Love Inspired Suspense September 2015 #1 Read online

  Samuel spent far too much time in his room. What was he doing?

  “I’ll get Samuel to settle Buttercup for the night.” Rebecca stopped by the porch steps, a little unnerved that Professor Burke seemed insistent on seeing her to the door. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.” She gripped the railing tighter.

  “I’ll have Samuel take you back to your truck,” she said, eager to go inside.

  The professor glanced down the road. “No, I can jog back. It’s not that far.”

  “But you must be cold, too.” She noticed the bottom of his wet pants. The leather on his shoes was discolored from the water. “Those don’t look like running shoes.”

  He shrugged. “Actually, I would like to talk to Samuel before I left.”

  Rebecca bowed her bonneted head and looked up at him shyly. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why are we so fascinating to you?” She grabbed the blanket and pulled it tighter around her shoulders.

  “The Amish?”

  She nodded.

  The professor ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. “My parents grew up in an Amish community. They were Amish.”

  She jerked her head back. “Really? How interesting. They left the Amish community.” It was more a statement than a question.

  “It was my father’s idea and since my mother loved him, she followed him.” He lifted his eyes, the moonlight glinting in them, making it hard to read the emotion there. “My father always joked, calling them fence jumpers. My mother always bristled at the comment.” There was something sad about his tone.

  “So, Professor, is this why you study the Amish?”

  He smiled that warm familiar smile. “Partly.” His answer came out clipped and she felt as if she had stepped out of bounds. “I think it’s time you called me Jake. We’ve spent a lot of time together.”

  A smile tugged on her lips, but her feelings of fondness were fleeting. An empty road stretched behind him. And beyond that, her Amish neighbors.

  The line of connection snapped as reality slammed into her. The last thing she needed was the neighbors chatting about poor widowed Rebecca Fisher entertaining the English professor. Her Amish neighbors would be requesting not to sit in her section at the diner in a silent form of protest. A shunning of sorts. The Amish’s unique way of guilting a person back into the fold. Back into following the church’s rules.

  “I’d rather call you Professor.” The ever-present uneasiness tightened its grip on her chest. Would she ever be able to move past the shame her deceased husband had created? It was a physical pain she doubted she’d ever be rid of. If only she and Samuel could find acceptance in their own community. If only the Amish could dig deep into their vast well of forgiveness and bestow it on her.

  “I don’t mean to cause you any grief,” Jake said, tilting his head. There was a kindness in his eyes she wasn’t used to seeing in a man. Willard had been cruel.

  She blinked at him. Flo was right. He was pleasing to the eye. Inwardly, she shook the thought away. She had no business thinking in those terms.

  “I’m not looking for your friendship.” She didn’t try to hide the exhaustion in her voice. “My coming to your office the other night was misguided. I was desperate. I thought you could help me understand what’s going on with my son.” Rebecca tapped the railing, a nervous gesture. “But I suppose that’s something I have to work out with Samuel.”

  The professor put his hand on the railing near hers. For the briefest moment, she thought he was going to cover her hand with his, warming it. She ignored the disappointment that swelled inside her when he didn’t.

  She had experienced a riot of emotions tonight and suddenly she felt extremely tired. And cold. So very cold.

  “I can respect that,” the professor said, a gentleness to his voice. “However, I’d still like to talk to Samuel tonight before I go.”

  Rebecca glanced toward the door of her house. “I don’t know.” Her meddling seemed to only cause more problems.

  The professor bowed his head, then looked up and met her gaze. Apprehension settled in his eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think Samuel might have been in the car that ran your buggy off the road.”

  The blanket fell from her shoulders and her body swayed. “Neh.”

  *

  Rebecca’s face grew white and her lower lip trembled. Jake grabbed her elbow to steady her. “Let’s get you inside. Where it’s warm.”

  She yanked away her elbow. “Neh, I’m fine.” He understood her anger, but he wasn’t going to let it stop him.

  “What’s…what’s going on?” Samuel stepped onto the wide porch and rushed to his mother’s side. “Are you okay?”

  She spun around and pointed at her son. “Go inside, Samuel. Professor Burke is leaving.”

  Then Rebecca straightened her shoulders. “Please.” She softened her tone. “Go inside. It’s been a long night.”

  Samuel’s gaze implored her. “Did something happen?”

  “Do you know what happened?” Jake watched the young man closely. In the year since he’d been meeting with Samuel, the boy had gone from quiet and reserved to angry and fearful. He had assumed Samuel’s attitude change had to do with his friend Elmer’s death. However, as the harassment on the farm and toward Rebecca continued, Jake began to wonder if something else was at play.

  Samuel looked everywhere but at Jake.

  “Do you know something?” Jake asked again.

  Samuel ran his hand up and down one suspender and stared at his boots for a moment too long. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Samuel turned to his mother. “What happened? Did you have an accident?” His gaze ran the length of his mother’s dress, no doubt searching for assurances that she was all right.

  “A car spooked Buttercup. I was thrown from the buggy.”

  Samuel shed his defensiveness and a worried expression crossed his features. He looked much younger than his eighteen years. His gaze drifted to the street, then he seemed to school his expression. “You shouldn’t have been out this late.” He glanced around; renewed fear pinched his mouth. “Where’re Katie and Grace?”

  Rebecca touched her son’s arm. “They’re fine. They stayed with Aenti Gloria.”

  “Were you in the car that spooked the horse?” Jake asked, carefully studying Samuel’s expression.

  Worry settled in Samuel’s wide eyes. He pushed his straw hat back farther on his head. “No. No, I wasn’t,” he said adamantly.

  Rebecca stepped closer to her son. “I know you weren’t in the car with them, but you need to be careful. You know the community is still watching us after—”

  “After my dat.” Samuel pulled away from his mother. “Don’t you think I know that?” His eyes narrowed. “Is that all you care about—what other people think?” He held out his open palm. “You were tossed in a ditch and yet you’re still yelling at me for riding in a car.

  “The elders look the other way when the youngie drive. It’s not fair that I’d be treated any differently.” Samuel stormed toward the house, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

  “We are different,” Rebecca said, her voice quiet. “We are. We have to try harder.”

  Jake resisted the urge to reach out and touch Rebecca’s arm in a gesture of comfort but he feared it wouldn’t be accepted.

  “What ever happened to forgiveness? Why can’t they forgive and move on?” Samuel pounded his fist on the door.

  Rebecca climbed a step and stopped. “I’m saddened that some people can’t seem to forgive. It will take time.”

  “Were you dropped off without incident tonight?” Jake had to ask, bringing the conversation full circle. Last time he saw Samuel, he was hopping into a car with his friends.

  “Yes, Uri dropped me off. He’s a good driver, mem.” Samuel took off his hat and scratched his head, leaving it in unkempt tufts.

  “Uri was driving?”

  “Yah, what does it
matter?” Samuel crossed his arms over his chest, not waiting for an answer. “It doesn’t help when you and the professor are asking questions and snooping around.” His voice grew harsh. “I’ll never be accepted by my friends. Professor Burke here accused us of selling drugs.”

  “You what? I…” Rebecca lifted a shaky hand to her lips.

  Jake glanced at Rebecca. “We need to talk this through.” The look of distrust in her eyes tore at his heart. “But for now, I need you to trust me. Please go inside. Warm up.”

  Rebecca slowly nodded, the defeat evident on her face. Samuel turned to go with her, too, when Jake called out, “Hold up.”

  The young man slowly turned around but didn’t say anything. Rebecca went inside and closed the door.

  “Your mother is worried about you.”

  “I don’t know why.”

  “You’re an adult. I’m not sharing anything that you confided in me. So, if you need to talk…”

  Jake’s mind flashed to Samuel’s friend Elmer, the young Amish man who had been in a lot of pain and had turned to drugs. Jake had pushed Elmer to go to his parents with his issues. A memory stabbed his gut. Maybe if Jake hadn’t forced Elmer, the young man would still be walking God’s green earth.

  “I don’t have anything to tell you.” Samuel shuffled his feet and kept sneaking glances over his shoulder.

  “If there’s something going on, you can tell me. You’re not alone. I can help you.”

  Samuel laughed, a harsh sound void of humor.

  “You’re just interested in your research. A good research paper. That’s all we are to you. You don’t really care.”

  Jake furrowed his brow. Was that what Samuel really thought? “I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

  “Night, Professor Burke.” Samuel disappeared inside.

  Jake stood on the bottom step for a long moment. He turned toward the house when he heard the door handle click. Rebecca stood there, looking hesitant. “I’ll ask Samuel to take you to your truck.”

  Jake shook his head slowly. “I’ll be fine.”

  Rebecca nodded and closed the door. Jake strode down the drive to the road, to his truck parked down the way. He prayed the fresh air would clear his mind.

  FIVE

  Rebecca stood at the window and watched the professor until the darkness swallowed up his profile as he jogged toward his truck parked down the street. She hated to think what she would have done if he hadn’t happened by. She probably would have had to claw her way out of the ditch.

  Something niggled at her brain. How was it that he had just come by? She shook away her misgivings and stepped back from the window. The wet fabric of her skirt clung to her legs. Yuck.

  She jogged up the stairs, stopping outside her son’s bedroom. A thin line of light leaked from the bottom of his door. She lifted her hand to knock, then something inside her said to wait. A rational conversation wasn’t going to be had while she shivered in her wet dress.

  Samuel needed time to cool down, too.

  Decision made, she retreated to her bedroom and changed into warm sleep clothes. After she brushed her teeth and washed her face, she climbed into her bed. Pulling the covers up, she said a quiet prayer for wisdom on how to reach her son. She couldn’t bear to lose him. Not him, too.

  Creak.

  The house must be settling, Rebecca reasoned to herself. She rolled over and pulled the covers up over her shoulder. The nights were getting cooler. She took long breaths in and out but couldn’t slow the thoughts racing through her head.

  Harvest time was coming. She wondered how much longer she’d be able to manage the farm while she spent long hours at the diner.

  The girls were spending more and more time with their aunt and uncle.

  Everything that was important to her was slipping through her fingers.

  Creak. Creak. Bang.

  Rebecca froze and the sound of her shaky breath filled her ears. The noise had come from downstairs. She sprung up in bed and tossed the covers back in one swift motion. “Samuel!” she called. “Samuel, are you okay?”

  When he didn’t answer, a flush of dread heated her skin and made her dizzy. For once in her life, she wished she had a phone—one of the portable ones—to call for help.

  She swung her legs out from under the covers and her toes hit the cool hardwood floor. She grabbed her robe from the hook and stuffed her arms into the sleeves. After hesitating at the bedroom door, she finally mustered the nerve to step into the dark hallway.

  The house was quiet save for the ticking of a battery-powered clock downstairs in the kitchen, the sound traveling through the house.

  Samuel’s bedroom door yawned open revealing a dark space.

  Her mouth went dry. “Samuel?”

  Tick-tock-tick-tock mingled with her shaky breath.

  Rebecca stepped into his room. Samuel’s bed was empty. In the dark, she made out some of the shadows. The radio. The open laptop. The shock of seeing the forbidden items had worn off a bit, but still they taunted her. He had to get this worldliness out of his system. Come to realize that the Amish way of life was the only way.

  Biting her lower lip, she left his room and descended the stairs. At that exact moment, the front door flew open and slammed against the wall. She couldn’t make out his expression in the dark, but she knew it was her son. He pulled on something stuck in the wood of the door, then slammed the door shut.

  She moved to the sitting room and turned on the kerosene lamp. Her growing unease swelled up, making her shudder. Rebecca tightened the tie on her robe around her waist. “Samuel, what is it? What’s wrong?” Her gaze dropped to his hand. A silver blade glistened in the dim light. “What is that?” A lump of emotion clogged her throat.

  Samuel glanced at the blade in his hand, as if he didn’t know how it had gotten there. With a tight set of his mouth, he moved his other hand behind him. “You’ve got to leave things alone.”

  Rebecca took a step toward him, the wood creaking beneath her.

  “Samuel,” she pleaded, “please tell me what’s going on. Did someone stick a knife in our front door?” A chill raced down her spine.

  “Looks that way.” His clipped words seemed forced. A cover for his own fear.

  “Who would do such a thing? Did they leave a note under the blade?” Had she seen a piece of paper in his other hand?

  The soft moonlight slanting through the window caught the naked fear in his eyes. He bowed his head, looking as if he wanted to say something.

  “I want to help you,” she pleaded. “Tell me.”

  He straightened. A hard expression darkened his eyes. “Stop asking questions. You’re only making matters worse.”

  Rebecca hugged her arms around her middle. Suddenly, she felt sick. “What am I making worse?”

  His stance widened and he pushed back his shoulders. Confident. Strong. Defiant. Her stomach twisted. So much like his father. “Isn’t Rumspringa supposed to be a time of freedom for me? Time for me to explore on my own?”

  “Is that what this is all about?” She shook her head. She couldn’t believe it. “There has to be more to it. We’re being harassed. Are people still angry about Willard?”

  A muscle worked in his jaw, as if he couldn’t find the words.

  “Something else is going on. Tell me.” She stepped forward and placed her hand gently on his arm, hoping to give him an opening. “Does it have to do with Elmer’s death? I know you and he were good friends.”

  “You’re worse than Dat in trying to control me.”

  Rebecca flattened her hands over her heart, feeling as if she had been stabbed. “I know you’re hurting, but how could you compare me to your father? He was an evil man.” The sting of tears burned the back of her eyes. “You need to apologize.”

  Samuel’s lips thinned into a straight line. This was not the young man she’d raised. Had Willard damaged him this much?

  A cold realization washed over her. She reached out to touch his arm a
nd then thought better of it. “You are not your father’s son. You are not Willard Fisher. You are Samuel. You are growing into a gut man.” A million thoughts swirled in her brain. “Whatever is going on, I can help you. But you have to confide in me.”

  Samuel placed the knife on the table, crossed his arms and glared at her.

  “If you can’t confide in me, confide in Professor Burke.”

  “So he can tell you?” Samuel bit out the angry words.

  “The professor hasn’t told me anything. He said he didn’t want to betray your trust.” She angled her head, trying to get him to meet her eyes, but he seemed more interested in the dark ledge of the first stair. “Please, I want to help you.”

  Samuel rubbed his hand across his mussed hair. “Elmer lived in our barn after his father kicked him out for doing drugs.”

  Rebecca held her breath, waiting. “You should have told me. Perhaps I could have talked to his dat for him.”

  Samuel shook his head. “Mr. King was so angry. It wouldn’t have mattered.” The look of regret, sadness, guilt on her son’s face hurt her deeply.

  Rebecca softened her voice, longing to ease Samuel’s guilt. “Yah, you were a gut friend. You did what you thought was right.” It wasn’t unheard of for people to take in their friends by providing a blanket and a soft spot to lay their head. Her son was no different.

  Samuel ran a finger under his nose, then pointed upstairs. “All that stuff. The laptop. Everything. It was Elmer’s. He asked me to hold it for him until he figured out what he was going to do next.”

  Relief and shame weighed heavy on her chest.

  “You were a gut friend,” she said again, determined to ease whatever was bothering him.

  “No, I wasn’t. I knew he was smoking weed the night he got into his car and drove away. It’s all my fault.”

  Rebecca pointed to the knife with its sinister blade resting on the small table. “Is someone threatening you because of Elmer’s death?”

  “I—I think that’s what this is about. Some of the guys have been harassing me. Telling me I should have stopped him from driving.” He plowed his hand through his hair again. “But I left him in the barn and came inside. How was I to know he was going to get in the car?”