sun blazed, and the sky was an arch of blue without a cloud for her to turn into a fantasy castle. Somehow, she didn’t mind. Just lying here felt good. Except...her mind kept wanting to nudge at the dark wall separating her from important memories, like a tongue irresistibly drawn to poke at a loose tooth.
She pushed gently at the wall. It didn’t so much as quiver. Ran at it and bounced painfully off, leaving her brain feeling bruised.
Wincing, she told herself to quit. The doctor had said her memories would come in their own time.
Aenti would have any number of biblical quotes to chide her for her impatience. In fact, one popped into her head.
This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it. Psalms 118. That couldn’t be more fitting, she decided, relaxing.
The sun began to creep over her. She ought to move. As fair-skinned as she was, she’d burn. But the heat had made her sleepy. She drifted, aware of distant voices, where her uncle and cousins worked, the bang of the screen on the back door closing once, the darting movement of a squirrel scuttling up the maple. Birds calling, and was that the buzz of a cicada? Her eyelids sank closed.
The sound of an approaching car, its throaty engine and the crunch of gravel beneath its tires, disrupted the utter peace of the afternoon. Abby pried open her eyes and rolled her head on the grass to see the long driveway. It wasn’t as if cars didn’t sometimes come down this road. Amish had Englisch friends, or at least acquaintances. Customers for their businesses. During their rumspringa, or running-around time, teenagers could take advantage of the freedom to ride in cars, and even use cell phones. This might be a friend of Joshua’s.
It was actually a big, black SUV that turned into the Kemp driveway. Too large and expensive for any teenager to be driving, surely. Abby sat up, then wished she hadn’t. She’d rather be unnoticed by this visitor. Left to her peace.
But instead of proceeding toward the huge, German-style barn, as the driver would have if he’d had business with her uncle, the SUV stopped closest to the house. A man got out on the far side of it and walked around to the front bumper.
A police officer, she saw with a jolt, tall, well built, his hair brown. He wore dark glasses, but she’d swear he was looking straight at her.
He turned, then, though, and she saw that Onkel Eli was coming from the barn to meet this man. The screen door rattled, and she suspected that her aunt was sneaking a peek out, too, to see who was here. Having a law-enforcement officer show up, that couldn’t be a common occurrence. Well, besides her.
Her uncle and the stranger spoke briefly as she watched. Surely Onkel Eli would answer his questions and he’d go away.
But, no. They both turned to look at her now, then walked toward her. Inexplicably disturbed, Abby saw that the cop was a head taller than her uncle, broad shouldered, and moved with a confident, purposeful stride. The short sleeves of the moss green uniform shirt exposed strong brown forearms dusted with hair bleached almost blond. As he approached, she realized he had to be six foot four or taller. And she was a little bit embarrassed to notice what large hands he had, too.
She ought to get up, she realized, but knew the process would be awkward. She hated the idea of being on her hands and knees in front of this man. So she stayed put, squinting against the sun as she gazed up at them.
“Onkel?”
“Ja, niece, this is Sheriff Caleb Tanner. He has come to see you.”
“To see me?” How strange.
“That’s right.” The sheriff crouched to be closer to her level, the fabric of his black uniform trousers pulling tight over powerful muscles. Resting an elbow on his thigh, he held out the other hand to her.
Feeling reluctant, she let him engulf and gently squeeze her hand.
“I’m sure Sheriff Tanner would like a cup of coffee and a slice of your aenti’s schnitz pie, ja?”
It almost sounded good, despite the nausea that returned unpredictably. Abby knew her aunt and uncle were dismayed by her scant appetite.
The sheriff smiled, momentarily brightening hazel eyes. He extended his hand again. “Let me help you up?”
She hesitated, but finally mumbled, “Thank you,” and once again felt his grip close around her fingers. As he rose, he easily pulled her to her feet. She ended up disturbingly close to his big body and took a hasty step back. Her cheeks burned, and she tried to convince herself she’d gotten too much sun.
The three of them walked in together, using the front door because it was closest. Or perhaps because the sheriff was, if not a stranger to her aunt and uncle, an auslander, an outsider, for sure. Family and friends used the back door.
Abby would have hurried if she could, knowing what a mess she must be. Strubly, in Deitsch. Disheveled. Her apron was askew, hair tumbling out of the bun, and when she lifted a hand to her head, she realized her kapp had slid back. Then, of course, she must have bits of grass in her hair and on her skirts.
Once inside, she mumbled, “Excuse me for a minute,” and hustled for the downstairs bathroom. A small mirror hung there, allowing members of the household to check to be sure their hair was smooth, or kapps and bonnets in the proper position. Indeed, she had to pick blades of grass out of her hair, which she finger-combed and reanchored before settling the filmy white kapp back on her head, leaving the ties dangling. She made a face at herself, dismayed by still pink cheeks.
By the time she reached the kitchen, Onkel Eli and the sheriff were both digging into huge pieces of schnitz pie, made from dried apples. The sheriff paused when he saw her, a forkful halfway to his mouth. His eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze swept over her, head to foot and back up again, bringing renewed warmth to her cheeks.
Her aunt spoke to her in Deitsch. “Sit, Abby. You must eat, too. Hot water I have on for tea. Eat yourself full, and no nonsense about you not being hungry. You hear me?” She slid a plate in front of Abby as she sat beside Onkel Eli.
“I hear you,” Abby said meekly, in English.
Sheriff Tanner looked amused. Had he understood the Deitsch? Abby wondered.
“Your sergeant called me,” he said. “Asked me to make sure you’re doing okay. He was worried that they’d let you out of the hospital too soon.”
“With family, she’s better off,” Aenti said fiercely.
“Yes, I have no doubt.”
This smile for her aunt transformed an astonishingly handsome face that had first seemed grim to Abby. He had high cheekbones, a strong jaw already showing a hint of brown stubble, a thin nose that might have a tiny crook, as if it had been broken at some time, and a mouth Abby had trouble taking her eyes from.
“Who wouldn’t rather lie in the sun than a hospital bed?” he added.
“It did feel good,” Abby admitted. She took a small bite, seeing Aenti Nancy’s nod of satisfaction. Once she’d chewed and swallowed, Abby met his eyes. “How did Sergeant Donahue choose you?” If he heard some sharpness, she didn’t care.
“We knew each other years ago. I was with KCPD before I became sheriff here. Mike is sure I must be bored.”
“Maybe he’s right, if you had enough time on your hands to drive out here to see whether I was in dire straits or up and walking.”
Her uncle’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t say anything. The sheriff’s twitched, too.
“I like to get out and drive around my county,” he said mildly. “Say hello to people. Haven’t spoken to Eli in a while.”
That might all be true. Abby didn’t even know why she was bristling. And being rude.
No, she knew, all right. She’d reacted to him instantly in a way she never had to any man. It made her uncomfortable.