Amish Rescue
“Let me have a look,” Joachim suggested. He motioned Victor to take the lead and then glanced again into the house. The woman had disappeared.
Joachim sighed at his own foolishness. He knew better than to play hide-and-seek with an Englisch woman. He needed employment, not involvement in a domestic dispute. Although she and Victor seemed an unlikely match. Perhaps she was a caregiver for his mother. Still, something did not seem right. Whether she was there as an employee, a spouse or a guest...no woman should look so afraid.
After rounding the house, Joachim climbed to the back porch. Quickly he inspected the sagging roof and rotting soffits, trying to get his mind off the woman who continued to tug at his heart.
His gaze turned to the kitchen window. He stepped closer in pretense of examining the sill, all the while peering through the glass, searching the kitchen and hallway beyond for some sign of the woman.
Victor stood to the side. “If I do hire you,” he warned, scratching his chin, “I won’t stand for laziness or slipshod work.”
Movement caught Joachim’s eye. Something or someone hurried across the entrance hallway to the front door.
“I understand your concern, but you will not find me to be lazy or my work slipshod,” Joachim said, hoping to keep Victor’s attention on the disrepair instead of what was happening inside the house.
Feeling the need to provide a distraction, Joachim tapped the sill and pushed on the wood before moving to the next window and repeating his assessment.
“Yah,” he finally said. “There is much work to be done. I could start tomorrow. Pay me only if you are satisfied with the completed job.”
“I’ll think it over.” Victor took another slug of his coffee. “Stop by tomorrow, and I’ll let you know.”
Joachim nodded. “Sounds gut.”
Leaving Victor on the porch, Joachim returned to the front of the house. He glanced at the outbuildings and barn in the distance. Had the woman left the house? Was she now hiding close at hand, or was he making more out of that which was innocent?
“Sarah?” Victor’s voice sounded as he entered the house.
Joachim climbed into the buggy and flicked the reins. Thankfully, Belle responded with a brisk trot.
Although Joachim kept his eyes on the road, he knew he was not alone. He had seen the tarp—which had been neatly folded and stowed away earlier—strewed over the back of the buggy. Someone was hiding under the thick covering.
He hurried the mare along the driveway and felt a sense of relief as he guided Belle onto the main road.
A sports car raced by, going much too fast. The woman in the passenger’s seat turned to stare at Joachim as if she had never seen an Amish man.
Too soon, the sound of another vehicle filled the air.
Joachim looked back, seeing a red pickup truck turn out of the Thomin driveway. Victor sat behind the wheel. The tires squealed as he gunned the engine.
Would he pass by as the other car had done or stop and demand to know who or what was hiding under the tarp in Joachim’s buggy?
Coming home had been a mistake. More than reconciling with his father, Joachim needed to reconcile with himself as to why he was so eager to help an Englisch woman on the run.
TWO
Sarah blinked back tears and tried to calm her heart before it ricocheted out of her chest. She had been a fool to think she could escape. The squeal of tires and the whine of a vehicle approaching the buggy made her realize the full extent of her mistake.
She curled into an even smaller ball and prayed the tarp would keep her hidden. After two months of captivity, she shuddered at the thought of what her punishment might be if Victor found her. Plus, she had put the Amish man in danger, and now he would be subject to Victor’s wrath, as well. The man driving the buggy was innocent of any wrongdoing and had stepped, quite literally, into a perfect storm that was getting worse by the moment.
That she had grabbed the opportunity to run away from Victor still stunned her. An action she never would have taken if not for his abuse earlier this morning. She had planned to escape with Miriam after they were reunited. Her sister would have known what to do and where to go. Miriam had saved Sarah from the fire. She would have saved her from Victor, as well.
Instead, the Amish man with the broad shoulders and understanding gaze had been the catalyst that had Sarah running for her life. Even when peering down at him from the window, she had felt an instant surge of hope when their eyes met, as if he knew she was in danger and had come to her rescue.
The hope evaporated with the deafening roar of the motor vehicle. She fisted her hands and bit down on her lip, willing herself to remain still while internally she wanted to kick her feet and wail like a small child who didn’t want to be punished for some misdeed. Yet she had done nothing wrong.
Victor was the one at fault, a fact she needed to remember. How thoroughly he had filled her mind with lies so that she sometimes confused her innocence with guilt.
“You’re the reason, Sarah, that we have to hide from the police,” Victor had complained on more than one occasion. “If I didn’t need to protect you, I would be free to come and go. Instead, we must hole up and hide out so the corrupt cops won’t find you and sell you into slavery along with your sister.”
He had brainwashed her with his constant badgering about her guilt. Fear, fatigue and her dulled senses, caused by the drugs he forced on her, had added to her confusion.
Thankfully, today, she was able to think rationally enough to seize the opportunity to escape. Pulling in a fortifying breath, she smelled the musty scent of the tarp mixed with the damp cool air of the encroaching storm. If dark clouds hung overhead, hopefully, they weren’t a harbinger of what would happen to her in the next few moments.
Instead of the weather, she focused on the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the pavement and tried to ignore the blast of a horn and the revved acceleration of the vehicle that forced the buggy to the side of the road.
“Hold up there, Belle.” The deep voice of the Amish man quieting his horse should have calmed her unease, but knowing Victor was the reason brought another volley of fear to wrap around her spine and underscored the seriousness of her situation as the buggy came to a stop.
God help me, she silently prayed. Help the Amish man. Save both of us from Victor.
“Hey, Amish.” Victor’s voice. “Did you see a woman leave my house?”
“Your mudder?”
“Not my mother.” Victor’s sharp retort reminded Sarah of the caustic tone he often used with her. “A twenty-one-year-old woman wearing jeans and a sweater.”
“She is your schweschder?” The Amish voice was deep and calming.
“What?” Victor didn’t understand.
“Your schweschder,” the Amish man repeated. “Is your sister the woman for whom you are searching?”
“I don’t have a sister,” Victor spat. “I’m looking for the woman who works for us, helping my mother. Did you see anyone?”
“A car passed by, heading toward Petersville. A woman sat in the passenger seat. The man driving had a bald head.”
“What color was the woman’s hair?”
“Blond. This is perhaps the woman you are seeking?”
Victor grumbled. A car door slammed and tires squealed as he drove away. Sarah held her breath and listened to the sound of the engine disappearing into the distance.
“He’s gone.” The Amish man’s voice was low and reassuring. “You can come out now.”
He had known she was under the tarp?
She raised the edge of the covering and stared up at a square jaw, furrowed brow and deep-set eyes filled with question.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked.
She hadn’t expected his concern or the tears that filled her eyes. “Not until today.”
“He will return soon. Plus, a storm is approaching.”
She looked at the darkening sky.
“I will take you someplace safe. Do you have family in the area?”
She glanced at a nearby road sign—Petersville 5 miles, Willkommen 30 miles—and shook her head. “My sister will be here tomorrow or the day after. She’ll make sure I’m safe once she arrives.”
“But today you need lodging,” he said, calmly stating the obvious. “Stay under the tarp in case Victor returns.”
Without further discussion, he turned his gaze to the road and clicked his tongue. The buggy jerked as the horse responded. Sarah found the sound of the horse’s hooves on the pavement and the sway of the carriage mildly soothing.
She didn’t know anything about the Amish man, yet he had helped her escape. She had to trust him, at least for the moment. From what she knew about the Amish, they kept to themselves and had little to do with law enforcement. If so, the man in the buggy might help her elude the crooked cops who had hijacked Miriam’s car and were searching for both sisters even now. He might also help her reconnect with Miriam and take both of them to safety. But where would that be?
Sarah had moved from town to town her entire life with no place to call home except the short-term rentals where she and her mother and sisters had lived for a month or two at most, before moving on to the next temporary lodging. How foolish she was to think her life in the future would be different, no matter how much she longed for stability and a home of her own.
Relieved though Sarah was to be free of Victor, she worried about his mother now left home alone with her crazed son. Over the last few weeks, Ms. Hazel’s condition had deteriorated much too quickly, making Sarah wonder if Victor was doing something to speed up her decline.
Concern for the older woman weighed heavily on Sarah’s shoulders, but she couldn’t do anything to help Ms. Hazel at the moment. Right now, she needed to close her eyes and rest. Sarah had escaped, although she felt anything but free while hiding under the tarp with Victor prowling the area in search of her.
Should Victor return to question her rescuer again, would the Amish man whose faith embraced peaceful nonresistance be able to save her? Or would Victor find her? She shuddered at the thought, knowing that if he got his hands on her once more, Victor would ensure Sarah never escaped again.
* * *
The dark sky mirrored Joachim’s inner struggle. Passing through the intersection where Eli died had been Joachim’s undoing earlier. Now he was hiding a woman he did not know. The added complication only made him more conflicted.
All too clearly, he had recognized the pain on the woman’s face as she glanced down at him from the window and again as she stood on the stairway inside the Thomin house, her finger to her lips and her eyes pleading for mercy. Her expression had reminded Joachim of his own sense of hopelessness and despair that had overwhelmed him following his brother’s death.
Was that what had drawn Joachim to the woman and made him long to protect her?
He glanced at the rear of the buggy, where she lay under the tarp. By the steady rise and fall of the heavy covering, he presumed she had fallen asleep, which was probably for the best. Fatigue had lined her face along with fear that made him grateful he had come to her rescue.
The wind picked up, and the temperature dropped as dark clouds billowed overhead. Joachim needed to find shelter before the storm brought more chaos to this already confusing day.
He flicked the reins, hurrying Belle. Instinctively, she knew the route he had chosen to take.
The woman needed a place to hole up for a day or two until she could connect with her sister. Petersville was the nearest town, but that was the direction Victor had gone. When he failed to find her there, he would more than likely retrace his route to search more thoroughly in the local area.
The Burkholder farm adjoined the Thomin property, but the road connecting the two homes took a circuitous route around the fields and pastures. Glancing at the sky, Joachim wondered if Belle would get them to shelter in time.
If his father was tilling the soil in the distant acreage, Joachim might be able to signal his sister, Rebecca, especially if she was working in the garden. She had written him faithfully while he was away, telling him about the family. In spite of the breezy news she shared, Joachim had read between the lines, all too aware of the emotional anguish Eli’s death had caused his family.
More than anything, Joachim longed to see Mamm again, yet his mother would abide by the rules his father established. Having to watch her turn her back on him would be almost too hard to bear.
And the woman hiding in the back of his buggy? If his father forbid Joachim entry into the house, he would hole up in the barn and give the woman as long as she needed to decide where she wanted to go. Until that time, Joachim would stand guard, ensuring Victor did not find her.
But would she want Joachim’s help?
He shook his head. An Englisch woman was not in his future, yet whether he liked it or not, she was very much in his present. More than anything, Joachim wanted to keep her safe from Victor and from anyone else who might cause her harm.
THREE
In her dream, Sarah watched Victor raise his hand to strike her. She screamed, then flailed her arms and tried to free herself from the shroud that covered her.
“You are safe.” Hands reached for her, removed the heavy covering and pulled her into an embrace.
Not Victor, but the Amish man.
“Shh,” he soothed, cradling her like a child.
It was the first comfort she had felt in far too long. She buried her head against his neck, wanting to remain forever enveloped in his warm and protective hold.
Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, wetting his cotton shirt. Hearing the rain, she was more than grateful to be under cover and out of the storm, and even more grateful for the human contact.
The rapid thump of his heart proved the Amish man wasn’t a figment of her imagination. She nestled closer, not wanting to open her eyes or leave the security of his embrace for which she had hungered too long.
Thunder crashed overhead.
“Joachim?” A woman’s voice said the name, her tone filled with surprise.
Another clap of thunder.
Her Amish protector tensed and pulled back ever so slightly.
Sarah clung to him for a moment before her eyes fluttered open.
His head was turned. She followed his gaze to the woman dressed in a calf-length blue dress, white apron and bonnet, who stood just inside the open barn door.
Outside, rain pummeled the earth. The day had turned dark as night. Or was it night already? She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The woman’s questioning frown seemed equally dark. Perhaps she was the man’s wife. The thought cut through Sarah’s heart. She had been such a fool.
Embarrassed by her neediness and the way she had reached out to the man, she untangled her arms from where they had wrapped around him.
He glanced down at her, a glint of confusion flashing from his dark eyes.
Was he upset that his wife had found him giving comfort to a woman who wanted nothing more than to return to his embrace?
“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, trying to make sense of what had happened. “I was asleep. I didn’t realize...”
“Who are you?” the Amish woman demanded, glancing first at Sarah and then turning her frosty gaze to the man. “Joachim, is there something you did not tell me in your letters?”
“She needs help, Rebecca.”
“Yah, and it looks like you need help as well from the way you clutched the Englischer to your heart.”
“Father is in the house?” he asked, seemingly sidetracking the issue at hand.
Rebecca shook her head. “He and Mamm are visiting Aunt Mildred and Uncle Frank in Kentucky. They will be gone for a few more days. Had you written that you were coming home, they might not have left.”
Sarah was trying to follow the conversation and understand the undercurrent of what was really being said. The man had mentioned his father. No, his tone implied that it was their father. Was the woman not his wife?
“Excuse me,” Sarah said, pulling away from him and peering at both of them. “You’re not married?”
The woman huffed. “Why do you think this?”
Evidently, Sarah had jumped to the wrong conclusion. She held up her hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to offend either of you.”
She turned to Joachim. “Thank you for bringing me here. If I could stay in the barn until the storm passes, I would appreciate it.”
His brow furrowed. “You plan to leave?” He shook his head. “This cannot be.”
He climbed from the buggy and motioned to the Amish woman. “We must take our guest into the house.”
Glancing back, his gaze burrowed into hers. “Your name is Sarah?”
She nodded. “Sarah Miller.”
“I’m Joachim Burkholder.” He pointed to the other woman. “My sister, Rebecca.”
The weight on Sarah’s shoulders lifted ever so slightly. Sister. Not wife. Tears again stung her eyes.
“She needs food and lodging, Rebecca.”
The Amish woman stepped closer. Her earlier scowl softened but she seemed hesitant to offer Sarah a hearty welcome.
“We must hurry,” Joachim said. “Before Victor returns.”
Rebecca grasped her brother’s arm. “Victor Thomin?”
“Yah. He is staying at his mother’s house.”
“Ach,” his sister groaned, with a shake of her head. “Naomi said he is not a good man.”
“You know Naomi?” Sarah asked. “Victor’s mother kept asking for her.”
Rebecca nodded. “Naomi lived nearby. She cared for Ms. Hazel while Victor was away.”
Joachim pointed to the open barn door. “The rain eases. We must go inside.”
He reached for Sarah and helped her from the buggy. Taking her hand, he hurried her out of the barn.
Dark clouds rolled overhead. Another storm was approaching, but Sarah breathed in the cleansing air, feeling a sense of relief. She had escaped Victor. She had a place to stay. At least for now, she was free.
A bolt of lightning pierced the sky and struck nearby. The almost-immediate crash made Sarah realize everything could change in an instant.
She would never be free of Victor, not until the hateful man was stopped.
* * *
The rain intensified just before Joachim and Sarah reached the porch. Another sound was discernable over the rain. He glanced at the drive and tensed. A horse and buggy scurried along the main road. For a long moment, Joachim stared after the buggy and then let out a deep breath.
“You thought it was Victor, didn’t you?” she pressed.
He squeezed Sarah’s hand, hoping to provide reassurance and bring comfort to her seemingly still-anxious heart. “Victor will not find you here.”
At least that was Joachim’s hope.
Together they climbed the steps to the porch. He opened the door and motioned her inside. She wiped her feet on the latched rug and hurried into the kitchen.
A sense of calm and right order enveloped Joachim as he stepped over the threshold and stopped to take in the peacefulness that pervaded the space. Glancing at the familiar furnishings—the table and chairs, dry sink and cabinets—his datt had made, Joachim soaked in the aura of home and family he had missed for the last five years.
“Rebecca can brew coffee,” he said, hoping his voice did not reveal the mix of emotions that had welled up within him upon entering the house. He turned to the newcomer. “Perhaps you would prefer tea?”
Sarah glanced at Rebecca, who hurried in behind them.
“I have cold cuts and cheese and fresh baked bread if you are hungry.”
“Thank you both,” Sarah said. “But first, I need to wash my hands and face, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” Rebecca pointed to the stairs. “I will take you to the room where you will stay the night. Joachim must tend his mare. We will eat after he returns from the barn.”
His sister turned as if to shoo him outside. But despite her prompting, he was slow to head to the door. He did not want to leave the home to which he had only now returned. He also did not want to leave Sarah.
He gently touched her shoulder. “So much has happened, but you are not to worry. Victor is in town, searching for you there.”
“And if he comes here?” she asked.
“I will not let him into the house.”
Belle needed to be groomed and fed. Rebecca would take care of Sarah until he returned. Still, leaving the house this time was almost as hard as leaving the mountains had been five years ago.
How could he have grown so attached to a woman—an Englisch woman—in such a short period of time? He knew nothing about her except that she needed a safe place to stay for a day or two. He and Rebecca would open their home to her, but Joachim needed to be careful. As taken as he was by her in such a short time, he feared what might happen in the days ahead. He must guard not only Sarah, but also his heart.
FOUR
Joachim had said that he would keep her safe. As much as Sarah wanted to believe him, she was worried. Victor was unpredictable, and his mood swings had grown progressively more extreme. He had warned her never to leave him, but she’d done just that. Given how angry he’d been before over smaller infractions, what would his response be to this?
Rebecca filled a pitcher with water and motioned for Sarah to follow her. “A diesel pump runs our well, so we always have water in the house,” the Amish woman explained as they climbed the stairs. “Propane heats our water for washing and bathing. Later I will fill a tub for you.”
On the second floor, she ushered Sarah into a small but spotlessly clean bedroom. A beige patchwork quilt pieced with blue triangles covered the single bed. A chest of drawers, table and straight-back chair filled the room.
Rebecca placed the pitcher on the chest next to a large porcelain bowl. She opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a thick terry-cloth towel, a bar of soap and a glass bottle.
“I made the soap and shampoo and added natural oils to both products. I hope you will find them to your liking.”
“Thank you, Rebecca. You and your brother have been so thoughtful.”
Rebecca seemed to appreciate the compliment that hopefully would wash away her earlier concern about Sarah. The Amish woman offered a weak smile. Her cheeks glowed pink with a mix of embarrassment and appreciation. “Come downstairs when you are ready to eat.”
Sarah glanced at the inviting bed, wishing she could hide under the covers and curl into a ball. Maybe then she wouldn’t worry about Victor finding her again. Was she safe here? Sarah needed to learn more about Joachim Burkholder and his Amish family. Thanks to them, she had a place to stay, at least for now.
She scrubbed her face and hands and dabbed water through her hair, appreciating the clean, fresh scent of the bar soap and eyeing the liquid shampoo. Using the bath products Rebecca had made would be a welcome treat, although so much could happen in the hours ahead. Sarah needed to focus on figuring out what she needed to do to remain free from Victor instead of on creature comforts like having a long soak in a hot tub.
After patting her face and hands dry, she returned to the kitchen.
“The coffee is hot,” Rebecca said in greeting. “Or as Joachim mentioned, I could make tea.”
“He’s still in the barn?” Sarah asked, knowing nothing about farm life and feeling somewhat awkward around his sister.
“Yah. Joachim feeds his horse before he feeds himself.”
“You seemed surprised to see him.”
The Amish woman nodded. “He has been gone from our home for a number of years. It is gut to have him back again.”
“Do you have other siblings?”
“A brother, Eli, died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was Gott’s will.”
Sarah didn’t want to think about a loving God taking anyone’s life. At the moment, she longed for something to keep her mind on anything other than death. “May I help you prepare the lunch?”