Read Online An Amish Christmas by Patricia Davids - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patricia Davids
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the wedding.”
Ruby and Mary exchanged puzzled glances. The two women were in their late twenties or early thirties. They were clearly related to Nettie. The women shared the same bright blue eyes, apple-red cheeks and blond hair although Nettie’s was streaked with silver. They all wore plain dresses with white caps and white aprons.
The teenager, Sally, had red hair and freckles, but she wasn’t smiling in welcome the way the others were. Her eyes held a frightened, guarded look. She said, “I will go get Katie.”
Spinning around, she opened a door and rushed up the stairs beyond.
He waited, not taking his eyes off the stairwell. After an eternity, he heard footsteps coming down. The woman who entered the kitchen was dressed in the same Amish fashion as the others, but her hair was black as coal. She came toward him with a perplexed expression in her dark eyes. He held his breath, not daring to hope.
Stopping in front of him, she said, “Emma Wadler mentioned that she had met you at the inn, Mr. Doe. I’m sorry I can’t be of any help. I don’t recognize you.”
He could barely swallow past the lump in his throat. A vicious headache, brought on by his frustration, sapped his strength. He managed to say, “I’m sorry we interrupted your afternoon. Thank you for your time.”
Nettie spoke up, “Would you like some tea? I have the kettle on.”
He shook his head, eager to escape before the pounding in his temple made him sick.
Katie said, “Elam is in his workshop. Perhaps he has met you before.”
After looking at John closely, Karen said, “Come with me. I will show you the way.”
He followed her outside into the fresh, cool air. Only then did he realize how hot the kitchen had been. Breathing deeply, he struggled to master the pain in his head.
“Take slow deep breaths,” Karen said, standing at his side.
“I’m okay. How did you know?” If he kept his eyes closed the pain wasn’t as bad.
“My mother used to get migraines. Do they happen to you often?” she asked gently.
“Two or three times since I woke up in the hospital.”
She led him toward a small bench set beneath the bare gnarled branches of an apple tree. “Sit here. I will fetch Elam.”
John was in no shape to argue. Leaning back against the rough bark of the tree, he let his mind go blank. Slowly, the pain receded.
“Hey, buddy, think fast.”
John’s eyes popped open as he threw up his hands to catch the apple being thrown at him. Only there was none. He was alone. He closed his eyes again and rebuilt the scene in his mind.
The tree overhead was lush with green leaves and heavy with fruit. Yellow apples. He was sitting on the cool grass with his back against the trunk of the tree. A hot breeze flowed over his skin, making him glad of the shade. Birds were singing nearby. An occasional raucous cry sounded from among them. He heard the drone of insects, then the pad of footsteps approaching.
Close by, a woman’s voice, low and sweet said, “Here is my geils-mann loafing under a tree.”
He tried to turn his head to see her face, but found himself staring at his boots, instead. The harder he tried to see her, the more rapidly the scene faded.
“John? John, this is Elam Sutter.”
Opening his eyes, John saw Karen standing in front of him. Blinking hard, he looked around. The tree branches were bare. The lawn was brown and curled in winter sleep. Behind Karen, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark coat and black Amish hat stood regarding him intently.
Sharp bitterness lanced through John at the loss of his brief summer memory. His identity had been so close he could almost touch it and now it was gone.
How often could his mind be torn in two this way without finally ripping into pieces?
Chapter Six
D isappointment drained John’s strength. The memory was gone. He couldn’t get it back, but Karen and her friend were still waiting for him to speak.
He forced himself to rise and extended his hand to Elam.
Ruby and Mary exchanged puzzled glances. The two women were in their late twenties or early thirties. They were clearly related to Nettie. The women shared the same bright blue eyes, apple-red cheeks and blond hair although Nettie’s was streaked with silver. They all wore plain dresses with white caps and white aprons.
The teenager, Sally, had red hair and freckles, but she wasn’t smiling in welcome the way the others were. Her eyes held a frightened, guarded look. She said, “I will go get Katie.”
Spinning around, she opened a door and rushed up the stairs beyond.
He waited, not taking his eyes off the stairwell. After an eternity, he heard footsteps coming down. The woman who entered the kitchen was dressed in the same Amish fashion as the others, but her hair was black as coal. She came toward him with a perplexed expression in her dark eyes. He held his breath, not daring to hope.
Stopping in front of him, she said, “Emma Wadler mentioned that she had met you at the inn, Mr. Doe. I’m sorry I can’t be of any help. I don’t recognize you.”
He could barely swallow past the lump in his throat. A vicious headache, brought on by his frustration, sapped his strength. He managed to say, “I’m sorry we interrupted your afternoon. Thank you for your time.”
Nettie spoke up, “Would you like some tea? I have the kettle on.”
He shook his head, eager to escape before the pounding in his temple made him sick.
Katie said, “Elam is in his workshop. Perhaps he has met you before.”
After looking at John closely, Karen said, “Come with me. I will show you the way.”
He followed her outside into the fresh, cool air. Only then did he realize how hot the kitchen had been. Breathing deeply, he struggled to master the pain in his head.
“Take slow deep breaths,” Karen said, standing at his side.
“I’m okay. How did you know?” If he kept his eyes closed the pain wasn’t as bad.
“My mother used to get migraines. Do they happen to you often?” she asked gently.
“Two or three times since I woke up in the hospital.”
She led him toward a small bench set beneath the bare gnarled branches of an apple tree. “Sit here. I will fetch Elam.”
John was in no shape to argue. Leaning back against the rough bark of the tree, he let his mind go blank. Slowly, the pain receded.
“Hey, buddy, think fast.”
John’s eyes popped open as he threw up his hands to catch the apple being thrown at him. Only there was none. He was alone. He closed his eyes again and rebuilt the scene in his mind.
The tree overhead was lush with green leaves and heavy with fruit. Yellow apples. He was sitting on the cool grass with his back against the trunk of the tree. A hot breeze flowed over his skin, making him glad of the shade. Birds were singing nearby. An occasional raucous cry sounded from among them. He heard the drone of insects, then the pad of footsteps approaching.
Close by, a woman’s voice, low and sweet said, “Here is my geils-mann loafing under a tree.”
He tried to turn his head to see her face, but found himself staring at his boots, instead. The harder he tried to see her, the more rapidly the scene faded.
“John? John, this is Elam Sutter.”
Opening his eyes, John saw Karen standing in front of him. Blinking hard, he looked around. The tree branches were bare. The lawn was brown and curled in winter sleep. Behind Karen, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark coat and black Amish hat stood regarding him intently.
Sharp bitterness lanced through John at the loss of his brief summer memory. His identity had been so close he could almost touch it and now it was gone.
How often could his mind be torn in two this way without finally ripping into pieces?
Chapter Six
D isappointment drained John’s strength. The memory was gone. He couldn’t get it back, but Karen and her friend were still waiting for him to speak.
He forced himself to rise and extended his hand to Elam.
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