didn’t care. She had seen too much death. She wanted this man to live. “Surly God has not led us to him only to snatch his life away.”
“We cannot know Gotte wille,” her father chided.
God’s will was beyond human understanding, but Karen prayed He would show His mercy to this unknown man.
“How did he get here?” Jacob asked getting down from the buggy. He handed off the reins to his younger brother. Noah didn’t seem to mind. He stood at Molly’s side transfixed by the sight of the stricken man.
“Perhaps he was injured on the road and walked this far before he collapsed,” Eli suggested.
Squatting by the stranger’s feet, Jacob shook his head. “He didn’t walk. The bottoms of his socks aren’t even muddy.”
They all glanced at each other as the implications sank in. Someone had dumped this man and left him to die. Karen grew sick at the idea of such cruelty and tightened her hold on him.
Eli looked at his children and spoke sternly. “This is a matter for the English sheriff. It is outsider business. We must not become involved. Do all of you understand this?”
The boys and Anna nodded. Jacob stepped away and began walking along the ditch toward the highway. Eli scowled at him, but didn’t call him back. A dozen yards down the road Jacob stopped and dropped to his haunches. Karen thought she heard the faint sound of chimes for a second but then nothing more.
Eli called out to Jacob. “Did you find something?”
“Tire tracks from a car, that’s all.” Rising, Jacob shoved both his hands in his pockets, glanced over his shoulder and then kept walking.
In the distance, Karen heard the sound of a siren approaching at last. Her father laid a hand on her shoulder. “I will go to the highway to show the English where they are needed.”
When her father and Noah had driven away, Karen looked down at her stranger. His eyes were open, but his stare was blank. Cupping his cheek, she smiled at him. “Rest easy. Help is almost here.”
At the sound of her voice, he focused on her face. He tried to speak, but no words came out. His breath escaped in a deep sigh, and his eyes closed once more.
She bit her lip as she tightened her hold on him. “Just a little longer. You can do it.”
Within moments the sheriff’s SUV and an ambulance arrived, stopping a few feet away. Her father and Noah followed them. One of the paramedics brought his gear and dropped to his knees beside Karen. “I’ll take over now, miss.”
She had to let them do their job, but she didn’t want to let go of her stranger. She had promised him she wouldn’t leave him. God had brought her to this man’s side in his hour of need. A deep feeling of responsibility for him had taken hold in her heart, but she realized her job was done.
She cupped his cheek one last time. “You will be fine now.”
Rising, she stepped aside praying she had spoken the truth.
Shaking out her damp, muddy skirt, Karen crossed her arms against the chill morning air. With trepidation she saw the sheriff turned his attention her way. He was intimidating, with his gun strapped to his hip and his badge glinting on the front of his leather jacket. Sheriff Nick Bradley was English, but he had family who had remained Plain. Members of Karen’s church believed him to be a fair and impartial officer of the law and friendly toward the Amish.
Stopping in front of her, he pushed his tan hat up with one finger. “Tell me exactly what happened here this morning, Miss Imhoff.”
He took notes as she answered his questions and then talked to each of the children separately. Karen barely listened to her siblings’ accounts. Her entire attention was focused on the man being cared for by the emergency personnel.
Her fingers itched to touch the Englischer’s face again. She wanted to reassure him, and herself, that he was going to be all right.
The sheriff followed Jacob to where he’d found the tire tracks, took pictures and placed yellow plastic markers at the site. When he finished, he approached Karen’s father. “Mr. Imhoff, the children can go on to school, but I may have more questions for them later.”
Papa nodded, but Karen could tell he wasn’t pleased. This was outsider business. Papa wanted nothing to do with it. The children, on the other hand, shared excited looks. They would have plenty to tell their friends when they finally got to school. Within a day everyone in the community would know what had taken place on the Imhoff farm this morning.
One of the ambulance crew returned Karen’s coat and then loaded their patient into the ambulance. As she slipped the wool jacket on, she felt the stranger’s warmth surround her. Lifting the collar to her face, she breathed in the spicy-woodsy scent that clung to the dark wool.
His fate was out of her hands now. As the emergency vehicle drove away, she realized she would never see her Englischer again.
John wiped the last trace of shaving lather from his neck with one of the hospital’s coarse white towels. The face staring back at him remained as unfamiliar today as the new shoes on his feet.
How could a man forget what he looked like? How could he forget who he was, his own name?
Turning on the water, he rinsed the blue disposable blade. He knew how to use a razor but not where he’d purchased his last one or what brand he preferred. Things every man knew. It seemed only the personal parts of his memory were missing. It was the most frustrating part of his condition.
Traumatic amnesia his doctors called it. Those two words seemed woefully inadequate to describe the entity that had swallowed his life the way a black hole swallowed a star without letting a single ray of light escape.
He almost laughed at the absurdity of his thought. He could remember that weird trivial fact but not his own name. How ridiculous was that?
His doctors said his memory would return in time. They told him not to force it. Yet after eight days his past remained a blank slate. He was sick of hearing their reassurances.
“I’d like to put them in my shoes and see if they could take their own advice,” he muttered as he put away his razor. Chances were good they’d be doing the same thing he was. Relentlessly trying to make himself remember.
Looking up, he stretched his hand toward the likeness in the mirror and forced a smile to his stiff lips. “Hello, my name is…”
Nothing.
Nothing came to mind this morning just as nothing had come to mind for the past week. The only identity he had was the one the hospital had given him. John Doe.
Staring at the mirror, he said, “Hi, I’m Andy. Hello, I’m Bill. I’m Carl. I’m David. My name is Edward.”
If he did happen on the right name would he even know it? Rage and frustration ripped through him, bringing on a crushing headache that nearly took him to his knees.
“Who am I?” he shouted. His fingers ached where they gripped the porcelain lip of the sink.
His whole life was gone. He couldn’t pull a single relevant detail out of the darkness in his mind.
He touched the bandage on the side of his scalp. According to the local law enforcement, he had been beaten, dumped in a ditch and left with no wallet or identification. Every effort to identify him was under way, but with no success thus far. His fingerprints and DNA weren’t in the system. No one was looking for a man fitting his description. Even TV reports and newspaper articles had failed to bring in one solid lead.
Somewhere he must have a mother, a father, maybe even a wife, but the man in the mirror had no faces or names for anyone he’d known before