Karen Harper - Finding Mercy

* * *

Bishop Esh’s words seemed to cut to the core of things, something Alex had always admired in mentors and bosses, even Marv, whom he was going to betray—as his boss had betrayed everyone who’d trusted him and SkyBound.

“It’s like you been banned from your people for a while, and we understand that.” The old man went on, “And to tell the truth as you have about a sinner, at cost to your own safety—that is also why I said yes to the witness protection people. He makes me to lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside the still waters…that is why too. As the Lord shelters us, we ought to shelter others.”

Alex could only nod. He kept telling himself he was Andrew Lantz now, the Pennsylvania cousin of the family he would stay with and was about to meet. Gerald Branin, the WITSEC Deputy Marshal Inspector in charge of his case, had grilled him about his fake background but had not told him much about the Amish family who would take him in until the case came up in federal court in Manhattan. Five children, he’d been told, four of them still at home. As an only child, that would be a challenge, but maybe it could help to keep him from missing his friends so much. What he wouldn’t give for a good, noisy bar crawl with his buds right now.

Again he surveyed the rolling hills with fertile fields of nearly knee-high corn guarded by tidy farms and barns. It was pretty, he had to admit that, like stepping back into a Currier & Ives painting. He watched other buggies pass with a nod or a wave on this narrow road. Everyone seemed to know the bishop’s buggy—which looked like all the rest to him—and many called out a greeting in the German dialect.

When the bishop turned the buggy down a long lane, Alex saw a pale purple field of flowers marching partway up a high hill. The unearthly beauty of that—and that scent in the air amidst the buzzing of bees as the bishop reined in—seemed so foreign. As tense as Alex felt, the peaceful scene calmed his heart.

“I live just next farm over yonder,” Bishop Esh said, pointing. “Three of us church families close together here—Kauffman, Esh and Lantz—with a real nice pond in the center. You just walk that field there, come have a meal with me and my wife, tell us how you’re doing. Better make it after Friday, though, big family wedding with my daughter marrying the oldest of the Lantz sons. All kinds of things going on. You’re invited too.”

“Thanks. That’s kind of you. I appreciate all you’ve done.”

At least living with these backward, simple people would be a break from the high-speed chaos of his life, Alex thought. He usually lived fast and hard—he’d even been tempted to try an extreme sports vacation once, but he’d chickened out. Since he didn’t know the first thing about horses, barns or crops—or much about the Amish—maybe the next couple of months would be pretty extreme.

* * *

“Wait—maybe that’s them now,” Mr. Branin said, and jumped up to look out the window. “Mr. Lantz, that’s the same buggy that dropped me off here, isn’t it?”

Daad looked out the window as Mamm had been doing off and on, when Ella thought she was just yearning for Seth to bring little Marlena back. “Ya, it’s the bishop—them,” Daad said with a nod.

Ella leaned back in her chair, but it wasn’t worth it to crane her neck. Just get the man here, greet him kindly, then Daad, Abel and Aaron would keep him occupied, she thought. She had loads of work to do getting her new place ready and tending her crop, so she’d be too busy to help much. Her sister, Barbara, usually helped her tend the lavender but she was living with the Kurtz family ten miles outside town, since they had six children and the mother was ailing. Ella missed her younger sister, but Barbara would be back for Seth’s wedding. Everyone expected Barbara would be the next Lantz bride, because she was closer than ever to her come-calling friend, Gabe Kauffman.

“I see he’s tall and thin, this Andrew Lantz,” Daad said. “Can’t tell his hair or eye color from here—hope he’s not got dark eyes and hair. Harder to fit in among our people.”

“Ah, no,” Mr. Branin said, sounding nervous now. “Dark blond hair and blue eyes, though you can’t tell it with that hat yet.” He hurried to the back door behind Daad. With a single, small black suitcase in his hand, the stranger appeared on the threshold behind Bishop Esh.

Though Ella had heard Daad describe the Auslander, she was surprised to see he was a whole head taller than the bishop. His square chin had a little cleft in the middle of it under his firm lips. He put his bag down but kept rotating his hat brim in his hands, clean-looking ones, no broken nails or bruises. Daad introduced each of them in turn by name as they stood at their places around the table. She realized she’d been rudely staring.

“Next, Ella, middle child, eldest daughter, keeps the lavender field, sells her goods, yet a maidal—not married.”

Did Daad have to introduce her like that? Not only as a maidal, but sells her goods and not married yet?

“Ella.” The stranger repeated her name as he had not the others. His gaze, sharp blue as winter ice, snagged hers and held a moment. His voice was deep and in just the few words he said, she sensed how lost he felt. He looked sturdy, though, with the muscles he’d need to help around here. His chest swelled his shirt and his upper arms filled out his Amish coat, which was just a bit too short at his wrists. His trousers fitted him just fine, though. He had new running shoes; so clean and white they stood out.

“Welcome, Cousin Andrew,” she said, as the others had before, and then the introductions went on until Mamm sat him down and fed him and the bishop pie and iced tea, while Ella and Barbara bustled around to help Mamm prepare a light evening meal. They would feed him up good, unless his working around here kept the weight off.

More than once, when Ella darted a quick glance his way, their guest—Andrew—had those sharp blue eyes still on her. Later, when she placed his roast beef and gravy sandwich in front of him, she said, “Things are upside down today, first dessert, now the main course.”

“I appreciate both,” he said directly, quietly to her, then addressed everyone in a louder voice. “I mean to pitch in and help any way I can, though I’ve got to admit, planting a memorial tree after 9/11 is about as close as I’ve come to farming.”

“Oh, ya,” Daad said, “9/11, when the country was attacked and so many people died. Whatever is in the evil and sad past in your life, Andrew, we will keep you safe here.”

Ella was amazed to see tears shimmer in Andrew’s eyes. His lower lip quivered. He looked just the way she felt when she was afraid of the drowning darkness she had shared with no one and never could. She fought the desire to put her hand on his shoulder and began to serve the others.

2

THAT EVENING AS dusk descended, Ella worked late in Seth’s house. No, it was her place now, she reminded herself as she carried cartons of lavender products in from her work shed. Kitchen cabinets and counters, two long tables and planks on sawhorses would have to do for shelves and work areas until she could get everything built the way she wanted. She hoped to buy a still someday so she could distill the precious lavender oil. At least she’d finished stitching her dress to attend Hannah at her wedding. She’d been thrilled when Hannah asked her to be one of the side sitters, special friends of the wedding couple.

From dowels overheard, Ella hung the remaining bunches of last year’s dried flowers by the rubber bands around their stems. Instantly, the kitchen and living area, even the two small first-floor bedrooms, gave off the familiar, delicate smell. Sometimes she was so used to the scent that her nose went numb from it, but it was deep in her mind and heart and she could imagine it. The kitchen here bothered her, but not because it was so small. On its wooden floor, Seth’s wife, Lena, had died of an aortic aneurism, something she’d carried inside since birth and no one knew about.