Finding Mercy (6 page)

“I’m learning a lot from you anyway. So, does it matter which side the driver sits on if two are in the buggy?”

“Sure, rules for everything, though this is not in the Ordnung. That’s the big church rules, moral things. But,
ya,
the woman always sits to the left of her husband or any man in a buggy.”

“Sounds good to me. That means the man is always right—right?”

She turned to him with a little laugh. He still bent so close to look inside the buggy that her bonnet brim bounced against his cheek. Again, that strange, silent but oh-so-loud force crackled between them. They breathed in unison. His lower lip dropped slightly. Even in the dim barn, she could see her reflection in his narrowed, blue eyes.

“Guess what?” Aaron’s voice startled them apart as he hurried back into the barn. “That courting buggy cost Mose’s older brother almost twelve-hundred bucks! It’s got emerald-green carpeting! His father was against it, but he saved up ’cause he wanted it so bad! Oh—you did it without me,” he added as Ella climbed quickly up in the buggy and bent to take the reins.

“That’s okay, Aaron,” she said. “Let Andrew hitch the other one himself and you just watch this time. And then take him for a ride but just up and down the lane.”

“I know what to do. You,
Grossmamm, Mamm
and
Daad
don’t have to tell me everything!”

“
Danki,
Ella!” Andrew shouted after her.
“Ser gut, ser gut!”

“She can be really bossy,” she overheard Aaron say as she blew a kiss to Fern to speed her up—or was it a kiss to Andrew?

* * *

As Ella headed home from the mill, the early afternoon sky clouded over and the wind picked up. The weather was important to her people, a big topic of conversation, but she hadn’t heard it was going to storm. She could feel the extra weight of the buggy from the four big bags of ground shells, or else she would have giddyapped Fern faster. To avoid getting caught in a downpour, she turned onto a farmer’s lane that was a shortcut home. It was only wide enough for a four-horse hitch or big work wagon, but if she met someone coming the other way, she could easily pull off on the grassy edge of the cornfield.

Her thoughts on Andrew, she didn’t hear the motor vehicle behind her at first. Too much of a smooth sound, not loud like an English farmer’s tractor or planter. She craned her neck and tried to look back through the thick plastic window, which she hadn’t rolled up today. It looked like a big buggy at first but it was a van, a black one. It seemed to have dark-tinted windows. She knew how impatient English drivers could be. She’d better pull off and let it pass. But why would a vehicle that probably wasn’t local be on this cut-cross lane? There was nothing back here but corn and a couple of woodlots.

You might know, it began to rain. She didn’t stop to unroll the plastic windshield in front of her and blew Fern a kiss to get her to a place up ahead, which looked like a good pull-off spot. Most drivers in Amish country were considerate and polite—at least the ones who weren’t out drinking, like Sam Lee might have been, or who weren’t taking the hills fast because of the rollercoaster-like thrills.

Thunder rumbled even as the van’s engine behind got louder,
vroom, vroom,
like it was going to leap at her. The vehicle came closer, bumped the back of her buggy! Didn’t they see the sign that read
Slow-Moving Vehicle? The van’s lights had been on low but now bright headlights popped on. Another bump, harder. The buggy jolted. She was nearly to the pull-off spot—or should she just keep going? No way she could escape, however fast Fern could go.

Rain pattered on her bonnet as Ella leaned out and looked behind, even extended an open hand as if to say, “Keep back! Stop!”
Ya,
the windows of the vehicle were tinted so dark she could not see the driver. The windshield wipers whipped back and forth hard. Her heart pounding, she threw herself back inside the buggy.

Though she wasn’t to the best spot yet, she swerved Fern to the right onto the grassy fringe of the field. Rain thudded on the fiberglass frame of the buggy like loud drums. She twisted around to stare out through her back plastic window. To her dismay, the car stopped, backed up and turned in too, this time shoving the buggy almost into Fern. Thank God, she wasn’t on the edge of a treed ravine like the one that had almost killed Ray-Lynn when she plunged over it! But that would-be killer was in prison. Out here in the open, exposed, no one around—what did this person want? Just to scare her? Or worse?

Don’t fight back…turn the other cheek,
she recited to herself. Should she leave Fern, get out and run through the field? The plowed soil and rain would make for slow going. The van couldn’t follow but a person could. She’d be a sitting duck if someone had a camera—or a gun. Some terrible attacks on the Amish she’d heard or read about increased her panic: some drunk English teens turned over a buggy with a woman inside; an Amish boy throwing tomatoes at cars was shot to death. The only thing she had to fight back with, without really fighting back, was four bags of ground oyster shells.

When lightning crackled and struck something nearby, Ella nearly jumped out of the buggy. Had it hit a tree in the woodlot? If it struck again, what was taller out here in the open, the buggy or the van? Metal would attract the bolt, wouldn’t it? No one emerged from the van as it just sat there, rumbling low with the front windshield like a huge eye just staring at her. She should have told
Daad
and Andrew about that light she glimpsed on the hill. At least there was no more bumping or shoving. What did that person want?

She fumbled on the floor for her jackknife and slit the string stitching at the top of one of the big plastic bags. If someone got out and came around to hurt her, she’d fling ground oyster shells at them, in their eyes, get out and run across the corner of the field into the trees, lightning or not. Surely, this could not have anything to do with their hiding Andrew. No one around here knew who he really was, did they? So how could anyone have found him? This had to be about something else, about her. Like
Daad
had suggested, was she being stalked?

The van hulked behind her like a big beast, its hood and front bumper tight against her buggy, as if playing with its prey. She was certain her wheels would sink in the soil if she drove straight ahead into the field.

While thunder rumbled again, this time more distantly, she dug out fistfuls of the ground shells and dumped them in her lap, ready to throw. Sweating, praying—
Oh Lord, please take care of Your own
—she waited. Then came a deep
honk-honk!
of the van’s horn. Ella jumped. Fern snorted and startled. After another hard bump of the buggy, the van backed out, turned and drove away.

Despite the rain, Ella scrambled down from the seat, spewing ground shells and dust from her apron. She was going to get that license plate at any cost, tell Sheriff Freeman. Maybe the sheriff would know if others had been harassed this way too.

But the license plate was draped with a big dark cloth that dragged behind in the mud. It looked like an Amish woman’s cape, black as ravens’ wings. For a moment, she thought she glimpsed a face in the big, tinted back window, but it looked too thin—the white barrel of not a gun but a lamp? A telescope? Her grandfather had one they used to watch the stars through from the hilltop, years ago.

As the van disappeared down the lane at the end of the field, Ella heaved a frustrated, furious sigh and broke into tears she’d been holding back. She crunched through the wet oyster-shell grit and scrambled back up into the feeble protection of the buggy. At least the spilled feed would mark the exact spot so she could tell the sheriff where to look for tire tracks or anything to identify the van
.

“Thank you, Lord, for Your protection,” she whispered as she picked up the reins and backed Fern and the buggy out onto the road. One of the buggy wheels seemed wobbly, but she had no choice but to head home. She was wet and chilled but that wasn’t why her hands were shaking so hard she almost flapped the reins. She reached behind into the small back seat and storage area for her cape.

It was gone, not on the floor, nowhere, but she knew she’d left it there when she went into the mill. And she knew now what was being dragged to death in pieces through the mud behind that black van.

6

AFTER A DASH through the woodlot, where she was afraid the van might appear again, Ella emerged onto Oakridge and headed straight for home. Now only the rattle of a bent back wheel pursued her until she heard the piercing shriek
of a siren behind her.

She gasped when she saw a black vehicle. She stuck her head out to look back. Thank heavens! Only an Eden County police car. It must be the sheriff! She reined in, then realized it could be a trick. It wasn’t the sheriff’s car—no markings—nor did she recognize the short, muscular man who emerged from it, but he was wearing an officer’s uniform.

He must have realized her unease, because before approaching her he called out, “Winston Hayes, ma’am, the new Eden County deputy. You don’t have a fluorescent safety triangle on the back of your buggy. It’s the law. Some Amish been protesting that and even went to jail over it in Indiana.”

She looked at the back of her buggy. Not only was the safety sign gone but the back was scuffed and dented. Obviously, the van had knocked it off somewhere. She’d rather tell Sheriff Freeman what had happened, but she couldn’t pass over it with this man. Deputy Winston Hayes flashed his badge at her. Looking very sure of himself, he stood so erect. He was built strong, almost stocky, but was only tall enough to look her straight in the eyes—though she couldn’t see his eyes since he wore reflector-type sunglasses, despite the fact that the sky was a stormy gray. In her line of view, right behind his head, he’d left his light bar flashing. It made it look as if pulsating colors sprang from his head.

A buggy went by. She recognized the folks who stared but went on.

“Well, then?” he prompted, frowning.

“A black van bumped into the back of my buggy about a quarter hour ago, and I didn’t realize the sign was gone.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, whipping off his glasses and bending closer to the damage, then brushing his hand across the scuff marks. “Your left wheel rim’s askew too. Can you give me a description of the vehicle?” he asked, taking from his jacket pocket a small device that must be a cell phone, but one he typed things into with his thumbs.

“I’m not sure of the make. Tinted windows so I can’t describe anyone inside. And what’s scary is they had their license plate blacked out.”

“Someone with malice aforethought,” he muttered, straightening and putting a hand on his gun belt. “And this was where, ma’am?”

“I was taking a shortcut through the fields between Troyers Mill and here. I intend to tell Sheriff Freeman about it. I’d like to head home now.”

“Which is where?” he asked, his thumbs busy again on his little machine. A car went past; it slowed and people stared.

“I live at the Lantz farm, 400 Oakridge Road. I’m Ella Lantz.”

“Oh, yeah, the lavender farm. You and one of your brothers helped the guy in the wreck the first day I was here. Sorry for being so curious, but I’m trying to familiarize myself with your people. So, three brothers still at home?”

“No, Seth just moved out to the Troyer place. That was my cousin who found the accident with me.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s what the sheriff said. So your cousin is living here now?”

How much had the sheriff told his new deputy? she wondered. And why did Andrew even figure into this? A police officer trying to get his feet on the ground here or not, this man was being too nosy about Andrew. After deadly persecutions of the Amish in Europe years ago, it wasn’t her people’s way to trust government men, lawyers or law officers. After all that Sheriff Freeman had been through with the Amish community here, he was the exception. Besides, as bedraggled and upset at Ella was, her hackles went up in her desire to protect Andrew.

“I’ll be sure to get another safety sign, Officer Hayes,” she said, hoping to change the topic. “We have one in our barn. I got caught in the rain, and I don’t want to catch my death of chill, so I’d like to head home. I plan to talk to the sheriff soon.”

She edged away from him toward her buggy. He was frowning now. She got in, hoping he didn’t call her back or ask another question. But he let her go—that is, if she didn’t count the fact he followed so close behind her in his black cruiser all the way home that it brought back the panic of the black van. She fought hard to keep an attack of the drowning darkness at bay. When she turned into the farm lane, he sped away.

* * *

“I don’t need to be scolded like a child,
Daad!
”
Ella protested at her father’s reaction to her telling him what had happened.

The rain had stopped drumming on the barn roof. The men had come in from the fields, but only
Daad
was still here when she buggied in. Though wet and shivering, she’d told him right away. He’d wrapped her in a horse blanket and unhitched Fern for her while she talked.

“Then don’t act like a child, going out on your own after those footprints around the houses!” he said.

“Those weren’t targeting me anymore than the boys!”

“Ach,”
he went on, shaking his head so hard his beard wagged. “My fault for not insisting you take someone with you. That theft of your cape from your parked buggy at the mill, and then dragging it behind the van—what next?”

“I’m going to talk to the men who were working there, see if they can describe or identify someone who might have been near my buggy so I can follow up—”

“No! No. For all we know, it could be one of those men who followed you, been watching you—looking in windows. All right, you want to tell Sheriff Freeman what happened, fine. His deputy will probably tell him.”

“But I intentionally didn’t tell the new deputy everything. Especially when he started asking questions about our family and Andrew.”

“A new man, trying to learn the territory, that’s all. Police are too nosy anyways, always were. But you cannot go out without one of your brothers with you until we find out more!”

“
Daad,
I have a business to run, and Abel and Aaron are busy in the fields with you. I can see why I shouldn’t take Andrew with me, but—”

“But why? Someone is stalking you, I still think so,
ya,
” he said, starting to wipe Fern down with an old towel. Their raised voices obviously didn’t bother the horse, who was already munching from the feed trough.

“I mean,” Ella said, forcing herself to speak more slowly and calmly, “Andrew should stick close to home to keep himself safe.”

“And have people wonder if he’s sick? Folks would start talking about it and lots of others would get curious about him. He’s going to attend Seth’s wedding, so he’ll be on display then anyway. Besides, I think he has cabin fever already. It’s a hard time, his waiting to do the right thing, waiting to get his life back again. I didn’t ask, but wherever they were hiding him before, I think something bad happened.”

She almost blurted out,
You mean he was stalked?
but she kept quiet on that one. Was her protective father suggesting he trusted her going off alone with a worldly man? Her mind raced as she watched
Daad
hang Fern’s tack on the wall pegs. He immediately started to hammer her bent metal wheel back into place. She pulled the blanket tighter around her wet shoulders.

“You mean,” she said, having to talk louder again over the din, “you think I should take him with me when I leave on deliveries or errands? You didn’t even want me to show him how to hitch a buggy.”

“Never said that, just wanted to give Aaron more responsibility. You should take Andrew and visit just once to your places that sell the lavender. Tell them for a while they need to come here to pick things up.”

“But I’ve promised them I would make deliveries and included that in the price. All six of my vendors are busy women, and I’m hoping to expand.
Daad,
I’m twenty-four and am self-supporting and have my own home now, so—”

“That’s a problem too,” he said, stopping the hammering and turning to her. “At night, for a while, you should not sleep alone in that house, but come back inside with us.”

“But you just gave my room to Andrew.”

Daad
sighed and put down the hammer. His shoulders slumped. His anger seemed to ebb from him. “We will set it up for Andrew to sleep in your
mamm’s
quilting room, since the three men in one room would be too much.”

“I can sleep in the quilting room.”

“Must you always argue with your father, girl? You think Andrew would go for that? I see him as good man and not only because of what Mr. Branin told me about him.”

“Here I thought Andrew was the one who had to be guarded, be worried about—not me.”

“With the sheriff’s help, we will find out who is bothering my girl,
ya?
”
He put an arm around her shoulders, and they walked toward the barn door together. “And maybe it is not as bad as we fear, but you just let me explain to your mother.”

“I know it probably doesn’t mean much, but I thought I saw a light on the lavender hill the other night,” she said as they walked out of the barn and he slid the wooden bar across to close it. “I was pretty sure it was a reflection off one of my tin pans that scare the birds away.”

“Not a flashlight?”

“No, unless the battery was bad—dim. It was single, like an eye that opened and blinked shut.”

He put her between the runners of the sleigh they had put outside, propped up on its end against the barn so they could fix the bottom of it. He moved away from her and, hands on his hips, stared up the hill, then looked toward the house.

“I’m going to walk to the phone shanty and call the sheriff to come out,” he said.

“After I dry off and change clothes, I’m planning to take Ray-Lynn Logan her weekly lavender products into the Dutch Farm Table and also stop at the gift shop and B and B. I can ask Andrew to ride with me and see the sheriff then.”

“
Ya,
I guess, if you stay on the main roads, with others around from now on. And no asking those men at the mill if they saw someone take your cape. Pranksters, I pray, just that.”

She was glad to see no one in the kitchen, because she knew she must look a drowned cat—though it jolted her to think of it that way. Despite all she’d been through today, she had a hopeful heart. Blessedly, none of the feelings of impending doom that so often plagued her when something went wrong hovered over her head. However independent she’d been these past years, maybe she felt better because she liked the idea of Andrew taking care of her, just as she’d watch out for him.

* * *

Ella made sure Andrew heard her entire story before she asked him to accompany her for her deliveries that afternoon. He’d already agreed to move into the smaller quilting room. Abel and Aaron had moved his bed there and were muttering about having to move Ella’s bedroom furniture back into the farmhouse after just taking it in the other direction.

Andrew had said he’d like to go along in the buggy. They sat companionably close as they headed toward town three miles away. She didn’t know how he felt, but she felt good just to be with him.

“Want to handle the reins?” she asked.

“Always,” he said with a tight smile as he took them from her. Their fingers touched. His were strong and warm, smooth too, not like a farmer’s or a carpenter’s. She showed him how to hold the reins, wrap them a bit around his hand.

“I guess ‘always’ means more than it sounds like,” she said. “You were an important man—are still—if you can get things settled at home, right?”

“Some would think so. Also an ignorant man. I got taken in and in over my head. Now I’m trying to make amends. Do the right thing, as they say.”

“I admire you for that. I know all about making mistakes. I almost married a man who couldn’t give up his drinking. It was a blessing I had the courage to pull out, even though I’d said yes. Hold the right rein a little tighter, not all that slack.”

“You need a rearview mirror.”

“Some buggies have them. I just never saw the need—until earlier today.”

“Being followed like that is one of my worst fears.”

“I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through or still have to face. But maybe what happened to me today gives me a little hint of how hard it’s been for you. Do you think a lot about what you’ve left behind—what you’re missing—besides your car to impress your corporation?”

“You are a smart and very persuasive woman, Ella Lantz. If I were my enemies, I’d send someone like you to get me to confess all.”

“You’re teasing.”

“Yes and no. All right, I know a lot about you, so let’s play something like twenty questions—or ten. You tell me things you think you know about the other me, the real me. As long as you’re correct, you can ask another question.”

He smiled at her, a bit prideful, she thought, but she was grateful to have the chance to learn more about him.

“You’re from a big city, but not one in Ohio,” she said.

“That’s two questions, clever Ella, but yes and yes.”

“You’re not married.”

“How did you guess that? I could hardly wear a wedding ring around here, not an Amish man.”

“Because on your left ring finger, there is not a hint of white circle, but on your right hand, where you took off a ring, there is.”

“I think the sheriff and that new deputy should be asking you for help.”

“Don’t change the subject or think flattery will get you anywhere, not with the Amish,” she told him. “For us, cooperation, just like we have now, and not competition is the best way to live.”

“Which means we are worlds apart. You should see the dog-eat-dog environment I came from. And, you know, this stay here has really been lucky for me.”

“Not lucky—blessed. Blessed by God. Okay, here’s another guess. You believe in God but you hardly ever think about Him anymore, because you’ve been too busy. You think you can solve your problems your way.”

He turned to look at her as they clip-clopped along. He’d been turning his head away a lot and leaning out to look behind them. “I’d say that’s fair,” he admitted. “Until everything blew up in my face and what I was facing was the ruin of my dreams and maybe even death.”

She gripped his left wrist. “I know. That changes things, doesn’t it? Then you need something and someone to lean on. Oh, I have my questions too about life’s troubles, but I never think that the Creator of the world—of these hills and fields and my lavender—doesn’t have the answers. Last night I saw you go outside and look up at the stars, even though you were hobbling. You felt the strength and power out there in the vastness, didn’t you?”