Patricia Davids - An Amish Christmas

Depression lowered its dark blanket over him. “Thanks for the supper.”

“You are most welcome. I will expect you at our breakfast table in the morning,” she stated firmly. The look in her eyes told him she was used to being the boss.

Her family would be there, people who would stare at him with pity or worse. Was he ready for that?

Not waiting for his answer, she said, “I will send Jacob to get you if you don’t appear. No, I will send Noah. His endless questions will make you wish you had stayed in Hope Springs. The only way to silence him is to feed him. Guten nacht, John Doe.”

“Good night, Karen.”

The ribbons of her white bonnet fluttered over her shoulders as she spun around and headed out the door. It appeared he wouldn’t be allowed to hide here in the house if she had her way.

That was okay. He wouldn’t mind seeing her face across the breakfast table or at any other time. Why wasn’t she married?

He reined in the thought quickly. It was none of his business. She was an attractive woman with a vibrant personality, but he was in no position to think about flexing his social skills. What if he had a wife waiting for him somewhere?

He stared at his left hand. No discernible pale band indicated he normally wore a wedding ring. It wasn’t proof positive, of course. Not every married man wore a wedding band. Did he feel married?

How could he remember frying trout and not remember if he had a wife?

The creaking of a floorboard in the other room caught his attention. Was there someone in the house with him? His mouth went dry as a new fear struck.

Had someone come back to finish the job and make sure he was dead?

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