Her Forgotten Amish Past Read online

  “Yah.” Becca opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. “I will come home from town with information about my past.”

  At least, that was Becca’s hope. Who was she and who had been chasing after her? She needed answers to both questions and she needed those answers now.

  * * *

  Zeke harnessed Sophie to the buggy and led her to the back porch. The kitchen door opened, and an Amish lad stepped outside. Mentally Zeke knew who was wearing the black trousers held up with suspenders, white shirt and overcoat, but even then, he stared for a long moment as if confused by what he saw.

  Becca widened her eyes. “The clothing does not work. I can see it in your gaze.” She turned to flee back inside.

  “Wait.” Zeke reached to grab her arm, but she slipped past him.

  “Becca,” he called again.

  She stopped and glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “My expression,” he quickly continued, “has nothing to do with your clothing, but with my own inability to put what I see together with who I know you to be.”

  He dropped his hand and paused again before adding, “Hattie was right. You will not be recognized.”

  Becca smiled weakly. “This is good, yah?”

  He nodded. “Yah.”

  Not being recognized would be safer for Becca, but seeing her dressed in men’s clothing confused Zeke even more. What was wrong with him? Ever since he had spotted her staggering in the middle of the road, his normally calm demeanor had been in turmoil. Was it because she was a woman or was it because she was this particular woman, with green eyes and a hint of coral in her cheeks, who caused him so much unease?

  She drew closer and looked up as if somewhat perplexed. “How am I to climb into the buggy?”

  Zeke wanted to laugh at her question and the cute way she pouted her mouth as she pondered her problem. Knowing better than to embarrass her, he kept his thoughts to himself and said instead, “You must learn now. When we are in town, I will not be able to help you lest someone wonder why an Amish boy cannot heft himself into the front seat of a buggy.”

  He pointed to the metal step. “Place one foot here and then swing up onto the seat.”

  She grabbed the front of the buggy for support, placed her foot where he had indicated and gracefully raised herself onto the seat.

  “Gut,” he said with a nod once she was settled.

  “You will sit next to me?” she asked.

  “Yah, but you must remember you are a boy, especially if buggies pass us on the road. Glance down or to the side and keep your hat lowered. Amish children do not speak unless spoken to, which might be difficult for you.”

  She wrinkled her brow and turned her mouth into a coy grin. “Are you saying I talk a lot?”

  “Not at all, but most women enjoy making conversation. A boy would not be as gregarious.”

  “A boy would be inquisitive and ask questions that would be posed one after the other.”

  Zeke’s lips twitched. “You are forcing me to recall my youth. Yah, I had a million questions. It is how a boy learns.”

  “And I’m sure your father answered each question with patience and understanding.”

  “My mother answered my questions.” He climbed into the buggy and sat next to her.

  “And your father?” Becca pressed.

  “My datt believed children should speak only when called upon to do so, which is something you, as an Amish lad, should remember.” Zeke grabbed the reins and encouraged Sophie forward.

  “Your dad sounds like a hard taskmaster,” Becca said once they were on the main road.

  “No more so than other fathers. As you know, the man is the head of the Amish family.”

  “True, but it sounds as if your datt took that role to heart.” She hesitated before asking, “Is that why you’re living here on the mountain with your aunt?”

  “Hattie needs help with her farm,” he offered as explanation, in hopes of satisfying her curiosity without having to delve into his own past.

  “She could hire help,” Becca mused.

  “Yah, but a family takes care of their own.”

  “What about your parents, Zeke? Who helps them?”

  How could he explain his estrangement with his father without mentioning Irene?

  “My mamm died a few years ago,” he replied, hoping it would suffice.

  “And your father?”

  “He works his own farm.”

  Zeke glanced at Becca, wondering how many more questions she would pose. She was as inquisitive as a dozen young lads, only there was nothing boyish about the arch of her brow or the wistful longing he read in her gaze.

  She glanced at the passing countryside. “I wish I could remember my parents.”

  He hated hearing the pain in her voice.

  Zeke flicked the reins, needing to think of something other than the woman sitting next to him.

  What would Becca think of him if he revealed his own past? Some things were better left unsaid.

  Except his memory would not let him forget how he had followed Irene to Petersville only to find her living with a man twice her age, a man who had a meth lab in his cabin and a wad of money in his wallet. A man who had stolen her heart and her common sense just as she had done to Zeke.

  He had tried to save her from the burning cabin and had almost gotten killed in his attempt. The explosion played over in his mind, making him shudder.

  He turned away from Becca and glanced over his shoulder, hoping she did not see the regret that colored his life. Had he really loved Irene or was he like all young men, running after a pretty girl who made him think not with his head but with his heart?

  “Are you all right?” Becca touched his arm, the gesture warm with concern.

  He shrugged out of her hold and turned his gaze back to the road. “It is nothing.”

  She folded her hands on her lap. “You’re sure?”

  He clenched his jaw and flicked the reins again, speeding the mare along the paved roadway. “I am sure.”

  The roar of a vehicle sounded behind them. Zeke tightened his hold on the reins just as a van raced around the buggy, going much too fast on the mountain road.

  Becca gasped and reached for Zeke’s arm as if fearing the passing vehicle’s momentum would throw her from the buggy.

  The logo on the side of the van read Montcliff Studio. The vehicle accelerated and continued on the road.

  The mare balked.

  “Easy there, girl. Easy.”

  Sophie shook her mane and swished her tail, letting Zeke know her upset.

  “Was that the man who stopped by the farm yesterday?” Becca asked.

  He rubbed her hand, hoping to calm her unease. “I did not see the driver’s face. The man in the van who stopped by the farm yesterday is named Larry Landers. He works for the movie studio and wanted to shoot some scenes on Hattie’s property.”

  “I overheard from the kitchen.”

  “Then you heard him claim the money would be good. He did not understand that some things cannot be bought.”

  Not love, not happiness, not a father’s respect.

  He thought of the man who was chasing Becca. What if he was her husband?

  Zeke flicked the reins and wondered how things had gotten so convoluted. His status quo, as the Englisch would say, was in upheaval. Zeke could feel it in the core of his being. Nothing was in the right order. Not his life. Not his common sense. And not his heart. In fact, his heart more than anything was sending signals he did not understand.

  He would not make a mistake about a woman again. Even a pretty woman whose need tugged at his heart.

  SIX

  Rounding a bend in the road, Zeke’s heart pounded a warning. He tugged on the reins, pulling Sophie to a stop.

  “Get in the rear
of the buggy, Becca.”

  She glanced at the cars and vans forming a roadblock. A number of men, all wearing jackets bearing the Montcliff Studio logo, had stopped a car heading to town.

  “Should we turn around?” she asked.

  “Perhaps.” But just as Zeke was ready to nudge Sophie into the oncoming lane so they could head back to Hattie’s house, a man at the roadblock motioned them forward.

  “Pretend you are that young Amish boy.”

  Zeke knew from Becca’s expression that she was worried. So was he.

  As soon as she crawled into the rear, he flicked the reins ever so slightly.

  “I do not see the man who chased me yesterday morning,” Becca said, her voice little more than a whisper.

  “That is gut. We will trust this is just a minor annoyance and not a problem.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Yah, I hope that, as well.”

  He pulled in a deep breath to calm himself. Zeke did not want to appear nervous, not when Becca’s safety could be in jeopardy.

  The car ahead of them had been waved through the roadblock. The vehicle accelerated and headed toward town. If only Zeke’s buggy could also be waved through.

  A burly man motioned him to a line in the road and then held up his hand, signaling he should halt.

  Zeke tugged on the reins. Sophie stopped and shook her head. Perhaps the mare sensed his tension.

  The road guard stepped closer. “Where you headed?”

  “Is something wrong?” Zeke asked.

  The man narrowed his gaze. “Just checking a few cars.”

  “And the reason for the check?”

  The guy shook his head, visibly annoyed. “You Amish struggle with authority.”

  “I did not know Montcliff Studios controlled the public roadway.”

  “We’ve got a multimillion-dollar facility. We want to protect access to our property.”

  “Something has been stolen?”

  The guy peered into the back of the buggy, stared for a long moment at Becca and then nodded to Zeke.

  “Have a good day.”

  Returning the nod, Zeke encouraged the mare forward. Once the buggy had passed through the maze of cars, he encouraged Sophie to pick up the pace.

  Becca climbed back into the front seat. “Why did you give him a hard time?”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “You questioned what was going on. I thought he was going to search the buggy.”

  “And what would he have found?” Zeke asked.

  “He would have found me.” Her eyes widened as she jammed her thumb against her chest.

  “Had I not questioned his right to be stopping vehicles and buggies, he might have been more aggressive.”

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  “But we got through the roadblock, Becca. Everything went well.”

  She shifted away from him as if exasperated, or perhaps she was still frightened by the unexpected roadblock. Truth be known, Zeke had been nervous, as well.

  Why were the people from the movie studio stopping those who traveled along the roadway? Was it because the movie star had gone missing? Or had someone else disappeared?

  He glanced at Becca. Finding a woman in the middle of the road not far from where a missing movie star had worked and then to have people searching the area seemed more than a coincidence. Add the fact that one, if not two, men were running after Becca and the situation became even more convoluted.

  Was Becca an Amish woman who had left her family or was she somehow involved with Montcliff Studio? If so, did she know anything about the movie star who had disappeared?

  * * *

  Becca remained silent as Ezekiel encouraged Sophie along the mountain road. She couldn’t stop thinking about the roadblock and the two times she had been chased through the woods.

  The cool afternoon air tugged at the felt hat she wore. Shivering, she yanked it down on her head, then wrapped the coat across her chest and held it tight at her neck.

  Zeke glanced her way. “You are cold?”

  “The breeze feels good and the air is fresh and clear.”

  “No one recognized you, Becca.”

  She breathed deeply, grateful for Zeke’s support.

  “Do you have any memory of the movie studio?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “What would an Amish woman do there?”

  “Perhaps you worked in the kitchen.”

  “Maybe. I could wash dishes and peel potatoes.”

  He smiled. “You do not give yourself enough credit. You could run the kitchen.”

  “I’m glad you have faith in me.” She thought for a moment and then added, “Or maybe I live on an Amish farm in the area and have nothing to do with the studio.”

  “A movie star went missing, Becca, which is probably the reason for the roadblock.”

  She nodded, mulling over what he had said. Surely she had nothing to do with Montcliff Studio, yet something about the studio logo tugged at her memory.

  “How did the studio end up here on Amish Mountain?” she asked.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Probably someone vacationed in the area. The Englisch rent rooms in town. The Amish community is starting to become a tourist attraction.”

  “But a movie studio in Georgia seems strange.”

  “The state gave the motion picture industry a cut on their taxes. Anything to bring in jobs and grow business.”

  “Which is not what the Amish want.”

  “Yah, the Amish want their own land and to live without the interference of government. Some people find that difficult to accept.”

  He turned to face her. “Does this sound strange to you?”

  “Why would it? It is the Amish way.”

  He smiled. Becca could not remember where she came from, but she thought like the Amish. If only she would learn more about her past.

  “People gawk as they drive by the farm,” Zeke continued to explain. “Perhaps they have never seen the Amish. I heard the studio needed mountainous terrain for a film. They shot a short documentary here first and then entered into a contract to rent the land.”

  “No doubt, from an Englischer,” Becca added.

  “An Englischer who had been Amish. Levi Gingerich left the Amish way and took his children with him, as well. He owns a sizable portion of land on the mountain, just as my father does.”

  “Yet your father doesn’t live here.”

  “He lives closer to town and is now the bishop of the local district. He owns Hattie’s farm and more acreage that is currently unsettled.”

  “Will your father pass the land on to you someday?”

  Zeke shrugged. “I have a brother who would be his first choice.”

  “Older or younger?”

  “Older, but he and his wife moved away from the area.”

  “Does the youngest son usually take care of the parents?” she asked.

  “That sometimes happens, but my father does not want my help.”

  Something Becca doubted, but she remained silent and turned to study the scenery.

  Dense forests of thick pine trees covered the land on each side of the road interspersed with barren hardwoods that had lost their leaves. Some still lay scattered on the ground, holding a portion of their fall colors.

  The memory of running through the woods returned with a jolt. She wrapped her arms across her chest, recalling the footfalls of not only the man chasing her in the night but also the man who had come after her the next morning.

  “Your memory will return,” Zeke stated, as if he understood her struggle.

  A farmhouse appeared in the distance. “This is the Troyer land, Becca. We will stop here before going to Willkommen.”

  She swallowed down the concern
that filled her. “What if they recognize me?”

  “They will see an Amish youth. Not an Amish woman. I will ask if they know of anyone missing in their family while you remain in the buggy.”

  Becca straightened her shoulders and peered into the distance.

  “Slouch down,” Zeke said.

  “What?”

  “Put your elbows on your knees and lean forward as a boy would do.”

  She followed his prompting, but kept her eyes focused on the farmhouse. Three young boys stood on the porch. Two older boys stepped from the barn as the buggy came to a stop.

  Zeke hopped to the ground and turned as a man called to him from the nearby paddock.

  “Is it Ezekiel Hochstetler?” the man asked jovially in greeting. “Wie gehtes?”

  “Gut, Willie,” Zeke responded. “And how is the family?”

  “The children grow like weeds. Ida has coffee if you care for a cup.”

  “Not today but thank you.”

  “What brings you down the mountain?”

  “I am going to town for supplies. We heard talk that a woman named Troyer had gone missing. Hattie wanted me to check to see if she could be your kin?”

  Willie Troyer was medium height and stocky in build. He wiped a thick hand over his square jaw and peered into the distance for a long moment as if thinking if anyone had gone missing. “This I have not heard. Surely, we would know of anyone in the family. Was the woman in need?”

  Zeke shrugged. “I know nothing more. News travels. Sometimes it changes as it goes.”

  “Like the game the children play,” Willie said with a nod. “They whisper a statement from child to child that ends up different at the end. It is the same as we grow older. Only what starts as news, ends as gossip.”

  “I will tell Hattie that your family is well.”

  “Have you seen your father, Zeke?”

  “He is busy.”

  “The years pass. Do not let them slip away before it is too late.”

  “He knows where to find me, Willie, yet I appreciate your concern.”

  Zeke turned back to the buggy.

  “Who’s the boy?” the farmer asked.

  Becca’s heart lurched. She glanced at the children as if she had not heard the question.