Faithful to Laura (2 page)

He wasn’t like the other Amish men she had known all her life. His handsome smile, the all-consuming way he looked at her, as if she were his treasure. He always seemed to know what to do to make her happy. What to say to make her feel cherished
.

“I love you, Laura.”

Then he began to laugh. His voice seemed to come from above her, and she looked up. High in the dim recesses of the barn, he braced himself against the rafters, clutching a small steel box to his chest. A box she recognized immediately—the one that held her parents’ life savings
.

“Mark?”

The image of his face blurred as a haze of smoke drifted between them. Her breath came in gasps, and the smoke stung her eyes. She turned, panicked, trying to find a way out
.

But out of where? The barn was shrinking to a fraction of its size, smaller and smaller. The rafters vanished, and Mark with them
.

She started to run, stumbled, and tripped. A body lay unconscious at her feet
.

Adam Otto
.

How did Adam get here? Where was she? She caught a glimpse of a door, ran to it, and yanked on the doorknob. Locked
.

The scent of gasoline made her stomach lurch. She rushed to the window and put her hand on the latch. But before she could open it and call out for help, Mark’s face appeared at the windowpane. His lips twisted in a sneer that chilled her heart
.

“You’re a fool, Laura. A stupid, gullible fool.”

He held something in his hand. Flames shot from the top of it. He took a step back, raised his arm, and threw
.

“Mark!” she cried out. “Nee!”

Laura tried to shield her face, but it was too late. Shards of glass tore into her skin. Cutting. Burning. Smoke choked her throat
.

When she pulled her hands away from her face, her fingers were covered with blood
.

“Laura!”

Hands gripped her shoulders. The smoke cleared; the searing pain in her face subsided.

“Mark?”

“Laura, it’s Adam.”

She blinked and came to with a sharp October breeze slicing through her thin nightgown. It was nearly dawn. The pale gray light revealed a pile of ashes where Emma’s grandfather’s workshop used to be.

“Are you okay? I was in Emma’s barn feeding the horses, and I heard you scream—”

Exposed and vulnerable in her nightdress, Laura pulled away and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m fine.”

“You’re shivering.” Adam took off his coat and put it around her shoulders.

Embarrassment heated her face. Being caught outside in her nightgown was bad enough. Even worse was the lingering fear the nightmare left behind. The terrifying dreams were coming every night, and now she had sleepwalked to the place where the attack had happened. Memories slammed into her, taking her back to that horrible day, making it seem as if it were happening all over again.

She touched her hand to her cheek, felt the fine ridges of the now-healing scars. It was
real
.

“It’s not a
gut
idea for you to be out here.”

Laura looked at Adam Otto, the Shetlers’ next-door neighbor. Saw the understanding in his eyes. Mark had attacked him too. But he was healing. His hair was growing out, and he could hide his scar with his hat. He had the ability to move past the damage Mark King had caused him and the Shetler family.

She looked at the ash heap again.

Mark was gone, but his lies and sneers and jeering laughter remained, burrowing deep into her subconscious, coming to the surface in her dreams.

What a fool she had been!

Shame wrapped around her heart, a razor-sharp strand of barbed wire, and despite the fact that the scars were healing and the ashes had grown cold, she doubted that she’d ever be free or whole again.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Laura fought the urge to cringe as Leona Shetler’s clear, pale eyes questioned her. Leona was a kind soul who had welcomed Laura into the home she shared with her granddaughter Emma.

The old woman was wearing her Sunday clothes, complete with black bonnet, leaning on her ever-present cane. Emma was downstairs, also dressed in her best, and ready to go. But they weren’t going to church today. Instead, they were attending a wedding.

Laura’s hand went to her face. A wedding was the last place she wanted to be.

“If you’re fretting about an official invite, don’t give it a second thought. The Mullets will be happy to have you.”

Leona smiled, and the lines deepened at the corners of her eyes. Lines earned through seventy-five years of living.

The scarred lines on Laura’s face were Mark King’s parting gift.

“Maybe next time.”

Laura faced the bedroom window and looked outside. Adam was hitching his horse to a fine-looking buggy. Like Emma and Leona, he was also well dressed, with a black felt hat, slim black pants, black vest, and a crisp, white long-sleeved shirt.

Leona put her hand on Laura’s shoulder. “You can join us for this Sunday’s service, then.”

Her encouraging smile didn’t alter Laura’s mood. She wouldn’t be any more willing to attend church on Sunday than the wedding today. “
Ya
,” she replied, “Sunday service.”

“Ready to
geh
?” Emma called from downstairs.

“Ya.”
Despite her years, Leona’s voice rang strong. She peered over Laura’s shoulder and looked out the window as Adam climbed into the buggy. “I see Emma’s
yung mann
is ready too.”

Laura tried to summon a smile at Leona’s pleased tone. Although she hadn’t known the Shetlers long, they had instantly treated her like family. Emma and Adam were in love. Anyone could tell.

At least they’re happy
.

“I’d better hurry. Don’t want to keep them waiting.” Leona’s version of hurrying amounted to shuffling her feet across the wide plank floor while she balanced with her cane. Laura started to ask if she needed help, but she knew Leona would refuse. Laura understood about the need for independence.

She remained at the window after Leona left, watching as the two women walked to Adam’s buggy. He helped Leona into the backseat. Once they were all settled inside, they drove off, leaving Laura to wrestle with her thoughts.

She sat on the bed and looked around the room. It was a little larger, but quite similar to her simple, sparse bedroom at home in Tennessee.

Home
, she thought. Family. A job. A life. All she’d left behind. But she couldn’t go back to any of that. Not when she’d failed those who trusted her most.

Her nerves were taut as a bowstring. She got up and paced across the room, then back again.

Maybe a bath would help settle her down. In the bathroom she leaned over and drew the water, watching it fill the tub as she tried to push ugly thoughts away. She undressed, turned off the tap, then halted when she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror over the sink.

Spidery red scars crisscrossed her cheeks and forehead. A thicker one slashed across her chin. Her eyes weren’t damaged. The doctors called that lucky.

But she wasn’t lucky. Or blessed, as Leona and Emma would say. They insisted that the daily applications of vitamin E oil were helping the scars fade. But there were deeper scars, invisible ones.

No cosmetic treatments could heal a soul.

Laura slid into the warm water, letting it rise up to her chin, then pulled her head underneath. She could stay under. Breathe in the water, let it fill her lungs and drain her life. Then there would be no more scars. No more pain. No more hate growing like a thorny vine around her heart.

Her head pounded as she held her breath. Her lungs felt on fire. The instinct for survival thrummed its message in her pulse.
Breathe in! Breathe in!

Close to bursting, she sprang from the water, gasping for air. She put her hand on her chest and felt her heart racing beneath the wet skin. Salty tears mingled with the tepid bathwater.

She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t take her own life.

There would be no escape for her. No freedom, no sweet oblivion. The past would hold her in its clutches—and never let her go.

C
HAPTER
2

“I’ll admit I thought you and Mary Beth might end up together.”

Sawyer Thompson looked at Johnny Mullet in surprise. The wedding had ended a couple hours ago, and after helping with the outside cleanup, the two friends had remained in the backyard. “Why would you think that?”

Johnny shrugged and looked out onto the pasture in front of them. The Mullets’ three cows munched on the last remnants of fall grass. Soon it would all be brown stubble. “Just thought it would be nice to have you as a brother-in-law.”

Sawyer clapped Johnny on the shoulder. “In my mind, we’re already brothers.” He nodded toward the house, where Mary Beth and Christopher Shetler were still inside, along with other family members and friends from the community. “Besides, even if I thought of Mary Beth as more than a sister, I don’t think I would be much competition.”

“
Ya
. She’s been writing about Christopher in her diary for years.”

Sawyer’s brow lifted. “You knew that?”

Johnny faced him, grinning. “You didn’t think you were the only one who read her diary?” He laughed and faced the field again. “Although I just did it to get under her skin. Worked too. She didn’t talk to me for days. It was great. Finally, a break from all that chattering.”

Sawyer chuckled. For all his teasing, Johnny couldn’t fool him. He knew that Johnny loved his twin sister; the three of them had been inseparable since the first day they met five years ago.

At fourteen, Sawyer had run away from foster care and hidden out in an old run-down barn near the Mullets’ property. A lifetime ago, it seemed. He had found Mary Beth’s diary, and ultimately the friendship of the Mullet family.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Johnny said. “I like Christopher. He’s a
gut mann
.” He tilted his black hat a few inches off his forehead, revealing a shock of dark brown hair. “But it would have been great to have you as an official part of the
familye
.”

Sawyer gripped the fence and leaned back, smiling. It was nice to be wanted. To be a part of something. After his parents had died, he hadn’t thought that would ever happen again.