single man. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, let alone a handsome dark-haired Amish fellow who was brash enough to strike up a conversation with a woman traveling alone. Perhaps he had meant to be kind, but his words stung. He was half right. She wasn’t going to a wedding. She was running away from one.
Today should have been her wedding day, but all her dreams of the happy life ahead of her had come crashing down when her fiancé announced three weeks ago that he had changed his mind. He wanted to marry her sister Olivia instead. Today had been their wedding day.
How could Joseph betray her like that? How could her own sister deceive her by seeing Joseph behind her back? They were questions without answers that tumbled around in her mind like leaves in a whirlwind. Helen refused to admit that some of the blame rested squarely on her shoulders. She was the victim.
The shock and the shame had been more than Helen could bear, although she tried to pretend it didn’t matter. She was so angry with them. That was wrong. She knew it, but she couldn’t change how she felt. The two people she trusted most in the world had betrayed her and made her a laughingstock in the community.
The morning of her sister’s wedding, Helen had realized she couldn’t remain at home and watch Olivia wed Joseph. Without a clear idea of what she was going to do, she’d taken her savings and purchased a one-way bus ticket out of Nappanee, Indiana, with the intention of staying with her aunt Charlotte. She hoped she could find a job and get a place of her own soon. She prayed her aunt would take her in. She hadn’t had time to write and explain that she was coming nor had she told anyone where she was going.
Helen had met her father’s youngest sister a few times over the years when they came to visit at Christmas and such, but she didn’t know her aunt well. Charlotte was something of an odd recluse and not overly fond of visitors, but Helen would make herself useful. She was fleeing to her aunt’s home because Charlotte lived the farthest away of any of the relatives. She had never married, choosing to stay at home and care for her aging parents until they were both gone. She had a small income from the rental of farmland her father had left her near Bowmans Crossing, Ohio. According to the letters she wrote to Helen’s parents, she lived happily with only her pets in a little house by the river.
It seemed like the perfect hideaway to Helen, but as the miles flew by she was learning distance alone didn’t diminish a heartache.
* * *
Mark roused as the bus slowed and jolted to a halt. “Berlin, Ohio,” the driver announced over the intercom. He opened the door with a loud whoosh.
Mark stretched and rose to his feet. After pulling his duffel bag from the overhead bin, he made his way down the aisle and got off the bus. It would be wonderful to sleep in his own bed after having stayed in motels for the past four days, but at least his trip had been a success. He looked forward to telling his uncle that they had two new stores in Columbus willing to sell the handmade furniture produced in his workshop.
Berlin didn’t have an actual bus station. They had stopped in a parking lot in front a local restaurant that was already closed for the evening. A single floodlight provided the only illumination, with moths and other insects fluttering around it.
Several other Amish passengers got off the bus including the weeping woman who seemed to have recovered her composure. She pointedly avoided looking at Mark and kept her eyes downcast. There were several buggies parked along the roadway. Various passengers gravitated to them. The woman spoke to the bus driver, who was unloading luggage. He pointed toward a white van at the edge of the parking lot. She nodded and crossed to the vehicle where she spoke to someone inside and then got in.
Not much more than a wide spot in the road, the village of Berlin was still fifteen miles from Mark’s destination of Bowmans Crossing. He looked around for his uncle or one of his cousins but didn’t see them. They knew he was coming in on this bus, so he expected they would be along soon.
The driver of the white van approached. Mark recognized Abner Stutzman. The wiry gray-haired man was one his uncle’s English neighbors who earned extra money by providing taxi service to the Amish folks in the community.
“Evening, Mark.”
“Guten nacht, Abner.”
“Your uncle arranged for me to pick you up and take you home tonight.”
Mark grinned. That meant he’d reach his bed all the sooner. “I’m grateful for Onkel Isaac’s thoughtfulness.”
“I hope you don’t mind me taking on another fare. There’s a young lady needing a ride, too. She’s going past Bowmans Crossing, so it won’t hold you up any.”
“That’s fine.” Mark hoped she wouldn’t start crying again when she saw he was sharing her ride.
Abner rubbed his hands together. “Okay, let’s get going. The missus came along to keep me company, but she doesn’t like to stay out late.”
Since Abner’s wife was seated up front, Mark had no choice but to get in the back. The woman from the bus was already seated in the second row. He had the option of sitting beside her or behind her in the third row of seats. Would she start crying again if he sat beside her? Riding in the back of Abner’s van might trigger Mark’s motion sickness. Which would be worse? He put his duffel bag on the rear seats and sat down beside her without a word. She kept her face averted.
“All set?” Abner asked, looking at them in the rearview mirror.
The woman nodded slightly. Mark said, “We’re ready.”
Abner pulled out of the parking lot and onto the narrow highway headed toward Bowmans Crossing. After a few long minutes of awkward silence, Mark decided perhaps he should apologize. He leaned toward her. “I’m sorry I upset you earlier.”
“It wasn’t you,” she murmured. He had to strain to hear her.
She kept her face turned toward the window. He wished he could see her better. “Goot. I’d hate to think I added to your troubles.”
“You didn’t.” Her clipped reply wasn’t encouraging.
“If no one is ill or has died, why were you crying?”
“My reasons are my own.”
He shifted uncomfortably on the seat, feeling out of his depth but sure that his uncle would want him to try and aid her. “Some people say it helps to talk about your problems.”
“Well, some people are wrong.”
He sighed inwardly with relief. She didn’t want to pour out her troubles any more than he wanted to hear them. “I find that’s true. I’m glad you don’t wish to discuss it with me.”
Her eyes widened. “Then why did you offer?”
“My onkel tells me I need to work on my communication skills. He says it’s important for a business owner. I’m supposed to practice showing interest in people and become a better listener.”
“So you chose me to practice on?”
He caught a hint of anger in her tone. “No need to ruffle your feathers.”
“My feathers are not ruffled,” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes snapping with irritation.
“I’d say they are getting more ruffled by the second.”
“You are a rude man. We’re done talking.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest and turned back to the window.
She had no idea how glad he was to hear her say that. Still, he couldn’t help wondering what had made her cry in the first place. She stirred his curiosity, and that was unusual.
Twenty-five silent minutes later, Abner pulled to a stop in front of Mark’s uncle’s home. Mark tipped his hat to the woman and got out. She didn’t even glance his way. To his mind, she was the one being rude.
His uncle’s advice was harder to put into practice than he expected it to be.
*