Amish Rescue, page 11
“The driver of the car knows Victor.” Sarah touched Joachim’s arm. “I keep thinking about that person sitting in the back seat. I couldn’t see her through the glass. What if it was Miriam?”
“I am going to Victor’s now. Hopefully, I will learn more about this man and his passenger.”
Sarah grabbed his hand. “Be careful, Joachim. The man had an evil look in his eyes. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
He wrapped his fingers through hers and stepped closer. Sarah had an effect on him that made his head swim and sent everything else into oblivion so that all he saw was her.
“I will be fine,” he assured her. “Victor will wonder where I am since the rain has stopped. Besides, if he has houseguests, he will be less interested in the handyman doing repairs.”
“Victor sees more than you would think. He has ways of appearing when you don’t suspect him of being anywhere in the area. Be cautious, Joachim. And remember that Victor is not to be trusted.”
“I will remember.”
He did not want to leave Sarah, but he needed to get to the Thomin home before the next volley of rain started. If the storms continued, he would come home after working for a bit under the overhang of the porch to escape the rain.
Stepping away from her was difficult.
“Get dry and stay warm,” he told her. “I will return soon.”
Rebecca stood on the porch, her face drawn and looking as forlorn as Sarah. He was aware of the danger of going back to the Thomin home, but he needed to see what was happening there for himself. As Sarah had mentioned, Victor was not to be trusted. The arrival of the second man and the passenger in his car made Joachim even more concerned.
* * *
Sarah was worried about what Victor could do to Joachim. She was also worried about the man in the SUV, as well as his passenger. Could the woman be Miriam? Would her arrival at the Thomin home be a good thing or would it place her sister in even more danger? The last time Sarah had seen Miriam had been in the cabin where they had been held captive after the carjacking. Victor had claimed that a man named George had her now. If only Sarah had more information.
Rebecca and Joachim had cautioned Sarah to keep her head down, which was what she had done when the man pulled his SUV to a stop beside the buggy, yet that hadn’t kept her from catching a glimpse of the guy at the wheel. He looked menacing and evil. Just like Victor. Which made her all the more concerned about her sister and worried about Joachim’s safety.
Could the newcomer be George, the man who was supposed to deliver Miriam? Sarah shivered at the thought of her sister being considered a delivery, like property or chattel. This was the twenty-first century. Women weren’t supposed to be owned or controlled by anyone. But life in this part of Georgia was a free-for-all with corruption run amuck. That was why she couldn’t go to the police. They were corrupt, as well.
At least she had found Joachim, a man of virtue and integrity. She appreciated all he had done for her, but she worried about his safety. Protect him, Lord, she prayed, hoping her prayer would be heard. And protect Miriam.
FIFTEEN
The ride to the Thomin property seemed especially long today, no doubt because Joachim was thinking of the way Sarah had gripped his arm and the plea he had heard in her voice.
Eventually he turned onto the Thomin driveway and guided Belle toward the barn, where she would stay while he dug through the decaying wood and replaced the rotten areas on the back porch. Once the rain stopped and the wood dried, he would paint the new patches to make them identical to the old.
The white SUV that had caused problems earlier sat parked at the front porch. Joachim stared into the rear seat, seeing nothing of interest. On the porch, he noticed a large duffel bag leaning against the side of the door frame. The arms of a man’s brown dress shirt poked from the drawstring closure. Would the filled bag, if propped up in the back seat, have given the appearance of a person with long hair? He shook his head and sighed, suddenly not sure of what he had seen through the tinted windows. He flicked the reins and guided Belle around the vehicle and into the barn. After unpacking his tools from the buggy, he hurried to the back porch.
The kitchen door opened. Victor sneered. “Where have you been? I thought you plain people got up early in the morning?”
As much as Joachim did not like Victor’s tone, he steeled himself and gave a brief nod as he set his tools on the porch. “The storm was severe. It is dangerous to be on the road when lightning strikes so close.”
“That’s a lame excuse,” Victor said with a wave of his hand.
“I do not offer it as an excuse” Joachim was quick to point out. “I have provided the reason I was delayed arriving. Would you prefer that I leave you now?”
Victor shook his head. “No need to get huffy.”
Joachim was not huffy, but he was concerned about what might be happening inside the house. The television was tuned to a sporting channel and cheers from the crowd filtered through the back door.
“Victor, bring me a beer,” a male voice demanded.
“You have guests today?” Joachim asked, glancing around Victor in hopes of seeing into the house.
“Get to work,” Victor growled before he disappeared back into the kitchen.
Joachim glanced through the windows on the side of the house, searching for some sign of a woman. Seeing nothing except empty rooms, he glanced into the wooded area where Mamie mentioned the kitchen house had been located. Over the years, a thick forest had encroached within twenty feet of the Thomin home. If the kitchen house had been left standing, the woods would have surrounded the small outbuilding by now.
The sounds of the game on the television and the cheers of the onlookers bolstered Joachim’s determination to continue searching. Convinced the men would remain focused on the TV, he hurried to the rear of the house.
Victor found him there. “I’m a little miffed at you, Burkholder,” he said, his voice raised. “What didn’t you understand about doing a day’s work?”
Joachim placed his hand on his forehead as if to shade his eyes from the sun, which had only just peered through the dark clouds.
“I wanted to see the rotting areas on the second and third stories of the house. To do so, I must stand here at the back of the structure.” He eyed the upper floors and nodded. “Yah, there is more work to be done on the second and third floors. I can see the rot. I must go inside and open the windows to check the sills.”
“Not today,” Victor insisted. “We’ll do it another time. Now get back to work.”
Joachim complied with Victor’s wishes, but he continued to peer through the windows, hoping to catch sight of the newcomer and whomever might have ridden in the rear seat. Joachim also studied the forested area in hopes of spotting some sign of the kitchen house. Victor kept appearing at the kitchen door—no doubt, checking on him. Tomorrow would be a better day. At least that was Joachim’s hope.
* * *
Sarah fretted all day about Joachim and whether Miriam was at the Thomin home. Rebecca was worried as well, and both women spoke little. Instead, they busied themselves with sewing. Rebecca was piecing a quilt and taught Sarah how to cut the squares and sew them together on a treadle sewing machine. The rhythmic cadence of the machine filled the house. Sarah enjoyed the repetitive work, but the hours still dragged by too slowly, and her concerns failed to ease.
Late in the afternoon, they put away the sewing and turned to cooking the evening meal. Sarah chopped onions for a stew and almost cried, not from the acrid sting of the onions but from her own worry.
“When will Joachim get home?” she finally asked, no longer able to hold in her emotion.
“Victor will want Joachim to work until five o’clock at least,” Rebecca said as she peeled carrots. “He might demand Joachim make up the hours he missed this morning due to the rain.”
“Which means Joachim won’t be home until after dark,” Sarah said with a sigh.
A dog barked near the barn. Sarah peered from the window. “It’s Angelo. He’s back from his day’s escapades.”
“And probably hungry,” Rebecca added. “Would you mind feeding him?”
“Does he ever come inside?”
Rebecca shook her head. “Dogs are creatures Gott created for the outdoors.” She lowered her voice and looked stern as she recited the statement. Then she smiled at Sarah and returned to her usual tone of voice as she explained, “That’s what my datt says.”
“He is a gruff man?” Sarah asked.
“On the outside, yah, but—” Rebecca patted her heart. “On the inside, where it really matters, he is softer, although you must not tell him I said that. I think he enjoys having people think he is stern.”
“And your mother?”
“Mamm does not let his caustic tone bother her. She is strong, but in a loving way. You will like her, Sarah.”
“And what will she think of having an Englisch woman in the house?”
“It is not what Mamm thinks that concerns me. My datt is the one who will have questions.”
“Perhaps it would be best if I leave before he and your mother return home.”
“And where would you go? You said your mother has died. Your sister Miriam has disappeared, and you have lost touch with your eldest sister, Hannah. You have nowhere to call home.”
“I have an aunt who supposedly lives in Willkommen. At least that’s what my mother claimed, but her mind had become addled and I’m not sure if she knew what she was saying.”
“I hope you can find your aunt someday.”
Which seemed highly unlikely at the present time. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Rebecca was right. Sarah had no place to call home.
She thought of the sound she had heard in the basement and wondered again if Victor was holding someone else captive. Perhaps someone who had a home and loved ones who were worried about her.
“Have you heard of anyone who has gone missing in the area?” Sarah asked.
Rebecca looked up from the carrots. “Naomi is gone if that is what you mean.”
“What about other Amish women? Do you know anyone who disappeared without explanation?”
“Once, about a year ago, a man came to this house. He said he was a policeman, but he was in an unmarked vehicle and asked if we had seen a young woman named Rosie. I do not remember her last name. She was Amish and lived near Willkommen. He claimed the authorities were looking for her.”
“Had Rosie done something wrong?”
“I asked, but the man said he could not say anything more.” Rebecca shook her head. “He mentioned that she was Amish and had gotten mixed up with the wrong people.”
Victor would fit the wrong people category. “Did you ever see her?”
“I saw a woman once at the Thomin house after Naomi was gone. That day, I had baked a cake and took it to Ms. Hazel, thinking she would be lonely without Naomi.”
“That’s when you saw the Amish woman?”
“Yah, at an upstairs window. She turned away when she saw me. I knocked on the door, but she either did not hear me or chose not to answer my knock.”
“You think she could have been the missing Amish girl?”
“I wondered if she could be. Not long after that, a policeman stopped by our roadside stand and bought some of our homegrown tomatoes. I told him about the girl I had seen, but he did not seem concerned. I am not even sure if he inquired at the Thomin home. He bought three pounds of tomatoes and then did not have enough money to pay for them. He said he would come back and bring the rest of the money. I was foolish to believe him.”
“You never saw him again?”
“Never.”
“Joachim says I need to talk to the police.”
“I do not know if that is wise,” Rebecca said with a shake of her head. “The Amish do not involve law enforcement when there is a problem. We handle things ourselves. But even if we accepted the idea of contacting law enforcement, I do not believe I would trust these policemen. The Petersville police have not helped the Amish in the past.”
“Victor told me the police are not to be trusted, but then that’s coming from Victor.”
“Yet Victor must be stopped from repeating what he did to you,” Rebecca said.
“If I go back to Knoxville, I’ll tell the authorities there.”
Rebecca’s brow raised. “Will they care what happened in the mountains of Georgia?”
“I don’t know. My mother always ran from the police. When they came looking for us, it meant we had too many bills that hadn’t been paid. Even before I met Victor and he told me I couldn’t trust the police around here, I had a fear of anyone in law enforcement.”
Rebecca patted her hand. “You have had a hard life, yah?”
Sarah shrugged. “I never thought of it as hard. It was my life and the only way to live that I knew. Although seeing the peace in this house shows me another way, a way I would like to follow.”
“You would like to be Amish?”
“What I want is to sink roots down somewhere and have a home to call my own.”
Rebecca nodded her approval. “And a good man to share that home with you as your husband?”
“You’re getting ahead of me, Rebecca.”
“You do not want a husband?”
“I don’t want to be my mother. She made bad choices with men.”
“But you are not your mother,” Rebecca assured her. “You are your own person.”
“A person who can’t seem to stand on her own. I need to be more independent, to take care of myself and to be able to make my way in life.”
Rebecca nodded. “Perhaps you yearn for a life in the world you left, instead of being holed up in an Amish house.”
“The world is not what I want. I want this.” She looked around her. “I want the peace and love I feel in this house. I want to work hard and have a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day.”
“You have worked hard before, I can tell by the way you always help me and the way you learned to use the sewing machine so quickly today.”
“But it wasn’t the same in Knoxville. There was always an undercurrent of unease. I never knew if my mother would get upset and become volatile. Maybe it was the yearning for her affection, for words of acceptance that made me a hard worker—even if it never paid off. Growing up, I wanted to please her, but I always seemed to miss the mark, as the saying goes. If I tried to coax her into affirming me, she would ridicule my attempt or walk away as if she had never heard me.”
“Mothers are not all the same. Some have big hearts. Others have small hearts. Hopefully, their hearts, no matter the size, are filled with love for their children.”
“Yet shouldn’t a mother with even a small heart, let her child know the loves she feels for that child?”
“Yah, it is so, but Gott loves you, Sarah. You are a gut person. You should open your heart more to Him and see if you find that acceptance for which you are searching.”
Sarah wished it would be as easy as Rebecca implied.
At that moment, she heard the welcome sound of a buggy turning onto the drive and ran to the window. She smiled when she saw Joachim. She threw open the kitchen door and stepped onto the porch.
He looked tired and worried as if he carried too much on his shoulders. Sarah’s heart skipped a beat as she was confronted once more with the truth. She had brought pain and struggle into Joachim’s life. Anything good that she sensed in this house was there in spite of her. Yet anything that brought concern and even danger was because of her.
Joachim and his family had lived their years in this home and on this farm situated next to Victor’s parents. All families had problems, but as far as she knew during that time, nothing had happened to upset the harmony between the Thomins and the Burkholders. Her seeing Joachim through the window at Victor’s home had changed everything.
He looked at her from the buggy. Her knees became weak, and she felt light-headed. Silly reactions that didn’t do anything to help Joachim. She had to control her emotions and her inner feelings. She had to guard her mind and her heart. She needed to leave the area as soon as possible because staying here, staying close to Joachim, would ruin his life.
Her spirits plummeted as she accepted the truth—leaving the peace and security she felt in this home would be the worst thing to happen to her. She had found something here. Something she wanted to hold on to, but something that didn’t belong to her. Something she would only ruin if she stayed.
Her mistake. She had to leave, but leaving would break her heart.
SIXTEEN
Joachim had not wanted to stay so late at Victor’s home. He had wanted to come back to Sarah. Thoughts of her had carried him through the afternoon. Now that he was home, his heart nearly burst with joy seeing her on the porch waiting for him. If only Sarah were an Amish woman instead of a woman of the world.
Some things were not meant to be. His mother had told him that years ago when he had a crush on a non-Amish girl he had met at the lake where the teens sometimes gathered. The girl was visiting her Amish uncle and aunt, but all too soon she had returned to Atlanta, back to the life she knew. She had promised to write. He had waited for the mailman every day that summer, his heart becoming more and more saddened with each passing day he did not hear from her.
His mother’s words back then brought no comfort, but they had provided the wisdom he held on to when he was on his own in North Carolina.
He had come home to find where he was meant to be, but now that he was here, all he could think about was a woman who would soon leave him. Sarah, like that young teen so long ago, would not write, and once her life returned to normal, she would probably not even remember the Amish man who had helped her escape.
“You stayed so long,” Sarah said in greeting. “I was worried.”
