Debby Giusti - Amish Safe House

“Is gathering eggs like an Easter egg hunt, Mr. Abraham?”

“Perhaps a bit. I will show you.” He motioned the child toward the door and then glanced at Julia. “After Kayla collects the eggs, she will return to the house. Then William and I will go to the farm across the road. Harvey Raber and his sons are delivering the furniture they make to customers who placed orders. The neighbors lend a hand while they are gone.”

Julia glanced quickly around the tidy kitchen and peered into the living area. “Shall I start cleaning?”

“You are a housekeeper in name only, Julia. You and Kayla can return to your house. I am sure you have things to do there.”

She appreciated his thoughtfulness. “I’d like to unpack.”

“Lock the door. If there is a problem, ring the dinner bell. I will hear you.”

In spite of the peaceful setting and Abraham’s attempt to welcome them to farm life, his mention of using a bell if she or Kayla had a problem, made the anxiety Julia had felt in Philadelphia return. She and the children had traveled over a thousand miles to elude the Philadores, yet the truth remained. Frankie Fuentes was a killer, and he was after her son.

* * *

Abraham hurried Kayla to the henhouse while William sat on the porch steps, looking totally uninterested in anything about the farm. From what he had seen so far, the two children seemed to be complete opposites. Kayla embraced life to the full, while William hung back and needed to be coaxed into new endeavors.

Kayla’s eyes were wide with wonder as she stood on tiptoe and peered into one of the nests. She spied an egg and placed it in her basket.

“Don’t the chickens get upset that their eggs are gone?” she asked.

“They will lay more tomorrow, Kayla.” Abraham pointed to the corner of the henhouse. “Check there. I usually find an egg or two hidden under the hay.”

The child’s search proved fruitful and soon she was headed back to the house with a smile of contentment on her pretty face and a basket full of eggs.

“I’ll tell Mama to make something with the eggs like Mrs. Fielding did.”

“Mrs. Fielding?” Abraham asked.

“She lived in an upstairs apartment and used to take care of William and me when Mama had to work.”

“I am sure she was a good woman.”

“Mrs. Fielding told me she was a God-fearing woman. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I told her I didn’t fear God because I loved Him.”

Abraham tried not to smile, but Kayla’s sincerity touched his heart. “Hurry into the house and tell your mother that William and I are going to Mr. Raber’s farm.”

“Can I go with you?”

“Maybe next time.”

She skipped toward the house and stopped on the porch step to wave goodbye.

“Go inside, Kayla,” he called to her.

The child climbed the stairs, knocked and scooted into the house when Julia opened the door. She stood for a long moment in the doorway, staring at him. The breeze pulled at her golden hair. She caught the elusive strands and tugged them back into place before she closed the door again, leaving Abraham with a curious sensation in the pit of his stomach.

He glanced at William, who shuffled along the drive, his head down and shoulders slumped. “You act as if you would rather have stayed with your mother.”

“I would rather have stayed in Philadelphia,” the boy said with a huff. “Besides, I don’t like to get up early.”

“You are tired from your journey?”

The boy nodded. “Tired and bored.”

Abraham chuckled under his breath. With all the chores that needed to be done on the farm, William would not be bored for long.

“Grab that bucket and fill it with feed for the horses in the paddock,” Abraham said when they entered the neighbor’s barn. The bucket was heavy when filled, but William carried it to the trough and then repeated the process.

“Now we will muck the stalls.” Abraham handed the boy a pitchfork and pointed to an empty stall. “Start there.”

From the look on William’s face, Abraham knew he was not happy, but he worked hard, and if he complained, he did so under his breath.

“Next we will lay fresh straw.”

William followed Abraham’s lead and a bed of straw soon covered the floor of the stalls.

“You have done a good job.” Abraham patted the boy’s shoulder. “We will go home and do the same in my barn.”

An almost imperceptible groan escaped Will’s lips. Abraham pretended not to notice and led the way back to the country road that divided the two farms.

Raber’s phone shack sat at the edge of the road. “Wait here, William.”

Abraham opened the door and stepped into the booth. He checked the answering machine to ensure Jonathan had not called and left a message.

“Is that where the Amish keep their phones?” William asked when Abraham joined him again.

“ Yah , Mr. Raber takes orders by phone for the furniture he makes. The Ordnung, the rules by which various Amish communities live, forbids phones within the home. Keeping the phone away from the house and near the property line allows Mr. Raber to stay in contact with his customers while also obeying the rule.”

William pointed to the roof. “Are those solar panels?”

Abraham nodded. “They run the answering machine. You know about solar energy?”

William shrugged. “A little.”

“Perhaps you will be an engineer when you get older.”

The boy shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Abraham asked.

“School’s not cool.”

Abraham would not ask what the boy thought was cool. From what Jonathan had said, William was drawn to the street gangs with their rap music and fast cars and even faster lifestyle. Was that what William thought was cool?

The sound of a car engine drew Abraham’s attention to the road. A souped-up sedan raced over the crest of a distant rise, going much too fast along the narrow country lane.

William stared at the car, no doubt attracted to the gaudy chrome and the heavy bass destroying the peaceful quiet.

“Hide in the phone shack.” Abraham opened the door and nudged William inside.

The car approached. Abraham walked to the curb. The driver stopped and rolled down the passenger window. “I’m looking for Yoder. Made a few wrong turns, it seems. Can you give me directions?”

“You are headed the right way. The town is about four miles ahead.”

“I’ll need a room. Can you recommend lodging?”

“There is a hotel south of town. At the intersection of Main and High, turn left. The hotel sits about five blocks south on the left.” Abraham stepped closer. “You are not from this area.”

“I was in Kansas City on business and had a few days off so I decided to explore this part of the state. My hobby is writing articles for travel magazines. A story on Yoder and the Amish people might sell. If you have time, we could schedule an interview.”

The last thing Abraham wanted was publicity about Yoder or his Amish neighbors. “Not much is going on around here. You might find more tourist attractions in Hutchison. They have an Amish community there.”

“I’ll check it out. Thanks for the information about the hotel.” The man handed a business card to Abraham. “You know where to find me for the next few days in case you have time for a cup of coffee, or we could talk over lunch.”

The driver waved and drove away.

Abraham made a mental note of the license plate before he opened the door to the phone booth. His heart stopped. William stood with the phone to his ear. His eyes widened and his face flushed. He dropped the receiver onto the cradle and lowered his gaze.

“Who did you call?”

The boy shook his head. “No one.”