Finding Mercy. Karen Harper

close as they headed toward town three miles away. She didn’t know how he felt, but she felt good just to be with him.

      “Want to handle the reins?” she asked.

      “Always,” he said with a tight smile as he took them from her. Their fingers touched. His were strong and warm, smooth too, not like a farmer’s or a carpenter’s. She showed him how to hold the reins, wrap them a bit around his hand.

      “I guess ‘always’ means more than it sounds like,” she said. “You were an important man—are still—if you can get things settled at home, right?”

      “Some would think so. Also an ignorant man. I got taken in and in over my head. Now I’m trying to make amends. Do the right thing, as they say.”

      “I admire you for that. I know all about making mistakes. I almost married a man who couldn’t give up his drinking. It was a blessing I had the courage to pull out, even though I’d said yes. Hold the right rein a little tighter, not all that slack.”

      “You need a rearview mirror.”

      “Some buggies have them. I just never saw the need—until earlier today.”

      “Being followed like that is one of my worst fears.”

      “I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through or still have to face. But maybe what happened to me today gives me a little hint of how hard it’s been for you. Do you think a lot about what you’ve left behind—what you’re missing—besides your car to impress your corporation?”

      “You are a smart and very persuasive woman, Ella Lantz. If I were my enemies, I’d send someone like you to get me to confess all.”

      “You’re teasing.”

      “Yes and no. All right, I know a lot about you, so let’s play something like twenty questions—or ten. You tell me things you think you know about the other me, the real me. As long as you’re correct, you can ask another question.”

      He smiled at her, a bit prideful, she thought, but she was grateful to have the chance to learn more about him.

      “You’re from a big city, but not one in Ohio,” she said.

      “That’s two questions, clever Ella, but yes and yes.”

      “You’re not married.”

      “How did you guess that? I could hardly wear a wedding ring around here, not an Amish man.”

      “Because on your left ring finger, there is not a hint of white circle, but on your right hand, where you took off a ring, there is.”

      “I think the sheriff and that new deputy should be asking you for help.”

      “Don’t change the subject or think flattery will get you anywhere, not with the Amish,” she told him. “For us, cooperation, just like we have now, and not competition is the best way to live.”

      “Which means we are worlds apart. You should see the dog-eat-dog environment I came from. And, you know, this stay here has really been lucky for me.”

      “Not lucky—blessed. Blessed by God. Okay, here’s another guess. You believe in God but you hardly ever think about Him anymore, because you’ve been too busy. You think you can solve your problems your way.”

      He turned to look at her as they clip-clopped along. He’d been turning his head away a lot and leaning out to look behind them. “I’d say that’s fair,” he admitted. “Until everything blew up in my face and what I was facing was the ruin of my dreams and maybe even death.”

      She gripped his left wrist. “I know. That changes things, doesn’t it? Then you need something and someone to lean on. Oh, I have my questions too about life’s troubles, but I never think that the Creator of the world—of these hills and fields and my lavender—doesn’t have the answers. Last night I saw you go outside and look up at the stars, even though you were hobbling. You felt the strength and power out there in the vastness, didn’t you?”

      “Sure. Yeah, I believe that. But I also know we’ve got to use what we’ve been given—gifts and time and talents—to do our best and accomplish something in life. I’ve said it before, but I mean this—I really admire your people and your family, so close and supportive, despite some pretty strict rules.”

      “We’re almost to town. One more guess about you. Your company had something to do with the Chinese—maybe you’ve even been to China—but you’re worried they might be after you now.”

      His eyes widened in surprise. His nostrils flared; he sniffed sharply, but he only shook his head and didn’t answer. As they headed into the fringe of town with more intersections, she took the reins back from him.

      “So much for that game,” he said. “I don’t want you involved in any way.”

      “But by coming along today and telling my father you were willing to help keep an eye on me, you are involved, so I am too. All right, you don’t want to say more, that’s fine. So, whatever big city you are from, this is lovely, little Homestead,” she said with a sweep of one hand at Main Street.

      She pointed out the Dutch Farm Table Restaurant and told him the pizzeria was partway down the block and the two fast-food places were at the very end. Pulling Fern into the hitching post in front of the sheriff’s office, she gestured here and there. “That’s the volunteer fire department, the string of shops, Kwik Stop food store where we usually get our groceries, the pharmacy and hardware store. And that’s the newspaper office, down there near the only traffic light in town.”

      “A one-traffic-light town! Never thought I’d live in one, though I did see one once in Scotland.”

      “Oops, something personal slipped out. You’d better guard your mouth, Mr. Modern Andrew Lantz.”

      The corners of his taut mouth crimped in an almost-smile as he intently studied her mouth. She wet her lips with her tongue. His eyes widened, then he turned abruptly away. “And my heart,” she was amazed to overhear him whisper as he grabbed his crutch and climbed carefully down to tie Fern to the hitching post.