Janice Kay - Plain Refuge

Once she and Matthew were appropriately garbed, another cousin had driven them several towns away, where they caught yet another bus. They had meandered south into Missouri, changing buses frequently. By this time, Rebecca’s entire body ached until she could hardly pick out the new pains from the places that already hurt when they set out from San Francisco. But at last they were here.

Aenti Emma leaned forward and patted Rebecca’s knee with her work-worn hand. “Ach, here we are, talking and talking, when I can see you close to collapsing! Lunch and some sleep is what you need.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she admitted. A glance told her Matthew was nodding off already.

She was grateful when her aunt and cousin lapsed into silence and let her do the same.

She found herself thinking about the cop who had talked to Onkel Samuel just before they left town. A sudden certainty that someone was watching her had felt like icy fingertips brushing her nape. She’d known she should keep her head down so as not to draw attention, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself from looking around. If Tim was already here, waiting for her... But then she’d seen the uniformed police officer, instead, as broad-shouldered and strong as the farmers and woodworkers she knew among the Amish, men who labored hard. His face was too hard to be handsome, too inexpressive, his eyes too steely. His cold scrutiny reminded her of the way Detective Estevez had looked at her. She guessed this police officer to be older than she was, perhaps in his midthirties. His hair was a sun-streaked maple brown that probably darkened in the cold Missouri winters.

Rebecca looked down to see that her hands were clenched together hard enough to turn the tips of her fingers white. With an effort, she loosened her grip. Yes, that man made her anxious. Had he only been interested in her because he’d noticed the bruises? But why had he been leaning against the building watching people get off the bus in the first place? Did he check out new arrivals every time the bus stopped in Hadburg? Was that one of his duties? In this rural county, she wouldn’t have thought the local police force would have the personnel to be so vigilant—unless they were watching for someone in particular. Could Detective Estevez have figured out where she’d gone already?

A bump in her pulse rate left her light-headed. She was being stupid. Estevez hadn’t bothered her since their one interview. Tim shouldn’t notice her disappearance until tomorrow, after he arrived to pick up Matthew for his scheduled visit. And violating the custody agreement wasn’t an offense that would draw police attention, certainly not at first. Would Tim even dare file a missing-person’s report on her or accuse her of custodial interference?

No, the last thing he wanted was to attract more attention from the police. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t hire a private investigator to find her, if he didn’t set out to do so himself. She wondered what he’d tell his father. Tim wouldn’t want the man to know his grandson was out of his reach.

And Josh. What would Tim tell the partner who’d been pressuring him? Would he try to protect her, as she was protecting him?

She feared not, given the results after she had gone to him about the shooting and the phone threat.

Aenti Emma swayed gently with the motion of the carriage, her gaze resting on Rebecca and Matthew.

“I saw Onkel Samuel talking to that police officer,” Rebecca blurted, not sounding as casual as she wanted. “Does he know him?”

“We all know Sheriff Byler. His family moved here when he was, oh, sixteen or so, you see.” An odd hint of discomfiture in her voice caught Rebecca’s attention, but Aenti Emma continued, “He went away and nobody knew for a long time what he was up to, but he became a police officer, of all things! And in the big city.” She shook her head, scandalized by the mere idea. Aenti Emma had probably never been as far as St. Joseph, let alone Kansas City. Why would a local boy want to leave placid Henness County for a place that was all concrete and towers of glass and steel and noise? Sirens and car horns and people shouting. So much noise.

“What city?” Rebecca asked, as if it made any difference.

“I heard he went to St. Louis. I guess he didn’t like it, because he came back three years ago and got the Englisch to vote for him to be sheriff. That Gerald Warren, who was sheriff before, nobody liked him. He was lazy, and he looked down on the people.”

The Leit, she meant. The Amish. Lazy Sheriff Warren wouldn’t have been alone. Even tourists equated plain with simpleminded and gullible. Rebecca’s mother used to talk about how much resentment was caused by the slow, horse-drawn buggies with metal wheels that wore ruts in roads, even though the Amish paid road taxes like everyone else.

“So you like this Sheriff Byler?”

“He’s a good man,” Aenti Emma said, although a hint of ambivalence remained. “He listens and understands why we won’t go to the law most of the time.”

Rebecca nodded her understanding. Would that “good man” poke his nose in her problems? Perhaps she should take advantage of the opportunity if he did. It wouldn’t be a bad thing if he knew to watch for anyone asking about her. Even if she didn’t tell him about the unholy bargain she’d made with Tim, if the sheriff thought she was running from her ex-husband because he was stalking her, he might form another line of protection.

But of course that would mean telling him she wasn’t Amish. Almost instantly she shook her head. What if he went looking for police records concerning the alleged abuse? Or even searched online for information about Tim? It might be the modern equivalent of yelling, Here she is. No, it would be better to stay away from Sheriff Byler, however good his intentions were.

She had to grab the seat as the buggy turned sharply. The wheels made a crunching sound that told her they were no longer on a paved road. Peering out the small window, she saw fields of corn growing high in the August heat. Oh—and sunflowers, an entire field of them! A minute later, the crops were replaced in her view by grazing cattle. A sign for a produce stand caught her eye. This was all so familiar. Comforted, she sat back and gently stroked her now-sleeping son’s hair.

Finally they turned into a narrow lane. Corn grew on one side, while to the other was pasture. Enormous, dappled silver horses grazed. Rebecca smiled. Onkel Samuel still bred and raised Percherons, as his father had before him. As a child, she’d been awed by the gentle giants with velvety lips and stiff whiskers and big brown eyes. They had seemed magical to her. She hoped they would to Matthew, too. He didn’t understand why they were making this trip or who these people were, but she had confidence he’d enjoy himself as much here as she had as a girl.

Another bonus of staying here—she didn’t have to worry about Matthew getting to a phone and calling his father. She had left her cell phone behind for fear it could be used to trace them, and Sarah was the last of Aenti Emma and Onkel Samuel’s children left at home. Some Amish teenagers did have cell phones during their running-around time, but Sarah looked to be past that. Rebecca had no intention of telling Matthew about the phone in the shanty that used to be halfway between the Graber farm and the neighbors.

The buggy swayed to a stop and Onkel Samuel got down and came around to let them out. She carried her sleeping son in her arms, though he began to awaken with the movement.

The large farmhouse was just as she remembered it, painted a crisp white, the wide porch still holding a swing and several comfortable chairs. A small wing attached to one side of the house, the grossdawdi haus where her grandparents now lived, had its own porch. Two dogs raced toward them from the huge barn.