes, Amos and I are having another child this spring,” she said. “He always wanted a large family. Rosie and Mark’s father died when they were very young, and Amos was so happy to become their pa. Then came David and Samuel. Now Gott is blessing us with one more.”
Celeste swallowed hard. This woman was pregnant, had been threatened by a criminal in front of her children and still had the grace and courage to welcome her into their home. Jonathan had been so right when he’d reminded her not to judge someone by appearances.
“I don’t know how to thank you for protecting me,” Celeste started. Her head shook. “You don’t know me and have no reason to help me. And you’ve done so much...”
Her voice trailed off.
“Hush now,” Miriam said firmly, “and eat, then sleep. We can talk more about your situation in the morning.”
Celeste nodded. She started to eat. The food was warm, hot, soothing and delicious, with tender chunks of beef, along with carrots, potatoes and another root vegetable she couldn’t place. There was a quiet to this place and to Miriam that she appreciated. She’d never been good at small talk and always felt socially awkward around strangers. It was nice, somehow, to be able to feel it was okay to just sit there in the peace and not try to find the right words to say.
“This is really good,” she said after a long moment. “I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
“It’s Amos’s favorite,” Miriam said. “The baby’s, too.”
“How did you two meet?” Celeste asked.
“At my shop,” she said. “The building belonged to Rosie and Mark’s father. His name was Isaac. He said he always felt that God wanted him to use it to help others. He wanted to take things that were unwanted, unused and damaged, repair them, and give them to others who needed them. He wanted to raise money to help people doing God’s work overseas. He believed in healing broken things.”
Her eyes glanced past Celeste to the window, as if looking at something very far away.
“We moved here as a family, following his dream,” she continued. “But he died before the store was open. I was alone with nothing, in a new community and a widow with two small children. Many people were very kind to us. Then I met Amos. He was carrying a lot of hurt and a lot of anger.”
“I know Jonathan regrets hurting him very much,” Celeste said.
“Three stubborn men living under one roof, all of whom lost the woman who held them together.” Miriam shook her head. “Like bulls knocking around hurting themselves and each other. When I met Amos he had such a deep need to love and be loved.” Her smile deepened. “We healed each other’s hearts. Two months after we met, we were married.”
“So quick?” Celeste felt herself gasp and then felt guilty almost immediately. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t judge anybody else’s relationship. I’ve never had what you and Amos have. I wouldn’t know what it’s like.”
A chuckle slipped Miriam’s lips, but not an unkind one. It reminded her of the way her mother would laugh under her breath when Celeste complained she would never solve a computer problem just moments before she invariably did.
Instead, all Miriam said was, “Get sleep while you can. I’ll make sure Rosie comes in to wake you in the morning and helps you get dressed. In the meantime, there is a nightdress for you at the end of the bed. Sleep well.”
“Thank you.”
Miriam slipped out of the room, with a rustle of fabric and skirts.
Celeste waited until the door was closed, then set the tray back down on the table and changed into the nightgown. She guessed it was Mark’s room she’d been given and wondered where the young man was sleeping. Miriam had taken the lamp with her, but dim moonlight filtered through the window and slowly her eyes adjusted. She crawled under what felt like a mountain of blankets, pulled them up around her chin and curled into a ball. There was something soft and gentle about the darkness and silence that surrounded her.
What time was it? She had no way of knowing. It could be after midnight. It could be as early as nine. Whatever time it was she doubted somehow that she’d have been in bed if she was back home in her old apartment. No, she’d likely be reading a book on her tablet, surfing the internet on her laptop, clicking through social media on her phone or streaming something on her television. Doing anything other than lying still and letting the darkness enfold her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling an odd sense of peace spread through her limbs. It was only then she realized with a start that her usual tension headache and the nagging pain she was so used to feeling in her limbs was gone.
Despite the chaos, despite the fear, despite the uncertainly, there was a deeper, more enveloping peace that surpassed her understanding.
Thank You, Lord. I don’t know what You’re doing. I don’t know why I’m here or what happens next. But thank You for bringing me here. Please be with this family and in this home. Help me share this sense of Your love and peace with Jonathan...
She drifted off to sleep with the US marshal’s dark eyes filling her mind and his name on her lips.
Celeste was awoken by the morning sun spreading across the floor and onto her face. Then came the sounds of birds chirping, animals baying, the twins running up and down the hall, and dishes clattering from the kitchen below her. She sat up and looked out, feeling her breath catch in her throat at the beauty that spread out beneath her. Prayers of thanksgiving surged through her heart that her mind couldn’t even begin to find words for.
A gentle knock brushed the door frame.
“Hello?” It was Rosie.
“Come in.” A smile crossed Celeste’s lips as the door slid open and the young woman’s face filled the doorway, her arms filled with brightly colored fabric. She slipped from between the covers and gave the young woman a hug. “It is so wonderful to see you again.”
“You, too.” Rosie smiled. “Mamm thought you might like some help getting dressed.”
Three dresses hung loose and soft over her one arm, one in peach, one in a bright green and one in the faintest yellow. In the other she held a small white prayer kapp and box of pins. She laid the dresses down on the bed. “And our last lesson in how to pin a dress was rather rushed.”
Hidden behind a curtain while a criminal came looking for her. Yes, it had been.
She giggled. Celeste laughed.
“Well, I’m very happy we have more time now,” Celeste said. Her hands ran over the fabric and let it fall through her fingers. She couldn’t believe how good the fabric felt or how lovely and delicate the colors were. She’d always assumed that the fact Amish clothing was plain meant it couldn’t also be pretty. But the simple colors and the way the fabric flowed was more beautiful than anything she was used to.
She chose the green dress, and then paid close attention to every tuck, fold and pleat as Rosie helped her pin it on. After that the younger woman waited while Celeste brushed her hair and curled it into a bun, and then helped her pin her white starched kapp in place.
They walked through a hallway and down the stairs to the kitchen. Warmth and clatter rose to greet her, with the smells of sizzling bacon and eggs. They stepped into the kitchen. It was the largest kitchen she’d ever seen, with drip coffee brewing on the wood-burning stove and a long wooden table that she imagined would sit at least fifteen. It was laden with breads, jams, preserves, fruit compote and skillets of eggs and cheese.
Amos, Mark, David and Samuel were so engrossed in their breakfast and happy conversation that they didn’t seem to have noticed her. But her eyes were drawn to one man, sitting tall and strong at the side of the table, in a simple white shirt and overalls, his dark hair with a touch of curl bent low over his food. Jonathan turned and looked up at her with a look so simple and honest that it stole her words from her lips.
She then realized the only one missing was his father, Eli.
“Gude mariye! Good morning!” Miriam’s voice turned her attention to the sideboard, where Miriam stood with a frothy pitcher of milk. “How did you sleep?”
“Very well,” Celeste said, her voice sounding more relaxed than she was used to. “I think that was the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had.”
All forks dropped and conversation stopped. The men rose, but Jonathan was quickest to his feet.
“Welcome,” Amos said. “We apologize for starting to eat without you, but Miriam said we should let you sleep and that you’d probably prefer a more relaxed start your morning.”
Celeste felt a smile cross her lips. “Yes, she was right, thank you.”
There was a slight pause, then Amos waved his hands and people sat down and went back to eating. All but Jonathan, who stayed standing, his eyes locked on her face with a look so genuine and raw that it was like they were the only two people in the kitchen. Maybe even in the world. He pulled out the chair beside him. She walked over to him. He waited.
“We’ll talk later, after breakfast,” he said quietly. “How are you?”
His hand brushed her back as he pulled the chair out for her. They sat. She turned to look at him. How was it possible this extraordinary man was just inches away from her, sharing a meal with her in his family home?
“I’m very good,” she said. And she was, in a way she didn’t know how to explain or put into words. Here in this kitchen, with people she barely knew, she felt at peace in a way she couldn’t ever remember feeling before. That longing in her heart had returned, tugging her toward the place where it belonged. Could it be something like this? A large, warm kitchen with a table full of food? A married couple in love with four children and another on the way? A space filled with people who clearly cared about each other and God?
Conversation flowed cheerfully and happily around the table. David told her that he’d found three eggs the day before and wondered how many he’d find today. Samuel wanted to go sledding. Rosie was excited her favorite horse was going to have a foal.
They lingered over the meal, sitting and talking long after the food was done. When the meal was done, Amos rose to help Miriam and Rosie clear the dishes. When Celeste tried to join them, Miriam waved a hand in her direction, with a smile on her face that was inscrutable yet sweet. “Why don’t you get Jonathan to show you around the farm?”
“I’ll help you!” David shouted, rising to his feet.
Samuel was only a moment away on his heels. “I’m coming, too!”
Celeste glanced at Jonathan. He looked at the boy’s eager faces. A smile beamed across his face and set something alight in his eyes, as if he was seeing for the first time something he’d thought he’d lost.
“I’m sure your uncle Jonathan and Celeste would like a quiet walk...” Amos started.
But Jonathan held up a hand. “I’d love for David and Samuel to show us around. If that’s all right with Celeste.”
“It’s very all right,” she said.
The boys yelped and ran for the door, only remembering to pause and clear their dishes when their father waved his hand ever so slightly in their direction. The boys wriggled into their boots and put their hats on. When they dashed outside, two farm dogs raced up to greet them.
“There are a couple pairs of boots by the door,” Miriam said. “Take whichever pair fits you best, and we’ll pick up some that are the right size from the store later today. There are mittens on the bench. The cloak and bonnet closest to the door are for you.”
“Thank you,” Celeste said, realizing she’d said the words more in the past few hours than she’d said in her life. “How do I say that in Pennsylvania Dutch?”
“Danke.” Miriam smiled widely.
Celeste felt her own smile grow in response. “Danke.”
She slid her feet into a pair of soft brown boots and slipped the cloak around her shoulders. It was warm and comforting. A gentle blast of cold air made her look up. Jonathan was holding the door open. A warm brown jacket sat around his shoulders, and a wide-brimmed hat covered his head. He reached for her arm.
“It’s pretty icy,” he said. “Let me help you. The paths can be kind of tricky until you get used to them.” Her hand slid neatly into the crook of his arm. She followed him outside. The farmhouse door slid closed behind them.
“I want you to wear a cloak and bonnet whenever you’re outside,” he said. “I don’t think we have to worry about aerial drones here. We’d be able to see them a mile away. But I will feel better knowing that you’re as unrecognizable as possible.”
She nodded. “Agreed.”
Her eyes scanned his form. The simple coat highlighted the muscles of his broad shoulders and chest, tapering down to his abs. Then she blinked as something hit her.
“You’re not carrying your gun! Where is it?”
“In a locked box in the shed,” Jonathan said. A frown creased the lines between his eyes. “It was the condition my pa set. We are welcome in his house and he will protect us. But all weapons have to stay outside.”