Debby Giusti

Amish Safe House


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in the kitchen.

      “Sit on the bench, children,” he directed. “Your mother can take the chair across from me.”

      “May I help serve the food?” she asked.

      “Everyone likes pancakes?” He raised a brow.

      Kayla’s eyes widened. “I do.”

      “William, what about you?”

      He shrugged. “They’re okay.”

      “I also scrambled eggs and fried some slices of ham.” Abraham handed Julia a plate. “Give the children as much as they can eat.”

      While she put pancakes and a slice of ham on each plate along with a spoonful of scrambled eggs, Abraham poured milk for the children and coffee for the adults.

      He held her chair, which she hadn’t expected. How long had it been since anyone had done that for her?

      Shaking off the memory of Charlie on one of their first dates, she slid onto the chair and placed her napkin on her lap.

      William reached for his fork. She held up her hand, waiting as Abraham sat and bowed his head. Eyeing her son, she nodded for him to follow Abraham’s lead and hoped both children would remember how to give thanks.

      Not that God would be listening to Julia’s prayer. Still, she was grateful. Keep us safe, she thought before grabbing a fork and lifting a portion of the sweet and savory pancake into her mouth.

      “Breakfast is delicious,” she said between bites.

      William, usually a picky eater, gobbled down everything on his plate and asked for more.

      Abraham nodded his approval. “You have a good appetite, yah?”

      Will wrinkled his brow and chuckled. “Yah.”

      Julia frowned at her son. She was grateful Abraham either hadn’t realized or chose to ignore William’s disrespect.

      Once they had eaten, she helped Abraham clear the table. “I can wash the dishes. You mentioned having chores to do.”

      “The soap is under the sink.” He grabbed a hat hanging on a wall peg. “Come with me, William. We need to feed the neighbor’s livestock.”

      The boy hesitated.

      “William,” he called again.

      Slowly, the boy rose and shuffled to the door.

      Abraham grabbed a basket from the sideboard. “Kayla, you can gather eggs.”

      “What about Annie?”

      He smiled. “Annie should stay inside and help your mother with the dishes.”

      Satisfied with the response, Kayla sat the doll on a chair and hurried after Abraham.

      “Is gathering eggs like an Easter egg hunt, Mr. Abraham?”

      “Perhaps a bit. I will show you.” He motioned the child toward the door and then glanced at Julia. “After Kayla collects the eggs, she will return to the house. Then William and I will go to the farm across the road. Harvey Raber and his sons are delivering the furniture they make to customers who placed orders. The neighbors lend a hand while they are gone.”

      Julia glanced quickly around the tidy kitchen and peered into the living area. “Shall I start cleaning?”

      “You are a housekeeper in name only, Julia. You and Kayla can return to your house. I am sure you have things to do there.”

      She appreciated his thoughtfulness. “I’d like to unpack.”

      “Lock the door. If there is a problem, ring the dinner bell. I will hear you.”

      In spite of the peaceful setting and Abraham’s attempt to welcome them to farm life, his mention of using a bell if she or Kayla had a problem, made the anxiety Julia had felt in Philadelphia return. She and the children had traveled over a thousand miles to elude the Philadores, yet the truth remained. Frankie Fuentes was a killer, and he was after her son.

      * * *

      Abraham hurried Kayla to the henhouse while William sat on the porch steps, looking totally uninterested in anything about the farm. From what he had seen so far, the two children seemed to be complete opposites. Kayla embraced life to the full, while William hung back and needed to be coaxed into new endeavors.

      Kayla’s eyes were wide with wonder as she stood on tiptoe and peered into one of the nests. She spied an egg and placed it in her basket.

      “Don’t the chickens get upset that their eggs are gone?” she asked.

      “They will lay more tomorrow, Kayla.” Abraham pointed to the corner of the henhouse. “Check there. I usually find an egg or two hidden under the hay.”

      The child’s search proved fruitful and soon she was headed back to the house with a smile of contentment on her pretty face and a basket full of eggs.

      “I’ll tell Mama to make something with the eggs like Mrs. Fielding did.”

      “Mrs. Fielding?” Abraham asked.

      “She lived in an upstairs apartment and used to take care of William and me when Mama had to work.”

      “I am sure she was a good woman.”

      “Mrs. Fielding told me she was a God-fearing woman. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I told her I didn’t fear God because I loved Him.”

      Abraham tried not to smile, but Kayla’s sincerity touched his heart. “Hurry into the house and tell your mother that William and I are going to Mr. Raber’s farm.”

      “Can I go with you?”

      “Maybe next time.”

      She skipped toward the house and stopped on the porch step to wave goodbye.

      “Go inside, Kayla,” he called to her.

      The child climbed the stairs, knocked and scooted into the house when Julia opened the door. She stood for a long moment in the doorway, staring at him. The breeze pulled at her golden hair. She caught the elusive strands and tugged them back into place before she closed the door again, leaving Abraham with a curious sensation in the pit of his stomach.

      He glanced at William, who shuffled along the drive, his head down and shoulders slumped. “You act as if you would rather have stayed with your mother.”

      “I would rather have stayed in Philadelphia,” the boy said with a huff. “Besides, I don’t like to get up early.”

      “You are tired from your journey?”

      The boy nodded. “Tired and bored.”

      Abraham chuckled under his breath. With all the chores that needed to be done on the farm, William would not be bored for long.

      “Grab that bucket and fill it with feed for the horses in the paddock,” Abraham said when they entered the neighbor’s barn. The bucket was heavy when filled, but William carried it to the trough and then repeated the process.

      “Now we will muck the stalls.” Abraham handed the boy a pitchfork and pointed to an empty stall. “Start there.”

      From the look on William’s face, Abraham knew he was not happy, but he worked hard, and if he complained, he did so under his breath.

      “Next we will lay fresh straw.”

      William followed Abraham’s lead and a bed of straw soon covered the floor of the stalls.

      “You have done a good job.” Abraham patted the boy’s shoulder. “We will go home and do the same in my barn.”

      An almost imperceptible groan escaped Will’s lips. Abraham pretended not to notice and led the way back to the country road that divided the two farms.

      Raber’s phone