Lancaster County Target. Kit Wilkinson

waved away her husband’s words. “Speaking of your life back in New York, Dr. Jamison...you’re not married, are you?”

      “No. I’m not.” Hannah’s tone had sounded a slight bit chastising. “Is that a problem?”

      “Of course not,” Abby said, glaring at Hannah so that she would not continue with the same topic. “It’s just a common topic around here. With the Amish. Especially among the women.”

      Hannah looked indignant. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just getting to know our guest. What brings you here to Willow Trace, Dr. Jamison?”

      Blake had just shoved a large forkful of meat into his mouth and couldn’t answer.

      “Blake has family here, don’t you, Blake?” Abby smiled. She’d purposely caught him off guard. Now he would have to answer what she’d been trying to figure out all day—why was Dr. Jamison at Fairview Hospital?

      * * *

      Blake swallowed down the lump of stew before he could answer. He’d almost rather talk about his pathetic love life than about why he was in Lancaster. “Maybe. I said that maybe I have a family connection in Lancaster.”

      There was clearly another question bubbling inside of Abigail, but a knock at the door sounded before she could get it out.

      Eli excused himself from the table to get the door. Hannah hopped up to take care of the dishes. Blake and Abby tried to follow but Hannah stopped them.

      “Go on into the other room.” Hannah shooed them away like little flies. “Both of you. Sounds like we have visitors. I’ll see to the kitchen. Go on. Go relax and visit. You’ve both done enough today.”

      Blake followed Abby into the living area, which, like the rest of the home, was tastefully but simply decorated. The walls were undecorated, simply painted a shade of light blue. All of the big windows were covered with green shades and simple white curtains. There were a few dim lamps set on handmade wooden tables. A sofa and several lightly upholstered chairs were placed about in an orderly circle.

      Eli stoked the fire while his newly arrived guests sat together on the couch—a young couple holding a sleeping baby while their older child stood against his father. The boy stared wide-eyed at Blake and Abby as they entered the room.

      “Mary!” Abigail rushed forward. She hugged the young mother and swept the sleeping child from her arms. “Little Levi. Oh, isn’t he just beautiful? And, Stephen, you are so grown up—sehr grose.”

      The little boy straightened up from his position against his father, standing tall and proud.

      “Jonathan and Mary, this is Blake Jamsion—a doctor at the hospital. Blake, this is the Zook family. Mary and I have been friends all our lives. Her parents own the bed-and-breakfast where you are staying.”

      Blake shook hands with the couple, admiring their Amish dress, which matched Eli’s and Hannah’s exactly—trousers, suspenders and simply cut shirts for the men, plain blue dresses and black aprons for the women. Little Stephen wore a miniature version of the grown men’s clothing. He whispered something to his father, then took off out the front door.

      “He likes to visit all of Eli’s stock. We don’t have the cattle Eli has here. He’s fascinated by it,” Jonathan explained. He had the same peculiar, square beard as Eli did, only around the jawline. No mustache. A strange and unique look. Blake couldn’t remember seeing anything like it before.

      Mary’s hair, like Hannah’s, was tucked up in a white Kapp. He glanced at Abigail and her long blond braid, maybe a little glad it wasn’t hidden under a Kapp. He wondered what it might look like loose and free-flowing.

      “We heard you had some trouble up at the hospital,” Jonathan said.

      “Ja, you could say that.” Abby spun around with the tiny infant. “How did you hear?”

      The couple explained how the news had spread from the hospital to another couple from the church to their neighbors. “We didn’t know if Eli had heard, so we thought we should come over. We knew he’d want to know about his sister. We should have figured you’d be here telling him yourself.”

      “I’m glad you came. It’s good to see you and the children. Just what I needed to get my mind off this afternoon.”

      Some conversation passed in Pennsylvania Dutch. Blake sat back and listened to the lilting, rolling language. He didn’t know if the talk was about him or the happenings at the hospital, but either way the language relaxed him. Called to him. Could it be that Amish blood ran through his veins? If he hadn’t been put up for adoption, could he have grown up in a room like this instead of in a penthouse that overlooked Central Park?

      “Well, at least you didn’t go to the bishop.” Abby broke back into English.

      “Oh, but we did.” Mary smiled. “We passed by there on the way here. He hadn’t heard. He is very concerned. He would have been over to see you himself if he had not already had some other church business to attend to tonight. He assumed your brother would be looking after you as soon as he heard the news. But you should expect the bishop in the morning.”

      “Danki.”

      Even Blake could tell Abby was not happy about this news. She was not pleased that this bishop person knew her business.

      “So, who is the bishop? Is he an elder of the church?” Blake asked.

      Eli and Jonathan smiled at him. They looked at Abby. Everyone seemed to be holding back a laugh.

      Except for Abigail. She turned, a sad frown under her big blue eyes. “The bishop is the leader of the Ordnung. The leader of the Amish church. He’s also my father.”

      There was a second of silence over the room then the front door burst open like a bomb had blown it off its hinges. Little Stephen came running inside. He was pale and out of breath, and his hat was missing.

      “What is it, Stephen?” his mother asked.

      Her son ran into her arms, letting loose an onslaught of tears he’d bravely held back until that moment. He told his parents what had happened. Again, Blake couldn’t understand the Amish language. But he watched as the rest of the people in the room reacted grimly to the boy’s tale.

      Whatever he said, it was not happy news. Several times they all looked at Abigail, who’d grown pale. As the boy finished, Abby put a hand to her head as if it ached worse than ever.

      Eli stood and put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. He nodded to Jonathan, and the two men headed for the door.

      “Is something wrong? Can I help?” Blake stood with the other men.

      Eli turned back, his expression bleak. “Someone is in the stable. He grabbed little Stephen and told him to go back to the house. He told him to tell Miss Miller that he is watching.”