The Amish Witness

“You’re too young for a heart attack. And I’m not the one who appears to be creeping around.”

“Don’t be foolish. I’m not creeping anywhere.”

“I thought you’d be in the kitchen helping Mary clean up,” Thomas said.

“And I thought you’d left for home.”

“I was leaving.” He came closer. “But I remembered one of the horses has a sore on his leg and I wanted to take a second look at it.” He grinned. “Your turn. What are you doing scampering through the barn?”

“I don’t scamper.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. The Elizabeth he had known all his life never walked if she could avoid it. She scampered, scurried, skipped and frolicked through life. It did his heart good to see that some things about her hadn’t changed.

“I was going to check on my car.” She waved her hand toward the rear barn doors. “I’ve got it under a tarp behind the barn.”

“And you think one of the livestock took it for a joyride?”

Elizabeth laughed at his foolishness, which was exactly what he wanted. He’d always tried to make her happy and her life carefree. He knew she needed a heavy dose of that now. Besides, he had always loved to hear the tinkling sound of her giggles and was not disappointed to hear them now.

“That is a ridiculous notion and you know it.” But she covered her mouth to stop a giggle anyway and he smiled. “If I am going to stay, I have to get the car shipshape and ready to sell.”

“If you stay?” he asked.

“We haven’t spoken to the bishop yet. He might not want me to stay.”

Thomas grinned. He didn’t speak but sent her a knowing glance.

“Okay. So he’s probably going to let me stay. But I’ll still have to sell my car.”

“How did it feel to be able to drive your own car?”

“I must admit that is one of the Englisch luxuries I really enjoyed.”

“Will you miss it?”

“Nah. If I feel like driving, I’ll climb on one of the plows and take a spin in the fields with the horses.”

Now Thomas had to laugh, as his mind painted a picture of that event.

“I find it hard to picture you behind the wheel of a car,” he said. “You seem more the buggy type.”

“I am the buggy type. Always have been. But I loved my little Honda Fit, with its racing stripes on the side.”

“Honda Fit?”

“Yep. C’mon. I’ll show it to you.”

Like a flash she was off, scampering across the barn floor toward the back exit. Thomas chuckled, pushed off from the stall he’d been leaning against and lumbered after her.

“Thomas.”

The urgency in her voice made his blood run cold. What if that man had returned? He raced toward the back of the barn. When he cleared the open doorway, he skidded to a stop.

Elizabeth stood to his right, leaning heavily against the barn wall.

Thomas shot a hurried glance in every other direction, trying to find the danger or intruder, but saw nothing. His eyes moved back toward Elizabeth and his heart squeezed. She looked so fragile and small and scared. Her body trembled and the piece of paper she held in her hand rattled.

“Elizabeth? What’s wrong?”

The blood had drained from her face. She was almost as white as the paper she held in her hands. Fear widened her eyes and she didn’t speak. Shakily, she held out the note.

He slid it from her fingers. Anger coursed through his body when he read the words:

I want what is mine. I will contact you again soon with a time and place to meet. Tell no one. I warn you, give it to me or die.

* * *

“Kumm in. Sit down.” Bishop Eli Schwartz ushered Thomas, Elizabeth and Mary into the front room. His wife, Sarah, offered them tea and cookies, which they gratefully accepted. Once his wife had left the room, the bishop turned his attention to his guests.

“Welcome back, Elizabeth. It is good to see you again. I heard you were back. Are you here for a visit or are you planning to stay?”

Elizabeth wasn’t surprised he had heard she was back. Nothing traveled faster in the Amish community than news. She tried unsuccessfully not to squirm in her seat. Instead she attempted to hide her nervousness by clasping her fingers tightly in her lap.

“My intention, Bishop, was to be baptized and move back permanently.”

“Wonderful.” The bishop’s gaze flew from one to the other before it settled on Elizabeth. He raised a brow. “And now?”

Thomas glanced at her for permission and when she nodded he took over the conversation. She listened with only half an ear as he filled in the bishop on everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

She released a breath and relaxed. She knew she shouldn’t be relying on Thomas. She should be explaining the circumstances to the bishop on her own. She was strong, independent and hadn’t needed a man’s help for seven years. She didn’t need a man to speak for her now.

But having someone to talk to, someone to comfort her, someone to make her feel protected and safe, even if just for a little while—was that really so bad?

“Elizabeth?”

She startled at the sound of her name.

“The piece of paper?” The bishop held out his hand.

Elizabeth drew the folded paper from her apron pocket and handed it over.

The older man studied it, deep furrows appearing in his forehead and at the sides of his mouth. Then he folded the paper and handed it back to her.

“Who else knows about this?” he asked.

“No one.”

The bishop nodded, leaned back in his chair and silently stroked his beard.