Her Forgotten Amish Past Read online

  Courting? Becca glanced at Zeke and felt her cheeks burn. He too looked ill at ease and glanced down at his feet, then turned to pour more coffee into his cup.

  Hattie’s comment must have caused him distress. If his heart was still with Irene, he would want nothing to do with Becca.

  And what about her life? Had she been courted? Did she have a husband? Was that who had chased her through the woods?

  Tomorrow, when they searched the wooded area, they might find some new clue to her past. Going in daylight, even though it was dangerous, might provide the clues she needed to unlock her memory.

  “Caleb said the crew will be filming in town tomorrow,” Zeke told Hattie. “That is why he is stopping here to pick up the eggs and baked items.”

  After they ate and the dishes were washed and returned to the cupboard, she opened a chest in the corner of the living area and pulled out a lovely green dress. “Come here, Becca, I need to see about the hem.”

  “I’ll hold it up. You place a straight pin, Hattie, where the hem should be. I’ll do the sewing.”

  “Are you sure?” the Amish woman asked.

  “Of course. I’ve been sewing for years.”

  Zeke stared at her.

  She turned to look at him. “I remembered something.”

  He nodded. “You remembered sewing.”

  She smiled, and a surge of relief swept over her. “Maybe going to town and to the studio was good for me. Something must have triggered my memory.”

  “Time has passed,” Hattie said with a nod. “The trauma to your head is healing. This is gut.”

  Becca took the dress and the needle and thread Hattie handed her. She settled into a chair near one of the oil lamps and turned up the hem, and then started to stitch it in place.

  She glanced at Zeke and expectation stabbed her heart. If only this was how her life could be, sewing by the light of the oil lamp with Zeke nearby.

  * * *

  Zeke watched her sew, leaning into the ring of light around the side table, and thought of how his mother used to sew or read by the light of the oil lamp.

  Everything about Becca that he had seen so far indicated she was Amish. Which meant the feelings he had for her weren’t inappropriate.

  He let out a breath and settled into a chair near the wood-burning stove, enjoying its warmth and the inner glow he felt from sitting close to Becca.

  He glanced at Hattie’s Bible on the bookshelf. She read from it nightly and had worn the pages thin. Reaching out, he touched the leather cover, thinking back to when his mother was alive and the family would gather together in the evening to play checkers. Mamm would pop corn and the house would be filled with laughter. Before bed, his datt would read from Scripture, the verses chosen with care to provide a fitting end to a day of hard work and family togetherness.

  The long-forgotten memory brought warmth to his heart. Looking into the future, he thought of evenings shared in similar ways with Becca.

  “You are thinking of Irene.”

  Becca’s voice was almost a whisper.

  He glanced at her and raised his brow. “Why do you say that?”

  “The smile that tugged at your lips. Much was said about her today. Your mind is returning to what you both shared. It is a good thing, Ezekiel.”

  He did not understand nor appreciate Becca’s comments. His thoughts had not been on Irene. The way her life had ended was tragic and not one that brought smiles. Two years and he was still weighed down with the guilt.

  Frustrated by the past and not knowing what the future would hold, he rose from the chair. “You do not understand, Becca.”

  Her eyes widened and pain flashed from her gaze. “Did I say something wrong?”

  Without explanation, he climbed the stairs and headed to his room. The unlit oil lamp stood on his dresser, but he remained in darkness and stared outside into the night. The problem was Zeke and the mixed-up emotions he felt when he was around Becca.

  He needed to know more about her before he allowed this newcomer into his life. Would he ever learn who she was and where she had come from?

  * * *

  Becca’s heart was heavy when she climbed the stairs that night. She hung the hemmed green dress on a wall peg near the blue dress Hattie had washed and returned to Becca’s room earlier in the day.

  Sifting through the folds of blue material in the skirt, Becca found the large tear. Pulling out the swatch of fabric she had found on the path tonight, she held it up against the torn portion of the dress.

  The fabric matched perfectly.

  Becca’s heart was heavy. The path she had taken that fateful night had been from the studio, along the trail and then into the deep brush they would explore tomorrow.

  Zeke had acted strangely tonight, which troubled her and sapped her enthusiasm for uncovering any more clues to her past. What if her memory returned and brought with it the terrible reality of what had happened that night?

  Becca wasn’t ready to find out the truth about her past. Not now. Maybe tomorrow she would be stronger and able to handle whatever she would learn.

  Tonight, she needed to sleep without dreaming about a Montcliff Studio logo and a stained carpet and bloody knife. Tonight she wanted to dream about Ezekiel holding her in his arms.

  FOURTEEN

  Becca rose early the next morning, eager for the day to advance. The small revelation that she enjoyed sewing made her optimistic. Hattie had said the blow to her head was getting better and more of her memory would soon return.

  Excited about her progress, Becca slipped on the green dress, enjoying the feel of the crisp cotton. The color was a favorite.

  After pulling her hair into a bun and settling her kapp in place with hairpins, she raced downstairs, almost tripping over her feet.

  “Hattie,” she called. “I’m remembering more things.”

  “Wunderbar.” Hattie greeted her with open arms. The women hugged.

  “I told you not to worry,” the older woman assured Becca.

  She glanced out the window and saw Zeke in the barnyard.

  “Fetch the butter and milk,” Hattie requested. “We will eat soon. Zeke said he wants to box up the baked goods early to be ready for Caleb’s arrival.”

  “I’ll hurry.”

  Becca ran outside and waved to Zeke. He finished adding water to the trough for the horses and then approached Becca.

  “The dress suits you.” He smiled, and his eyes twinkled.

  “Guess what?” she said, finding it hard to hold back her excitement.

  He shook his head. “What?”

  “My memory is returning.”

  The smile left his face and worry flicked across his gaze. Evidently he didn’t share her exuberance.

  “What have you remembered?” he asked.

  “You don’t look happy for me.”

  “I am glad you have remembered some things, but I want to hear what you have learned.”

  She pointed at the dress. “Green is a favorite color.”

  He nodded. “And you’ve learned something else?”

  “That I enjoy sewing.”

  “You said that last night. Is there something new?”

  Her enthusiasm plummeted. “That’s all, but it’s exciting, Zeke.”

  He nodded. “Yah, of course, it is something gut to know about yourself. But I thought you had remembered more important things.”

  “I will,” she said with a forced smile. “Everything will come back to me.”

  She grabbed the milk and butter from the bucket filled with cool water and hurried toward the house. She wouldn’t let Zeke’s indifference temper her optimism. They might be only two small memories, but they were a start. More would come.

  At least she hoped they would.

  Before she went inside, she heard the
rumble of motor vehicles. The sound interrupted the peaceful stillness of the farm. Swallowing down the fear that grabbed her throat, Becca hurried into the kitchen. She stepped to the window and peered outside. A convoy of vehicles, all with the Montcliff Studio logo, drove past the farm and down the mountain.

  She shivered. If her mind would stop playing tricks on her, she might uncover the reason for her upset.

  After breakfast, Zeke boxed Hattie’s baked goods and stacked them on the table. Becca washed the morning dishes and tidied the kitchen, then helped box the eggs so they wouldn’t break on the drive to town.

  “I want to meet Caleb,” Becca told Zeke once all the eggs had been packed in the protective containers.

  “Are you sure that is wise?” he asked.

  “If Caleb recognizes me, then I will learn more about who I am. I need information, and Caleb might provide what I need.”

  “He has a good heart,” Hattie said. “I do not think Caleb would do you harm.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Becca looked around the kitchen. “Do we have everything?”

  “Yah, by packing the baked items in boxes, all of them should fit in Caleb’s sports car.” Zeke turned and smiled at his aunt. “The movie people will enjoy your baking, Hattie.”

  “This is my hope,” Hattie said with a nod of her head. “If this first order pleases, I will make whatever more the cook needs.”

  “I can help you.” Becca stepped closer.

  “And I am glad for your help. After the gut job you did hemming the green dress, I will pull out fabric. We can start quilting.”

  Quilting?

  The word brought to mind a small lap covering pieced with various shades of green fabric. Instinctively, Becca knew it was her quilt, one she had made when she first learned how to sew. The realization brought another insight into her past.

  “My grandmother taught me how to quilt,” she shared. “I remember a small quilt that was my first attempt. It was made of pieced green fabric.”

  “Oh, Becca, you have remembered something new.” Hattie patted her hand and smiled with satisfaction. “Your mind is working again.”

  “If only it would work harder.” Grateful though Becca was to learn about the quilt, she wanted the cloud to lift from her memory completely so she knew everything about her life.

  Hattie’s eyes twinkled as she turned to Zeke. “Soon we will learn that Becca lives on a farm not far from the mountain. She has an Amish mother and father and brothers and sisters who love her.”

  Becca wanted to share Hattie’s optimism, but four men had chased after her. There was more to her past than a loving family. Someone wanted to do her harm. If only she knew why.

  * * *

  Caleb pulled into the drive and stepped from his sports car as Zeke and Hattie hurried outside to greet him. Zeke stretched out his hand, and the two men shook.

  “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” Hattie asked.

  “Not today. But thanks. I need to get to town.”

  “Everything is boxed and ready for you.”

  Zeke ushered Caleb into the kitchen and introduced Becca. “She is visiting Hattie and offered to help.”

  Caleb nodded a greeting, but did not seem to recognize Becca. Zeke noticed relief in her gaze.

  “The cook will love getting all the baked items,” Caleb said. “And the movie crew will enjoy them, as well.”

  Working together, they grabbed boxes and loaded the items in Caleb’s car.

  Once again, the sound of a vehicle driving at a high rate of speed caused them to glance at the road.

  Not a car but a black limousine.

  “That’s the producer,” Caleb said as the limo raced past the farm and down the mountain.

  “The man who left to find the movie star?” Zeke asked.

  “That’s right.” Caleb nodded. “He couldn’t find her. Vanessa’s husband is claiming something has happened to his wife.”

  “But they had been separated,” Zeke said.

  “That’s what she told everyone here. I’m not sure the husband thought the separation was permanent. From what people have said, Vanessa Harrington was fickle and flighty. No telling where she is now.”

  Zeke glanced at Becca. Her face was drawn. Was she thinking of the bloodstained carpet?

  She stepped toward Caleb. “From what Zeke has told me, the movie studio only has a few Amish men working in the carpentry department. What about housekeeping? Are Amish women employed in that capacity?”

  “That’s contracted through a cleaning service,” Caleb said. “Are you looking for a job?”

  “If I stay in the area. I can cook and clean.”

  “Housekeeping might have an opening. I’ll find out who you can contact and let you know.”

  “Perhaps someone has not showed up for work recently,” she said. “I could fill in. Will you let me know if a position becomes available or if there is need for a part-time replacement?”

  “I’ll be happy to ask in town today. If I find out anything, I’ll stop by here on my way back to the studio tonight.”

  Zeke walked Caleb out to his car and watched as he turned onto the main road. Had Becca remembered something more last night than her ability to sew? Had she remembered cleaning the studio? If so, that could be the reason she was concerned about the trellis carpet. Knowing about the bloodstains on the carpet could be the reason she had been chased through the woods.

  * * *

  After Zeke had tended the animals and completed a number of the other chores he had neglected since Becca had come into his life, he hurried into the house for lunch. The kitchen smelled of apple pie and fresh baked bread.

  “More food for the movie studio?” he asked.

  Hattie smiled. “And some for my favorite nephew. Wash for lunch. Today we will have cold cuts and cheese with the warm bread.”

  “Das smeckt mir gut,” he said with a laugh.

  “You are easy to please. By the way, Becca helped me with the baking. She is a gem.”

  Zeke poured a cup of coffee and turned at the sound of her coming down the stairs. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes bright. His chest tightened, and he almost spilled the coffee as he focused his attention on her.

  “You have worked hard this morning,” she said, flitting across the kitchen. “I am sure you’re hungry, Ezekiel.”

  He liked the way she said his name. In fact, he liked everything about Becca.

  “You wanted to explore the trail we were on last night,” he said. “The day is cold but clear. I checked the almanac and snow is forecast over the next few days.”

  “For this, I am not ready,” Hattie said as she sliced bread and placed it on the table.

  “I have chopped enough wood for the stove and there is food to carry us through the winter.” Zeke glanced through the window to the woodshed. “Snow will not be a problem.”

  Hattie laughed. “Perhaps not for us but the Englischers at the movie studio might have trouble navigating the icy mountain roads, especially if they do not slow down.”

  Becca filled a glass with water and placed it where she was sitting, then slipped into the seat as Hattie and Zeke did the same. “Exploring the trail would please me, Zeke. Again, I am grateful for your help.”

  His face warmed, but not from the coffee. He bowed his head to give thanks for the food they were about to eat, but also for the lovely woman sitting across from him.

  Keep her safe, Gott, he silently added before he glanced up and caught her staring at him. For the longest moment, she held his gaze. Then Hattie started talking about a quilting the following day at the widow Shrock’s home.

  She patted Becca’s hand. “I want you to go with me, dear.”

  “Would that be wise, Hattie?”

  “Sometimes information can be learned as the ladies sew. Besides, I do
not think the ladies in my quilting circle are the people who searched for you. We are a senior group, mostly widows. But we will decide tomorrow. A lot can change in a day.”

  Zeke knew how quickly things could change. As much as he wanted Becca to stay on the farm where she would be safe, he knew the importance of finding out about her past. In some ways, she seemed impatient, which concerned him.

  Rushing too quickly into a situation could be dangerous. A lesson Zeke had learned. When he had found Irene, he had insisted she return home with him. In hindsight, he should have given her more time. Patience had never been his strength.

  “Did you say something?” Becca asked once lunch was over and they were in the buggy heading up the mountain.

  He had been silent since they had left the farm. “I regret what happened last night at the studio, Becca. It was not wise of us to go there.”

  “No harm was done.”

  “Still, I am concerned about your safety,” he said truthfully.

  “We will not go to the studio today, Zeke. You do not need to worry.”

  “But we must be careful and stay together. If I say we leave, you must climb into the buggy. Do you understand?”

  “Yah, I understand.” She glanced at the clear sky. “We saw the buzzards flying overhead that first day. What was the reason for them?”

  He shrugged. “A dying animal perhaps. Buzzards clean debris. It could have been anything.”

  “My dress had blood on it the night I arrived.”

  “You had a large lump on your head that was bleeding.”

  “Is it my own blood that I dream about?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “What else do you dream about?”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “You will not tell me?” he asked.

  “I dream of running in the woods.”

  “There is something else.”

  “Blood on a carpet, as I mentioned last night.”