Her Forgotten Amish Past. Debby Giusti

the front of her dress. More blood than would have come from her head wound alone.

      “Gott help you, Zeke,” his aunt said with a shake of her head. “Trouble has found you again.”

      Thoughts of the explosion and subsequent fire flooded over him again. He had carried Irene from the drug dealer’s cabin and had tried to resuscitate her. The memory of her limp body brought the pain back anew.

      Giving his heart to an Englisch woman over two years ago had been his first mistake. He had made so many, but he was wiser now and would not be swayed by a new pretty face, even if she was Amish.

      For the last twenty-four months, he had found solace helping his aunt with the upkeep of her farm. Here in this idyllic mountain setting, he had holed up away from the world. He would not let anyone, even a woman in distress, disrupt his status quo and the tranquil existence he had created for himself.

      He sighed at his own foolishness, letting out a lungful of air. The stranger had already thrown his peaceful life into confusion.

       TWO

      The man was behind her. She heard his footfalls and his grunts and groans as he moved through the underbrush. Her heart pounded nearly out of her chest. She needed to run, but her legs were weighted down and wouldn’t move.

      She thrashed, trying to escape whatever held her back.

      A scream tore through the night.

      Hands grabbed her. She fought to free herself.

      “No!” she cried.

      “Wake up, dear. You are all right. No one will hurt you.”

      A woman’s voice. Not the man who ran after her. She thrashed again.

      A soft hand touched her cheek. “You need water. Sit up, dear, and drink.”

      Water?

      She blinked her eyes open to see an older woman with a warm gaze and raised brow.

      An oil lamp sat on a side table, casting the small room in shadow.

      “My name is Hattie. My nephew brought you here earlier this evening.”

      “Nephew?” Had he been the man chasing her?

      “Ezekiel found you wandering on one of the back roads. You collapsed. He was worried about your health and brought you home.”

      “I’m... I’m grateful.”

      “You must tell me your name so we can notify your family tomorrow. I am sure they are worried.”

      “My name?”

      The older woman nodded. “Yes, dear.”

      “Ah...” Her mind was blank. She rubbed her hand over her forehead. “I’m not sure.”

      The Amish woman stared down at her for a long moment, then offered a weak smile. “We will not worry about your name now. You can let me know when you do remember.”

      She reached for a glass of water on the side table. “Sit up, dear, and take a drink. You are thirsty, yah?”

      Her mouth was parched, like the desert sand. She raised on one elbow and sipped from the offered glass. The cool water soothed her throat.

      “Not too much too fast,” Hattie cautioned.

      A noise sounded in the hall. The two women turned and looked at the open doorway where a man stood, holding a lamp.

      He was tall, muscular and clean-shaven with a tangled mass of black hair that fell to his neck.

      “Do you need help, Hattie?”

      His voice was deep and caused her heart to pound all the more quickly.

      “My nephew Ezekiel who brought you here,” Hattie explained as an introduction.

      She peered around the older woman, trying to see him more clearly. “Thank—thank you, Zeke.”

      “If you are hungry, I could get something from the kitchen.”

      “Maybe later.”

      Hattie patted her hand. “Dawn will come soon enough. Rest now, child. I will wake you for breakfast.”

      She nodded and glanced again at the doorway, disappointed to find Ezekiel gone. Had she imagined him? Her mind was playing tricks on her so that she struggled to know what was real and what was not.

      Blood. She kept seeing blood.

      She took another sip from the offered glass and then reached for the older woman’s hand and held it tight.

      “Hattie, may I ask you a question?”

      “Certainly, dear.”

      She hesitated, unsure of what to ask when her mind was in such turmoil. Would Hattie think her foolish or, even worse, insane?

      The older woman leaned closer. “You have been through so much. Perhaps the question can wait until morning.”

      She shook her head, knowing she needed answers now, at this moment, so she could end the confusion that played through her mind.

      Hot tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them back and steeled her resolve. No matter what Hattie thought, she had to ask.

      “Who...who am I and why can’t I remember my name?”

      Zeke had not been able to sleep, not when a strange woman was in the house, a woman who Hattie said did not know her own name. He paced back and forth across the kitchen and then accepted the cup of coffee his aunt offered once the pot had finished brewing.

      “Instead of drinking coffee, Ezekiel, you should return to bed. Dawn will not find us for another few hours and there is nothing either of us can do until then.”

      He glanced down at the sweet woman who had provided not only a home but also acceptance when he needed it most. “I do not see you following your own advice, Hattie.”

      She chuckled. “Which means both of us are either dummkopfs or concerned about our guest.”

      “You are not a stupid person, although some have called me worse names. For this reason, we cannot get involved.”

      Hattie frowned. “What do you suggest we do? Throw the woman out with the dishwater?”

      He leaned against the counter. “I should not have brought her here.”

      “As if you would abandon a woman on the side of the road in the middle of the night. Do I know more about you, Ezekiel, than you know about yourself?”

      “I know that neither you nor I want our lives disturbed.”

      “Helping a person in need is more important than our peace and quiet.”

      He nodded. “You are right. Still, I worry.”

      “You worry because of what happened, but we learn from our mistakes. Some days I fear you learned too well.”

      “Meaning what?”

      “Meaning you hole up on this farm and venture into town late in the evening and take the long way home as if you are afraid to see anyone. You do not go with me to Sunday church or on visits to friends. You have not spoken to your father for over two years.”

      He glanced through the kitchen window at the darkness outside. “My father is busy being the bishop.”

      Hattie tugged at his arm. “Yah, he is a busy man, but he is still your father.”

      Zeke met her gaze. “A father who is disappointed with