An Amish Man of Ice Mountain (The Amish of Ice Mountain Series Book 2) (5 page)

Chapter Eight

The last vestiges of the pain medicine cleared the edge of his consciousness and he came fully awake to the odd sensation that there was something important he should remember. But Priscilla was urging him into his light blue shirt, and his side ached something awful. He remembered the old farmer helping her get him into the station wagon and then the brutal drive to the hospital. He even remembered the brusque doctor sticking a needle in his arm and starting on his bandaging before the full effect of the drug kicked in. But something else niggled at his mind, then drifted away.

He stood up from the bed with some encouragement from the motherly nurse and winced when Priscilla offered him his right suspender.

“I’ll only use the one.
Danki
.”

She nodded, ducking her head, and he barely got a glimpse of her face, but something about her posture made him sense that she was nervous.

“Is everything all right, Priscilla?” he asked quietly when she handed him his coat.

She looked up at him, her beautiful blue eyes luminous, her pupils dilated
.
He shook his head
.I could get lost in those eyes . . . like swimming in warm twin pools that envelop and slicken and speak of wet mysteries and secret places. I am losing my mind . . . maybe it’s the drug. I hope it’s the drug . . .

“Let’s worry about you, all right?” she asked, and he nodded dutifully, feeling foolish for his thoughts.

“Thank you for saving me, Joseph,” Hollie chirped between loud sucks on a purple Popsicle. She sat on a nearby chair, her thin legs swinging, and he had to smile.

“You’re welcome, little one.”

The nurse bustled over to Priscilla. “Here’s a prescription for pain medicine, if he needs it. Now, y’all take care.” A buzzer sounded from down the hall and she hurried out.

Priscilla gave him his hat and he tried to lift his arm to put it on, but she took it back at his obvious grimace and stretched to place it on his head.

“Danki,”
he said, noting that she quickly took a step away from him.

“Gaern gscheh,”
she muttered.

He smiled in surprise and she shrugged. “I still remember a little Penn Dutch from my mother.”

“You sound like Joseph, Mommy . . . How come?” Hollie asked.

“It’s only a few words, Hollie, in another type of language. Now finish up. We’ve got to get back to the inn. Mommy’s got to go to work.”

Joseph glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to see it was after noon.

“Well, let’s stop somewhere and get you something to eat before your shift,” he suggested. “I know I’m starving.”

“Me too. Mommy, please?”

Priscilla sighed aloud. “All right. I think the hospital has a cafeteria.”

Joseph found that walking was not exactly comfortable, but he followed gladly in Priscilla’s wake with Hollie clinging to his left hand.

They entered the small but bright cafeteria as sunlight poured in from large windows, highlighting Priscilla’s bright head.
Her hair looks so soft . . .
Joseph mused. Then remembrance slammed into him and he knew instinctively that he’d touched her hair, stroked her throat, kissed her mouth . . . He stopped dead still.

“Joseph, what’s wrong?” Hollie tugged on his arm, then let go.

Priscilla turned around and searched his face and their eyes locked. He saw the tumult of emotions in the blue depths and knew his thoughts were true.

“Dear Gott—I . . .” He choked out the words, watching her face flame in acknowledgment, and was vaguely aware that Hollie had darted off in the direction of the food. “Priscilla, I’m so sorry . . . I didn’t mean . . .”
Monster! I’m an unholy monster—she’s been through heaven knows what, and there I was touching . . .

She stepped near him and shook her head. “Of course you didn’t mean anything. You were—drugged and I, well, I . . .”

“Mommy!” Hollie cried loudly, breaking the moment. Joseph looked where the little girl pointed to a bulletin board on the cafeteria wall. “Mommy, look! It’s your picture.”

Joseph saw Priscilla’s face drain of all color and for a scary moment, he thought she might faint.

“Oh God,” she whispered, and started to walk toward Hollie.

Joseph followed slowly, watching the tension in every line of her slight frame. He’d tracked wounded animals on the mountain and had the eerie feeling now that he was following a trail of misery that could end in nothing good.

Priscilla caught her daughter’s pointing hand and pulled her close. Then she went to the bulletin board and ripped the homemade flyer with her picture from the corkboard. She crumpled the paper in her free, damp hand and yanked Hollie in the direction of the nearest exit.

“Mommy, wait! I’m hungry!”

“Hush, Hollie. We have to go.”

“Where are you going?”

Priscilla stopped as Joseph’s voice broke into her panicked thoughts. She stared up at him, his worried visage seeming to fade in and out before her eyes.

“Priscilla?”

She whirled and focused on the way they’d come in, ignoring Hollie’s increasing wails.

“Priscilla, wait.” Joseph got in front of her and she stubbornly moved to go around him, but he was equally fast. “
Sei se gut
. . . let me help you.”

She shook her head mutely, trying to ignore his palpable concern and watched him pull some dollar bills from his pocket. “Hollie,” he said low, breaking into the child’s sobs. He crouched down in front of her daughter, despite his injured ribs. “Be a big girl and go and get what you want to eat. I need to talk to your
mamm
for a minute, all right?”

“Yay!” Hollie ran off and Priscilla blindly scrambled into a plastic chair, aware that he sank into a seat beside her.

“You don’t understand,” she muttered, gripping the edge of the table with her free hand.

“I want to.” He reached for her hand beneath the table and gently pulled the crumpled paper from her fingertips. She let him, too tired to care for a moment.
All of my plans, again . . . gone. Why?

She watched Joseph spread open the paper, smoothing it against the artificial grain of the table. He read for a brief moment, then looked at her squarely, his handsome face taut and white, but somehow reassuring at the same time.

“How long have you been running?” he asked.

She covered her face with her hands, then dropped them again, shrugging. “Nearly eight months. This time—I thought maybe . . .”

She watched him stare down at the words; then he looked at her again, his unusual eyes more green than gold now. “I have to know, Priscilla . . . are you still married?”

She would have laughed if she were not so near tears
. Of course you want to know that, because you’re Amisch and you’re innocent while I’m—

“Priscilla?”

She shook her head. “No, Joseph. We were divorced almost two years ago, but Heath has never—he’s never been able to accept it, or the fact that I received full custody of Hollie—as you can see.” She eyed the flyer bitterly from an upside-down angle—it always said the same thing . . .

H
ELP ME FIND MY BELOVED WIFE
. M
ISSING WITH YOUNG CHILD
. LARGE REWARD.

C
ALL
H
EATH
S
T
. C
LAIR
A
T
. . .

“Has he ever found you?”

Priscilla dropped her gaze.
Ah, this man and his dark hair and beautiful mouth and probing mind . . .
“Once. He kept me locked in a room for four days without food, kept Hollie from me. I got away—found Hollie. We’ve been running ever since . . .”

Joseph drew a deep breath, then laid his hands flat on the table, as if in decision. “Look, do you want to be free of all of this running and hiding?”

“Of course,” she said wearily.

He folded the flyer and put it in his pants pocket. “All right. Then come with me. I know a place . . . a world away . . . and he’ll never find you or Hollie there, ever.”

Priscilla knew it was more than a gamble, but she also understood the clear truth in Joseph’s eyes. Something old and good resonated in her soul and the words were on her lips before she knew what she’d said.

“I’ll go.”

Chapter Nine

“Dang it all, honey. If I’d known you were homeless with a little girl, I would’ve given you my own bed to sleep in.” Mary Malizza stood gaping at the little waitress she’d hired, after listening to her explain why she was leaving.

The pretty little thing sure didn’t need to run off with another fella, though Mary knew that the
Amisch
brothers held a moral code that many of her patrons did not. Still . . .

“He’s not forcing you in any way, is he?”

“Who? Joseph?” Priscilla shook her head vehemently. “Not at all. I’m tired of running, to tell the truth, and my mama was
Amisch
. He’s just giving me a chance . . .”

“A chance at what? Don’t you wanna know what his intentions are?”

She watched the girl’s thin shoulders shake with a mirthless laugh. “I trust him. He doesn’t have any intentions, and I don’t want any, really.”

Mary paced the confines of her office and could tell that the kid was itching to be gone. “Hey, I’m gonna give you some cash. You keep it for an emergency and you can consider it a loan, because I know you’re gonna be all huffy about it.”

“I really don’t need—”

“Hush!” Mary snapped, pulling on her big glasses and rooting in the desk drawer. “I keep a little petty cash around. Now, here’s an envelope. It’s five hundred dollars.”

Priscilla stared at her, clearly speechless.

“If you woulda told me the truth, I could have done more for you sooner. Remember that when you go. Tell the truth. Not all folks are as wacky as that ex-husband of yours.”

The girl nodded and Mary sniffed and rose to come around the desk. She enfolded Priscilla’s small frame against her robust bosom and squeezed long and hard.
Poor kid . . . probably hasn’t had a hug in years.

After the embrace, she gave Priscilla’s shoulder a firm shake. “Now you take care, you hear? And take care of that young’un.”

Priscilla nodded and left, and Mary stared at her office ceiling while she counted to ten, determined not to cry.

 

 

“Are you out of your mind?” Edward demanded.

Joseph concentrated on folding a shirt and put it in his satchel, despite the resulting ache in his side. “I’ll only be gone long enough to ask Bishop Umble to give Priscilla and Hollie safety—sanctuary—for a time.”

“
Jah
, right . . . and then you’re going to worry about her, and then you’re not going to be able to leave her, and then you’ll obsess over her, because you have chosen to fall in love with her—a runaway woman who probably wouldn’t know the truth from a—”

His bruder’s words penetrated, and Joseph spun, grasping Edward by his shirt front.

“Shut up.” He punctuated the words with hard shakes, ignoring the pain in his ribs.

Edward rolled his eyes. “What are you gonna do, Joseph, Mr. Perfect
Amischer
? Beat me up for telling the truth?”

Joseph realized that he’d laid hands on his
bruder
, laid hands on another in anger for the first time in his life, and his arms went slack in an instant. He dropped his hands and sank down onto the bed. “Edward . . . I’m sorry. Forgive me. I don’t know why I . . .”

“Forget it and listen to me.”

Joseph lifted his eyes as Edward tugged down his shirt. “Look, Joe, it’s only that I don’t want to see you get hurt. And I’m the one who owes you an apology. I don’t know Priscilla or what she’s been through, but my point is that you don’t know either. And I’m running out of time here to convince you before I go.”

Joseph studied Edward’s serious expression with a frown. “What did you say? Go? Where?”

Edward sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. “Joseph, I’ve been offered a better job with the rigs and I’m going to take it. But it’s in Texas.”

“What? How am I supposed to . . .” Joseph felt the weight of his bruder’s strong arm across his shoulders for an instant.

“You—are not supposed to do anything but go home. I don’t need you to watch over me, and whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve gotten yourself tangled with a woman.”

Joseph straightened his shoulders. “I am not tangled.”

“Worse than a trout with one of Daed’s blue slicker flies, Joe.”

Joseph felt a faint smile come to his lips at Edward’s analogy. “At least not that bad.”

“Worse.” Edward laughed.

Joseph nodded slowly. “What about Sarah?”

“I’ve written to her already. She knows I’m planning on going, and I can make twice the money in half the time. Don’t worry. I’ll not abandon the woman I courted with intent to marry.”

Joseph felt his world whirl at his bruder’s seemingly calm and mature words
. Maybe Edward is grown up and I’m the one who’s really got things to figure out.

A tentative knock sounded on the door and Joseph rose to answer it, expecting Priscilla.

“I’ll get it, Joe. Finish packing.”

Joseph glanced briefly into his brother’s eyes. “Hey . . . I’ll miss you.”

Edward ducked his head, then smiled. “I think you’ll find you’re too busy to do much of that . . .” He flung open the door with a flourish. Joseph stared at Priscilla’s beautiful, pale face as she held Hollie, and he knew his little
bruder
was probably more than right.

“Are we going on another adventure, Mommy?” Hollie’s voice was plaintive on the night air coming in through the open windows of the station wagon.

Priscilla tightened her grip on the wheel and resisted the urge to glance sideways at Joseph. She’d stopped at a small pharmacy about an hour from the rigs and had gotten his pain medicine prescription filled. Now he appeared to be drowsing in the passenger seat, but she had the strange feeling that he was listening to every word.

“We’re going to some place special with Joseph.”

“Where?” Hollie demanded, clearly needing some sleep.

“I don’t know.”
I don’t know and I’m trusting this man with my life, my child, my future . . .

“But where?” Hollie whined.

Priscilla sighed aloud in exasperation.

Joseph sat up a bit straighter in his seat and opened his eyes. “We’re going to the place where I grew up—it’s a mountain. Ice Mountain is its name. It’s peaceful—real pretty.”

“Will we have to stay in the car?”

Priscilla caught the smile that lifted the side of his handsome mouth. “
Nee
, in fact, there’s no road to the top of the mountain. We’ll have to leave the car at the bottom with an
Englisch
friend of mine.”

“Oh.” Hollie yawned. “What’s
Eng—lisch
?”

“
Ach
, well, like you and your
mamm
—someone who’s not
Amisch
.”

“Okay.”

Priscilla glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her daughter’s head slowly nod to one side against the door.

“Whew, she’s asleep at last, I think,” Priscilla whispered after a moment. “Sometimes I get tired . . .” She stopped.
Am I going to admit to this man how tired I actually do feel at times?
She felt tears prick the backs of her eyelids and hastily swiped a hand across her face, telling herself she didn’t want anything to affect her driving.

“Hey.” The rich timbre of his husky voice soothed her. “Are you all right? I wish I could offer to drive . . . or we could stop at a hotel soon.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks. So, do we really have to hike to your community?”

He relaxed back in the seat. “Yep, and Mr. Ellis will take good care of the car, I’m sure.”

“How can you be sure? He doesn’t even know we’re coming.” She couldn’t keep the faint note of anxiety out of her voice.

“Don’t worry,” he soothed.

Don’t worry
. . . She wondered what he’d do if she gave in to the sudden hysterical laughter that bubbled behind her tight lips.

“What will your bishop say? How do you know anyone will accept us and what if—”

“Priscilla, all will be well. Derr Herr goes before us.”

It was easy for him to speak of God with such confidence, she thought ruefully.
He probably hasn’t ever been hurt badly.
But she was able to lay aside her fears for the moment despite her lingering doubts, and concentrated on the dark stretch of road in front of them.

Joseph stared out the window at the dark trees passing in a blur. He’d had to speak with confidence to Priscilla; there was nothing else to do. If his sister hadn’t managed to get an
Englischer
into the community, he’d have no true point of reference as to whether or not Bishop Umble would allow a divorced woman and her child such access. But he decided he’d figure something else out if this didn’t work.
What had Edward said? Tangled
. . .

“So, your—uh—Heath—was . . .”

“Is,” she corrected succinctly.

“I know it’s most likely hard for you to imagine, but sometimes people who seem like they are doing one thing with their lives—maybe a kind thing—are really up to something else.”

The thought of Amanda drifted across his mind.
I was seemingly kind, wanting to help, and then I . . .

“You have that look on your face,” Priscilla interjected. “I can tell, even in the dark.”

“What look?”

“Like you’re someplace faraway—maybe a complicated place.”

“Jah.”
He sighed and then was silent.

After a moment, he saw her shrug. “You don’t owe me anything, Joseph. Even this—mountain you’re taking us to. You can back out. I could take you somewhere nearby and you could—”

“Priscilla,
sei se gut
. I’ve told you, all will be well.”

She nodded and he felt like the scum on a pond when he suddenly recalled kissing her in the hospital. Somehow, all of those pulse-pounding moments had been lost in the tumult since Hollie had seen the bulletin board. He swallowed hard now and gazed at her pale profile in the shifting shadows.

“Priscilla?”

“Hmm?”

“Back at the hospital, when I was drugged—I touched you. I broke my word not to touch you.” He turned away toward the passenger window, then closed his eyes tight. “Don’t worry. It won’t ever happen again.”