Czytaj książkę: «The Amish Witness»

ONE

Elizabeth Lapp couldn’t distinguish anything out of the ordinary in the shrouded stillness of the empty Amish landscape. She lifted her kerosene lamp closer to the windowpane, pressing her face against the cool glass, and stared harder. Still nothing but dark winter shadows sheltered by even darker ones stretching across the Lancaster farm.

He was out there.

She knew it.

If not today, tomorrow or the next day, but he’d be there. Every instinct told her he would come. She’d seen him standing over Hannah’s dead body—and he’d seen her.

He’d come. If only to silence her...

Dear Lord, please keep me safe. Bless me with inner peace and wisdom as I face the days ahead. And thank You, Lord, for leading me home.

The first glow of morning sun would not touch the horizon for a few more hours. Elizabeth chastised herself. There was work to do, more than enough to occupy her mind, and she needed to get to it. Chores came early on an Amish farm, even in winters in Lancaster County, when the fields lay dormant under drifts of waist-high snow.

A finger of light from the quarter moon was the only thing illuminating the distance between the house and the barn. She studied the shadows. She dared one of them to move and prayed in the same moment that none would.

Where was he? How much longer would she be tortured with the wait?

She raised her face from the glass.

Enough. You’re going to make yourself sick. Where is your faith?

“What do you look for, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth startled at the sound of her mother’s voice. Her left hand flew to her chest. She swallowed a small gasp and spun around.

“You frightened me, Mamm. I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Don’t be foolish. I come down these stairs the same time each morning to fix breakfast and begin the day.” Mary Lapp came close, smoothed a strand of hair beneath her daughter’s white prayer kapp and smiled. “Why do you stare out that window? Tell me, child, what do you hope to find out there in the darkness?”

It was what she didn’t want to find that frightened her so.

She returned her mother’s smile. “I’m not hoping to find anything, Mamm. I guess I’m having trouble adjusting to how dark it is here. There’s always light in the city. No matter what time it is. The city never seems to sleep.”

A shadow flitted across her mother’s face. “Do you miss it already? Are you sorry you came home?”

“I’m just sorry I stayed away so long.” Elizabeth had only arrived home yesterday afternoon, but she knew she had made the right decision to return. She placed her lamp on the table near the front door and a soft light enveloped the room.

Seven years had added a few strands of gray to her mother’s hair. The small lines etched at the edges of her mouth had deepened, and now there were crow’s feet at the edges of her eyes, but her mother would always be young and beautiful in her eyes.

“I don’t miss the city, Mamm, and I’m glad to be home.”

Her mother gave her a warm hug. “I’m glad you’re home, too.”

Sadness wiped the smile from Elizabeth’s face. “I regret I wasn’t here when Daed died. I never got the chance to say goodbye.”

Her father had died two years ago of pneumonia. Her mother’s eyes still carried her grief. Elizabeth hadn’t learned he was sick until it was too late.

“I am sorry, too, little one. Your daed would have been pleased to have you home again. Maybe the Lord has told him you are here now. If he does know, I am certain your daed is thanking Gott every day.” Mary playfully pinched her daughter’s chin. “Kumm. Help me with breakfast.”

Elizabeth followed her mother into the kitchen and lit two more lamps, as well as the gas fixture over the table. She stared at the long wooden table and smoothed her hand against the grain. Her father had made this table as a wedding gift for her mother over thirty years ago and it still looked brand-new. A pang of loss filled her heart. She wished she could have seen him one more time before he died.

“I don’t remember your head always being lost in the clouds. Is that something you learned to do in that fancy city of yours?”

Elizabeth returned her mother’s smile. “Sorry, Mamm. Just thinking about Daed. Wishing I had been here...”

“No good comes from looking behind you. We can’t change the past.” Her mother turned from the stove. “He never stopped loving you. Never.” Her mother smiled. “And he knew you never stopped loving him. He understood your decision to leave even if he didn’t agree with your choice.”

Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes.

Silence stretched between them.

She remembered the last day she had seen her father. It had been an early winter morning like today and they’d been talking in the barn. She remembered his look of disappointment, the pain and loss already reflected in his eyes, and the warmth and love of his final embrace moments before she left.

“Elizabeth, please, get that head of yours out of the sky. We have chores to do.”

Elizabeth nodded, gathered plates, silverware and mugs and set the table.

The delectable aroma of bacon and freshly brewing coffee teased her nostrils. Her stomach growled. Because her stomach had been too twisted in knots with dread and fear, she hadn’t eaten much at dinner last night. But this morning she was hungry and nothing was going to snatch away her appetite.

“Could you gather some eggs from the henhouse?” her mother called over her shoulder from her spot at the propane-powered stove.

“If I can bring in a jar of your strawberry jam from the pantry to smother on your homemade bread I like so much.”

Her mother smiled and waved her away. “Ja. Ja. Now go.”

Elizabeth decided not to bother with a coat. From the house to the barn was such a short distance and she would only be exposed to the elements for a brief time. She threw a shawl over her shoulders, grabbed the hurricane lamp and hurried out the door. She’d barely cleared the third step down from the porch when a prickling sensation raced up her spine and froze her in place. She threw her gaze in one direction and then another. Looking. Anticipating.

Nothing.

Just a foolish girl’s imagination running wild. That’s what city life did to you. You don’t trust anything or anyone anymore, do you?

She held the lamp high. The only sound was ice cracking on tree branches. Her feet wanted to scamper across the yard, but she forced herself to step off the final stair and walk slowly and purposely toward the barn.

Dear Lord, please help me stop being so afraid. If he had followed me, wouldn’t he be here by now?

She took one final look around the yard.

Darkness covered the objects and bushes like shrouds.

She knew she was being foolish. No one in the city except her best friend, Hannah, had known she came from an Amish background. And Hannah had never told anyone. Had she?

Mental images of the tall man standing over Hannah’s dead body flashed through her mind. Who was he? And why had he killed Hannah?

When she reached the barn door, she lifted the latch and swung it wide. The pitch-black interior gave her pause. Holding her lantern high, she stepped inside and moved deeper into the barn.

The pungent smells of livestock, hay and manure were a far cry from the exhaust fumes of the city, but they pinged nostalgia, reminding her she was home once again, and it felt good. The cows bawled as she approached, indicating their need for milking. She’d have to hurry with breakfast and get back out here to tend to them so her mother wouldn’t have to.

The clucking sound of the hens in the chicken coop drew her back to the task at hand. She rubbed her hands together and blew warmth into them. Maybe she should have worn her coat. She opened her apron, holding it with her left hand, and reached inside the coop with her right. Soon she’d gathered enough eggs for both breakfast and a pudding recipe she had learned from one of her friends. Her mother would be surprised to discover that life among the Englisch hadn’t been all bad. She’d learned to cook some wonderful recipes. She nudged the door to the coop closed.

It wasn’t a sound that caught her attention. It was a feeling, an innate sense that she was no longer alone. She swallowed and tried to calm the wave of fear threatening to drown her.

It’s nothing, Elizabeth. You’ve been on edge. Seeing bad men in shadows like children see animals in clouds.

But the internal scolding did little to calm her sense of unease.

The squawking and clucking of the hens in the coop gave her pause. The chickens knew it, too. She wasn’t alone. Someone was standing close behind her...too close.

Taking another gulp, she clutched the apron filled with eggs to her chest and turned around.

A man, his face obscured in the darkness, loomed in the entrance to the barn.

Elizabeth gasped. “Who are you?” she asked. “What do you want?”

The stranger moved into the light and Elizabeth’s heart stuttered.

It was him. The man she’d seen standing over Hannah’s body.

“I want what your friend gave you. It belongs to me.” The coldness in his tone froze her in place.

Elizabeth’s eyes shot around the barn. Where could she run and hide? What could she use as a weapon if she was forced to protect herself?

“You know who I am, don’t you?” he demanded.

Elizabeth took a step back. “No, sir, I don’t. Please...leave. I don’t know who you are. I don’t have anything that belongs to you.” She straightened her spine and tried to exude strength she didn’t feel. “If you don’t leave this property, I am going to send for the sheriff.”

Then her deepest fear became a reality. He moved toward her with such speed she barely had time to react.

Elizabeth’s throat muscles froze and she couldn’t scream. She backed up as fast as she could until her body slammed against a solid surface. Trapped against the chicken coop with nowhere to run, sheer panic raced through her veins.

No. No.

Elizabeth raised her hands to cover her face, dropping the edges of her apron. The eggs smashed on the ground and a few rolled across the floor.

Within seconds he was on her, his hands clasping her shoulders, his face inches from her own.

“You want me to leave? Then give me what’s mine and I will.” He shook her shoulders and banged her against the wooden piling behind her. “I’m not playing. Unless you want the same fate as your friend you will give it to me.”

Spittle sprayed across her face as he screamed at her.

She kicked at his shins and tried to scramble from his grasp. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hannah didn’t give me anything. Go away. Please. Leave me alone.”

An almost evil sneer came over his face. “Hannah? So you do remember me.” He dug his fingertips painfully into the soft flesh of her upper arms. “Don’t make the same mistake she did. Just give me what’s mine and we’ll call it even. I’ll go away and leave you to live your life in this forsaken place.”

“Please, mister, I don’t know what you want. I don’t know who you are. Hannah didn’t give me anything of yours.”

He squeezed her arms harder and tears sprang to her eyes.

“She told me she did. She told me with her dying breath. I don’t believe an Amish woman would pick that time to lie.”

Trapped against the piling behind her, Elizabeth twisted in his grip. “Leave me alone!” She reached up and clawed at his eye.

He yelped in pain and for a split second he grabbed his face and released his grip on her arms.

It was all she needed. She threw herself sideways. The sudden shift in weight threw her off balance. She stumbled over his boot and fell hard against the wooden floor of the barn, the breath temporarily knocked out of her.

He stood over her, just like she’d seen him standing over Hannah. His hands moved to her throat. “She told me you had the information I need. Do you really think I’m going to let you ruin my life? Unless you give it to me, I’ll have no choice but to make sure you suffer the same fate she did. Is that what you want?”

His hands squeezed her throat.

“Please...” she whispered. “I don’t have anything. I don’t know what you want.”

“Hey! You! Get away.” Another man, an Amish man by the sound of his dialect, entered the barn and ran out of the shadows straight toward them. “Leave her alone.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw the man grab a pitchfork and continue toward them.

The stranger gave one long, hard squeeze to her throat and whispered close to her face. “This isn’t over. I’ll be back. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut or I will permanently shut it for you.”

He turned and ran toward the barn’s open back door. Just as quickly as he’d come he was gone.

Elizabeth rolled to her side, coughing, trying desperately to draw oxygen into her lungs.

The Amish man, whoever he was, had just saved her life.

* * *

Thomas King kneeled beside the woman who was crumpled in a heap on the dirt floor.

“Mrs. Lapp?”

What had happened? Who was that man and why had he attacked Mrs. Lapp?

Thomas offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving that he had arrived when he did. He came to the farm at the same time every morning since her husband had died. He wished he could devote more time to help out on her farm, but it was all he could spare from his own farm and family. Mrs. Lapp had always been grateful and appreciative of his help. His body shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if he had arrived a few minutes later.

“Mrs. Lapp?” His hands trembled as he reached for the woman. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he gently turned her toward him. “Are you all right?”

The lantern light dappled across her face.

This wasn’t Mrs. Lapp.

He stared into the woman’s face and a shaft of pain shot through his chest. He knew this face all too well. It was a face he’d thought he’d put out of his mind and his life forever, a face he’d once loved.

Elizabeth.

His eyes quickly scanned her from head to toe for any obvious injuries and found none. “Elizabeth?”

The shock registering in her pale blue eyes must have mirrored his.

“Thomas?”

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head.

“What are you doing here? Who was that man?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” She sat up and then allowed him to help her to her feet. Her hand felt tiny in his and her fingers trembled despite the outer calmness she tried to display.

Elizabeth gently pulled her hand from his. She brushed dirt and pieces of hay from her dress and apron. “I don’t know what you are doing here at this hour but I am glad you are. I hate to think what would have happened to me if you hadn’t come when you did.”

“Who was he?” Thomas glared at her. He knew his emotions were flashing across his features, but he was too surprised at what had happened, too shocked at whom it happened to, too upset to gain control. “What did he want? Why was he trying to hurt you? And what are you doing back at your mamm’s house?”

“Let’s go inside.” She threw a nervous glance over her shoulder. “I don’t know if that man is still around.” She took a step forward and stumbled.

Immediately, Thomas reached out, clasped her elbow and steadied her. “Are you hurt?” he asked again.

“No,” she whispered. “Just shaken up.” She placed her head against his chest for just a second while she steadied herself. He could smell the fresh scent of her hair despite her prayer kapp covering locks he knew were silky and blond. He remembered her scent, fresh soap and lemon, from their rumspringa days, when he’d lie awake at night and think of her.

Before she’d betrayed him.

Before she’d abandoned him.

Pain and anger washed over him. Where had she been all these years? And why was she back?

She felt small and fragile leaning against him.

He couldn’t help himself. He wanted to hold her closer, tighter. Maybe if he did, she wouldn’t run away this time.

But she was good at that, wasn’t she? Running away. Leaving without a word.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” She straightened and stepped away. “When I think of what could have happened if you hadn’t come...if you hadn’t helped.” She stared at him, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Denki, Thomas.”

What had happened between them seven years ago was ancient history. They both lived different lives now. He wouldn’t let himself feel or remember or care. Not again.

But images of the man’s hands around Elizabeth’s throat filled him with rage. The possibility of what could have happened threatened to overpower him with a raw, primal fear. He had lost her once. He wouldn’t be able to handle losing her again. Especially in such a heinous way.

Lord, everything happens in life according to Your plan. But this? Lord, help me understand and be strong enough to accept whatever Your plan entails.