At Home in Pleasant Valley (64 page)

The tension in Anna ebbed as well. Myra had taken the first step on a long, difficult road.

•   •   •

The
closer the buggy got to the Esch home, the more Anna wanted to run in the other direction. Coward, she chided herself, but it didn't seem to do much good.

She glanced at Samuel. His strong face was shielded by the brim of
his straw hat so that she couldn't see his eyes, but she imagined that his tension had increased as well.

They had talked during the long ride, mostly about how Myra had been over the past few days. She had seen the counselor again yesterday, and again had come home quiet and withdrawn, but overall she seemed better. She talked rationally now about the baby, without the frantic optimism she'd displayed before, and she'd expressed a desire to talk to Bishop Mose.

Anna found she was watching Samuel's sure hands on the lines. Other than expressing his deep concern for Myra, he'd kept their conversation casual, a far cry from the moments they'd shared that day in the arbor. Either Samuel didn't feel comfortable pushing too close when she was preoccupied with this visit, or he regretted what had happened between them.

Either way, she should be glad of his retreat. She'd grown to care for Samuel, and she recognized the desire to let that caring ripen into something stronger. But she couldn't do that, not when the future was so uncertain.

Samuel slowed the horse and made the turn into a farm lane. Her throat tightened, and she gripped the seat with both hands.

“Is it too late to change my mind about this?” She was only half-joking.

His gaze assessed her. “It's natural to be nervous.”

“What if they don't forgive me?” She asked the question, but she was afraid to hear the answer.

“If they refuse forgiveness, then the burden of that failure is on them.” He said the words as if no doubt existed in his mind.

“Don't you think that quick forgiveness lets the sinner off too easily?”

“Easily?” He came to a stop some distance from the front porch but didn't move immediately, seeming to ponder the word. “You have suffered for what you did, I think. Maybe you will continue to suffer. It is up to God. All we can do is follow His direction. Forgive, if we wish to be forgiven.” He jumped down and held out his hand to her. “Komm. They're waiting for us.”

He was right—a man and woman stood on the porch.

“Aaron, Elizabeth.” Samuel took over, nodding gravely to them. “This is Anna Beiler.”

Anna's voice seemed to have disappeared. She nodded, taking in the expressions on their faces. The man, his dark hair cut short in a bowl style, his beard wiry, looked at her with what seemed to be curiosity. But the woman—when Anna met her gaze, she felt as if she'd received a blow.

“Komm.” Aaron Esch spoke as he opened the door. “Wilkom to our home.”

They filed into the living room and took seats as solemnly as if they were going to church. And waited. Obviously Anna was supposed to speak first.

She cleared her throat. “Denke.” Her mouth was dry, so dry she didn't know how she was going to get the words out. “I asked to come because I wanted to see you in person to ask for your forgiveness. I regret, so much, that my actions harmed your family.”

They looked back at her, their faces impassive. It was only now, when she thought it might not be granted, that she realized how important their forgiveness had become to her.

Finally Aaron nodded with deliberation. “It is gut that you feel so, but not necessary to ask. We forgave you long ago, as Christ commands.”

Something flickered in the woman's eyes as he said the words, something hidden so quickly that Anna almost missed it. Maybe she only saw the feeling because she was sensitive to everything they did and said. And so she knew. Aaron might have forgiven her, as he said, but Elizabeth had not.

Anna's heart seemed to wince. Was that so surprising? Would she forgive so easily if someone put Gracie in danger?

“Denke. I . . .”

A little girl ran into the room and stopped, obviously taken aback at the presence of strangers. She must have been about five or six, with big brown eyes that studied them curiously.

“Mary, komm, schnell.” The woman rapped out the words and reached for the child. The little girl's face puckered, and she ran to her mother, burying her face in her mamm's apron.

Another blow to her heart. That Elizabeth felt the need to protect her child from Anna—it was almost too painful to bear.

But she had to. That was why she was here.

“I have a daughter of my own now.” She centered her heart on Gracie, searching for the strength to go on. “I didn't understand until I was a mother how terrifying it is when your child is in danger.” Her voice choked in her throat. Tears welled in her eyes. “I know now. You would suffer anything to spare your child.”

She wanted to say more, but the words failed her. She put up a shaking hand to wipe away her tears. Tried to speak again, but could only shake her head, covering her face with her hands.

“Don't be sad.”

Anna was so sunk in her own guilt that she didn't realize at first that it was the little girl who spoke. The child tugged at Anna's hands, pulling them away from her face.

“Don't cry. It'll be all right. My mammi can make it better.”

Anna looked from the child's sweet face to the mother, to see Elizabeth's face crumple. Elizabeth held out her hand, and Anna took it.

A
nna
walked down Main Street, remembering to adjust her stride to the casual stroll of an Amish woman instead of the fast pace of a city dweller. Samuel had wanted to pick up something from the hardware store on their way home, so they'd made a stop in town. Remembering that she was nearly out of Gracie's vitamins, she'd decided to walk the two blocks to the pharmacy.

The maples that lined the town square were already changing color, and a crispness in the air declared that fall was really coming.

Despite her concerns about Myra and her fears of Pete's actions, at this moment she felt only a strong sense of relief. It surprised her, in a way. She hadn't fully realized how much her unpaid debt to the Esch family had weighed on her.

Had Bishop Mose understood that when she'd first come back? Maybe that had been behind his reluctance to let her kneel before the congregation to confess.

If she had confessed then, she'd have been faking it; she knew that now. She'd thought that would be the utmost in humiliation, but really, she'd have been trying to take the easy way out. Bishop Mose hadn't let her go through the motions, and whatever happened to her in the future, she'd be forever grateful.

She pushed open the glass door of the pharmacy, catching a glimpse of herself as she did. To dress Amish meant to be stared at when you went into the English world, but it also gave her a pleasant sense of anonymity. She was any Amish woman, her hair and face half-hidden by the bonnet.

She dawdled in the baby supplies aisle, knowing she didn't have to
hurry. Samuel would dally over his transaction, getting all the news of town while he was at the hardware store.

Thinking about him gave her an odd little flutter in the region of her heart. He had understood, without question, her need to see the Esch family. He'd been confident she could do it—more confident in her than she'd been in herself. She wasn't sure how it had happened, but he'd become so important in her life that it was hard to imagine doing without him.

She carried the vitamins to the counter, exchanging the usual comments about the weather with the clerk as she paid. She would go back to where they'd left the buggy, and Samuel would be waiting. They'd have another half hour or so alone together on the way home. Maybe she could find the words to tell him how much she appreciated his support.

She walked toward the door. Just as she reached it, a rack of newspapers caught her eye. She turned aside to read the headlines, and then glanced through the plate glass window at the street beyond.

Her breath stuck in her throat. Pete—that was Pete, walking across the street toward the square, peering around as if looking for someone. Looking for her.

She recoiled, grabbing the paper rack to steady herself. He couldn't see her, surely he couldn't. She stood safely away from the window. But if she hadn't stopped at the last moment to look at the papers, she'd have walked out onto the street within twenty feet of him. Her heart thudded in her ears, nearly deafening her.

How could he be here? She moved carefully to the other side of the rack, peering toward the small park at the heart of the square. Pete sat down on one of the green benches, glancing up and down the street. He'd picked the perfect location to watch for her, able to see anyone going into or out of the Main Street shops.

Calm down. Think
. He wouldn't be doing that if he knew exactly where she was. That gave her a chance.

But why hadn't Liz called? Her mind skittered off in that direction. Liz must not have realized he'd left Chicago. She'd find out, probably, but by then it would be too late.

Please, Lord, help me think this through. Help me to make the right decision. If I don't—

No, she wouldn't let herself veer down that road. If she let panic take over, she'd lose. She pressed her fingers to her temple, a wordless prayer rising in her heart.

She had to get home, grab Gracie, and get out of here before Pete started working his way through the Beilers in the community. At least he wouldn't find them conveniently listed in the telephone book. That would delay him for a while.

She could go to Rosemary. Rosemary would drive them to Mifflinburg, where they could get a bus to somewhere, anywhere.

She took a breath. She had time. Pete operated on brute force, not brainpower.

Still, sooner or later it would occur to him to start asking around. People, even English people, knew the Beilers.

She couldn't go out on the street. He'd see her for sure if she did that. Wheeling, she hurried to the back of the store.

“Is there a rear door I can use? Please, it's important.”

Maybe it was the quaver in her voice that convinced him. The pharmacist gave her an odd look, but he led her back through the pharmacy shelves to a door that opened onto the alley.

With a quick look in both directions she slipped out, murmuring her thanks. The alley was empty, and she scurried along toward the hardware store, thoughts tumbling even faster than her rushing feet.

Samuel would help her. She just had to get to Samuel. Did Pete know he was looking for an Amish family? Maybe, maybe not, but she couldn't take a risk that he might. Jannie had known.

Oh, Jannie, did you tell him? I trusted you to keep my secret.

Only another block to the hardware store, but now her luck ran out. The alley ended abruptly at a fenced-in lot. She had no choice but to go back to Main Street.

She stopped at the corner, taking advantage of the cover provided by some passing shoppers to peer down the street. Pete was still sitting on the bench, a block down.

She had to get to Samuel. She'd have to pray Pete didn't know he was looking for someone in Amish dress. She waited for the next
passersby and then slipped onto the sidewalk just ahead of them, hoping they screened her from view. Her stomach twisted, and she held her breath, waiting for the sound of running feet, of Pete shouting her name.

Nothing. And there was the hardware store, with its hitching rail along the side for Amish buggies. Samuel stood next to his buggy, lifting a box in.

She couldn't contain herself any longer. She rushed to him, grabbed his arm. “We have to go. Now!”

The surprise on his face gave way to a startled comprehension. Without a word, he grasped her arm and helped her up to the buggy seat. He released the line and swung himself up, clucking to the horse to back him away from the rail.

“Not by way of the square,” she said, urgency filling her voice. “We can't go that way.”

He nodded, turning in the opposite direction, and in a moment they were heading down the side street, away from danger.

•   •   •

Samuel
kept his tension in check as they wound through several back streets to get clear of town. Obviously something had happened in the few minutes they'd been apart—something that had frightened Anna badly. The baby's birth father. What else could it be?

He turned onto the road that led home. Anna kept swiveling, staring behind them, her hand up to shield her face.

If she wouldn't break the silence, he would.

“Is anyone following us?”

She turned around, hands grasping the seat as if to force the buggy to go faster. “It doesn't look like it. I can't see anyone.”

He waited, but she didn't go on. Apparently he'd have to pry the words out of her.

“What is wrong? Was it him . . . Pete?”

She nodded, fingers tightening on the seat until her knuckles were white. “I was about to come out of the pharmacy when I saw him
crossing the street to the square.” Her voice quavered. “If I'd walked out a minute sooner, I'd have walked right into him.”

“But you didn't.” Samuel put his hand over hers where it gripped the seat. Her tension was so strong that her skin seemed to spark. “God was watching out for you.”

She bit her lip. “I hope so.”

“I know it,” he said, hoping that gave her strength.

“I couldn't go out the front of the store. He'd have seen me. He sat down on a bench in the square where he could watch the whole area. The pharmacist let me go out the back way.”

Samuel considered. “So he doesn't know exactly where you are.”

“If he knew that . . .” She sucked in a breath. “If he knew that, it would already be too late.”

He tried to think it through, tried to put himself in the mind of the man. He couldn't do it. It was too great a stretch.

“All right, then. If all he knows is that you're from this area, then he's just guessing that you're here. He can't be sure you'd come home, because you didn't tell anyone. You can lie low until he gets tired and goes away again.”

She was already shaking her head. “I can't. He's bound to ask around. Sooner or later, he'll find someone who knows me.”

“Amish are ser gut at playing dumb in the face of nosy questions. No one will give you away.”

Her mouth twisted. “I wish I could believe that. But even if no Amish would tell, there are plenty of English who know where the Beiler family lives.”

“Anna . . .”

“It's over, Samuel.” Her voice was filled with anguish. “I don't have a choice. Gracie and I have to leave. We can lose ourselves in some big city where he'll never find us.”

Never. Now, when he was about to lose her, he knew how much he loved her.

“Don't, Anna. You can't just leave.”
I love you
. “We'll take care of you and Gracie.”

“I can't stay.” Her fear was so strong it was like a third person sitting on the buggy seat between them. “I have to keep my daughter safe.”

Samuel fought to keep his feelings in check. It wouldn't do, when she was terrified for her child, to put the burden of his love on her.

“Anna, I understand that you must protect Gracie. But this man—surely he will listen to reason. He has no right to the baby, and he's not able to take care of her. Why would he want to take her away from people who love her?”

Anna stared at him, her face bleak. “Did you never run into someone like him when you were out in the world? Someone with such a skewed view of reality that they were lost to good reason and common sense?”

“If that's the case, I wonder that the baby means anything at all to him.”

“He's not thinking straight.” Her lips pressed together as if to hold back the pain. “Liz had it right. She says Pete always wants most what he can't have. Right now, that's Gracie.”

“But if we all talk to him . . .”

“Don't, Samuel.” All her pent-up grief seemed to fill the word. “This does no good at all. If Pete finds me, he's going to try to take Gracie. If he does . . . if he does, it's not just that I'll never see her again. I'm afraid that if he takes her, she won't survive.”

Her voice shook on the final word, and Samuel's heart seemed to tremble in his chest.

“Anna, listen to me. You must tell your daad and Bishop Mose.”

“No, they—”

“When they understand what is at stake, they'll help. They'll even go to the police, little though they'll like it. I'm certain-sure of that.”

She threw up her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Maybe you're right. I hope so. But don't you see? It might be too late. Pete isn't counting on the law to get Gracie back. He's going to grab her and run.”

“We won't let that happen.” He had to make her believe that, and she was already shaking her head.

“Pete is the kind of man who settles conflict with his fists. He's dangerous, and I've put all of you in danger by hiding here. All I can do
is get out of his way. Once he sees I'm gone and no one knows where I went, he'll leave the rest of you alone.”

It stabbed him to the heart that she thought she had to protect them.

“Anna, you must trust in the people who love you. Trust in God to deliver us from this evil.”

But he saw in her eyes that she had gone far away from him already. She shook her head again.

His heart was breaking for her. Knowing what it would cost, still he had to say what he would do. “You must tell them. If you don't, I will.”

She turned on him then. “You have no right to interfere.”

“I love you, Anna. I believe that gives me the right to take care of you and Gracie.”

Pain drew her skin tight against the bone. “If you do that, I will never forgive you. Never.”

•   •   •

The
instant Samuel stopped at the house, Anna jumped down from the buggy. She couldn't say anything—there was nothing to say.

Samuel had said he loved her. That was a separate pain that she couldn't begin to deal with now, so she closed it away. Now all she could do was get Gracie someplace safe.

She hurried into the house, registering that Samuel had driven off toward his barn. She had until he'd dealt with his horse and buggy and come back to the shop before he'd tell Daadi. By then, she had to be gone.

No time to pack their clothes—she could only stuff as much as possible into Gracie's diaper bag.

She barreled into the kitchen. Myra, coming in from the living room, gave her a startled look.

“Anna, I didn't realize you were back. Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing.”
Everything
. But she couldn't tell Myra. She couldn't burden Myra with her troubles, and she certainly couldn't say she was leaving. “Is Gracie napping?”

“Ja, they both are.” Myra smiled. “She was a little lamb while you were gone.”

Myra always thought that. She was as gentle and loving with Gracie as she was with her own Sarah.

“I'll go take a peek at her.” Anna hurried up the stairs, not letting herself think about all that Gracie would lose by leaving here. There were too many things she couldn't think about now.