Kit Wilkinson - Lancaster County Reckoning

The woman took the smartphone from his hand. “How long will it take someone to get here? Maybe you should carry him to my car? I can get to a hospital faster than waiting for an ambulance. Right?”

“Wrong.”

“What?” She looked back at him with surprise. “Of course that would be faster.”

“Maybe faster but not better. He may have broken bones that need to be stabilized before he can be moved. I don’t want to cause any more damage than has already happened. I’m not moving him.”

“Right. Right. You’re right. I’m sorry.” She stood back and put her hand to her forehead. She was trembling like a leaf. “But what can we do? We have to help him.”

We? Thomas took off his hat and put it back on his head. It was something he did when his thoughts or emotions were getting away with him. A little trick his father had told him about when he was very young that reminded him to take a deep breath and pull himself together.

“For starters,” he said, “why don’t you tell me who you are.”

The woman wiped her tears and swept her bangs carefully away from her face. At first, Thomas thought she hadn’t heard him or was once again avoiding an answer. But then she looked him dead in the eye and sighed. “I’m...well, I’m Darcy Simmons and I’m—I’m Jesse’s daughter.”

Daughter? What? Jesse didn’t have any kin that Thomas had ever heard of. Yes, he’d been married. But that had been years ago. In fact, his wife had died before Jesse had moved to Willow Trace. Jesse had always been all alone...

The woman—Darcy—had hardly gotten the words out when her fancy smartphone rang out a series of loud beeps that was apparently her ringtone.

She looked at the phone and frowned. “I don’t know that number.”

Still, she touched the screen to accept the call and lifted the phone to her ear. She was so close that Thomas could hear every crazy word of the call. The oddly distorted voice filled the room.

“Oh, Darcy, honey, you’re just as lovely as your mother, but you do have your daddy’s eyes... And you also have something of mine. I’ll be coming around soon to get it back. You can either cooperate when I see you, or you can end up like your dear old dad. Either way, I get what’s mine. See you soon.”

The phone slipped from the woman’s hand. Her head dropped back and her eyes fluttered as her legs collapsed under her and she fell toward the floor.

TWO

The giant Amish man caught Darcy under the arms just before she hit the floor.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” She still felt light-headed and shaky, but she was able to straighten her legs and stand on her own...mostly.

Thomas backed away quickly, as if touching her had stung his hands. “What was that about? That phone call?”

“I have no idea. I told you I don’t know that number.” Darcy’s head swirled. “I have no idea who that was or what he was talking about. The voice didn’t even sound real. It was more like he was using some kind of distorter.”

Thomas frowned down at her, his face darkening with suspicion. “But you are Jesse’s daughter?”

She nodded. “But no one knows that. I only just found out myself.”

The Amish man shook his head up and down as if he understood her words, but Darcy felt like he didn’t believe her. She could hardly blame him. She had trouble believing it herself. After years of being told her father was dead, it had been a shock to have Jesse contact her.

“Okay. Let’s just concentrate on Uncle Jesse,” he said.

“He’s your uncle?” Did that mean this man was her cousin?

“No, but lots of people call him that around here. When I was a kid, he didn’t like us calling him Mister.”

“Oh.” Darcy tried to slow down her breathing. It was hard to imagine this massive, intimidating man had ever been a child.

She’d rarely seen such an imposing figure, so tall and strong, dressed in black trousers and a green button-down. Dark curls spilled out from under his hat and his beard—if you could call it one—was made of thin, sparse stubble, shaved clean to the edges of his broad face. No mustache—which she had heard was the Amish way. His wide brown eyes had golden flecks around the pupils, which seemed to pulse as he stared down at her. He was a Goliath of a man, one continuous string of muscle. If he had been around earlier, whenever the attack had taken place, she doubted anyone would have touched Jesse.

Poor Jesse. She knelt beside him and held his hand. Thomas sat opposite, his eyes closed. She guessed that he was praying as she saw his lips move in silent speech from time to time. She was thankful he asked her no more questions.

And he’d been right. It wasn’t long before help arrived. The EMS workers quickly strapped Jesse on a gurney and started him on fluids. She and Thomas followed the gurney to the ambulance, and watched as it was loaded inside.

On the one hand, she was thankful for Thomas’s presence and his ability to answer questions she couldn’t—about any medical conditions Jesse had and whether he was allergic to any medications. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help resenting him just a little for knowing her own father so much better than she did herself.

When the ambulance was ready to drive away, she and Thomas looked at each other.

“I’m going to follow. You want a ride with me?” she asked.

“Are you sure?” he said hesitantly.

Was he kidding? After that phone call, she wasn’t exactly keen on being alone. She nodded.

Soon, they were at the hospital. The hours blurred together as they waited for news on Jesse’s condition.

Small groups of Amish men and women came through the waiting area. They would talk quietly with Thomas, glance her way once or twice then leave. Thomas stayed on one side of the room. She chose to sit at the other side. She didn’t want to talk or meet more Amish people. She didn’t want to explain who she was or why she was there.

And certainly she didn’t want to talk about the phone call. She didn’t even want to think about it. That hard robotic voice and the person who, unaccountably, knew her. Knew who she was. And knew her connection to Jesse. Someone who, if they really were connected to the attack against Jesse as they’d implied, had almost killed her father. The thought of it sent a shiver down her spine.

She shook away the terrifying thoughts. Right now she just wanted some news about her father. Was he going to live? Was she going to find out why everyone had lied to her for so many years? Or was Jesse going to leave her almost as quickly as he had come back into her life?

“I’m going to get a coffee. Could I get you one?” Thomas stood over her. His long dark curls, freed from his black felt hat, which he twisted nervously in his hands, sprung around his tanned face.

“Sure.” Darcy reached in her bag for money.

“No. It’s on me,” he said. “But why don’t you come down to the cafeteria with me? It will be good to sit in a different seat for a few minutes.”

He hadn’t seemed interested in talking to her in the hours up to now. Why the change? Realization struck as she recalled watching him speak quietly to a doctor at the end of the hall a few minutes earlier.

“You’ve had news?” Darcy stood so quickly her head felt light.

Instead of answering, Thomas nodded toward the elevator bank. She followed him out of the waiting area, into the elevator, then down the hall to the cafeteria. She wanted news of Jesse. Even if it meant talking to this stranger.

“Thank you for the ride to the hospital,” he said, handing her a hot cup.

“Of course,” she said. “Thanks for the coffee.”

They sat opposite each other at one of the cafeteria tables. Darcy stared into the black liquid, watching steam swirl up from the cup. She took a drink. It was bitter and stale, and as it hit her stomach, she was reminded that she’d skipped breakfast and hadn’t had a chance to eat lunch.