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.
“Down, down,” Onkel Samuel said, intercepting them. The dogs spun around in excitement, barking.
Matthew tightened his grip on her neck and lifted his feet out of reach. “Mom! Do they bite?”
Onkel Samuel set a gentle hand on his head and ruffled his hair. “No, they will be your best friends before you know it. Especially if you sneak them some treats.”
His wife turned a look on him. “Don’t suggest he waste my good cooking on dogs!”
He only laughed, his face creasing above the distinctive Amish beard that reached his chest. It was the clean-shaven upper lip that made it different from facial hair among the Englisch. “Boys will be boys,” he declared. “I will bring your bags once I stable Molly,” he added, and got back into the buggy. The dogs hesitated, then bolted after him as he drove toward the barn.
“It’s so good to be here.” Rebecca’s eyes burned. She tried to smile. “Thank you for having us.”
“You’re family,” Aenti Emma said simply.
Sarah hugged her.
“We can’t know God’s purpose,” Aenti Emma murmured, “but the bad things that happened brought you and Matthew to us, which is reason to rejoice. Grossmammi especially has worried about you. Letters aren’t the same.”
“No. I wish...” Rebecca didn’t finish the thought, and saw in the two women’s kind faces that she didn’t need to.
Just then the front door in the grossdawdi haus opened and her grandmother hurried across the lawn to envelop her in more hugs. Her grandfather followed more slowly, every breath a rasp. In the eighteen years since she’d seen them, they’d aged more than she had anticipated. Both had white hair now and looked frail. Guilt stabbed Rebecca. Why hadn’t she managed to visit? Brought Matthew sooner for them to meet?
But her grandmother showed no hint of accusation. It would not be her way. “How often I have prayed to have you restored to us!” Her wide smile included Matthew. “And now to be able to get to know your son, as well! Such a blessing.”
The entire family ushered her and Matthew into the house. In no time, Sarah had poured glasses of lemonade while Rebecca’s aunt and grandmother set out