the downward pull on his drawn lips, there was no reason to think he had changed.
Extending his hand, Joachim introduced himself. Instinctively, he knew from Victor’s menacing expression that the red-haired man had failed to recognize him.
Victor reluctantly accepted the handshake. “Is there something you want?”
“I’m looking for work.” Joachim glanced again at the overhead window, feeling a sense of loss at finding it empty. “Carpentry, painting or any handyman jobs you might need done. I can provide references.”
Victor pursed his lips. “You’re from around here?”
Joachim would not lie, but he saw no reason to provide more than a minimum of information. “I worked in North Carolina for a number of years. Folks said there might be jobs in this area of North Georgia.”
He studied the once-beautiful home, pausing to gaze at each window, hoping for another sign of the illusive woman. “Looks like they were right. Your house could use a bit of upkeep.”
Victor shrugged. “I doubt this old place is worth the effort.”
“A few repairs will make a big difference,” Joachim assured him. He touched the dry rot around the front door and peered inside the house through the sidelight. His heart skittered in his chest.
The woman he had seen moments earlier now stood poised on the landing. She raised her index finger to her lips as if pleading for him to remain silent about her whereabouts. The furtive look on her oval face made him even more concerned about her wellbeing.
Joachim turned back to Victor. “I can do as little or as much as you want. But you should know that the value of your property would improve with the repairs, in case you decide to sell any time soon.”
Victor arched a brow. Seemingly, the mention of financial gain brought interest. “You think I could find a buyer?”
Joachim nodded. “Yah, if you are willing to fix some of the problems.”
“I’ve got rot around the back porch, too,” Victor volunteered. “Plus, the kitchen door is warped and won’t close easily.”
“Let me have a look,” Joachim suggested. He motioned Victor to take the lead and then glanced again into the house. The woman had disappeared.
Joachim sighed at his own foolishness. He knew better than to play hide-and-seek with an Englisch woman. He needed employment, not involvement in a domestic dispute. Although she and Victor seemed an unlikely match. Perhaps she was a caregiver for his mother. Still, something did not seem right. Whether she was there as an employee, a spouse or a guest...no woman should look so afraid.
After rounding the house, Joachim climbed to the back porch. Quickly he inspected the sagging roof and rotting soffits, trying to get his mind off the woman who continued to tug at his heart.
His gaze turned to the kitchen window. He stepped closer in pretense of examining the sill, all the while peering through the glass, searching the kitchen and hallway beyond for some sign of the woman.
Victor stood to the side. “If I do hire you,” he warned, scratching his chin, “I won’t stand for laziness or slipshod work.”
Movement caught Joachim’s eye. Something or someone hurried across the entrance hallway to the front door.
“I understand your concern, but you will not find me to be lazy or my work slipshod,” Joachim said, hoping to keep Victor’s attention on the disrepair instead of what was happening inside the house.
Feeling the need to provide a distraction, Joachim tapped the sill and pushed on the wood before moving to the next window and repeating his assessment.
“Yah,” he finally said. “There is much work to be done. I could start tomorrow. Pay me only if you are satisfied with the completed job.”
“I’ll think it over.” Victor took another slug of his coffee. “Stop by tomorrow, and I’ll let you know.”
Joachim nodded. “Sounds gut.”
Leaving Victor on the porch, Joachim returned to the front of the house. He glanced at the outbuildings and barn in the distance. Had the woman left the house? Was she now hiding close at hand, or was he making more out of that which was innocent?
“Sarah?” Victor’s voice sounded as he entered the house.
Joachim climbed into the buggy and flicked the reins. Thankfully, Belle responded with a brisk trot.
Although Joachim kept his eyes on the road, he knew he was not alone. He had seen the tarp—which had been neatly folded and stowed away earlier—strewed over the back of the buggy. Someone was hiding under the thick covering.
He hurried the mare along the driveway and felt a sense of relief as he guided Belle onto the main road.
A sports car raced by, going much too fast. The woman in the passenger’s seat turned to stare at Joachim as if she had never seen an Amish man.
Too soon, the sound of another vehicle filled the air.
Joachim looked back, seeing a red pickup truck turn out of the Thomin driveway. Victor sat behind the wheel. The tires squealed as he gunned the engine.
Would he pass by as the other car had done or stop and demand to know who or what was hiding under the tarp in Joachim’s buggy?
Coming home had been a mistake. More than reconciling with his father, Joachim needed to reconcile with himself as to why he was so eager to help an Englisch woman on the run.
Sarah blinked back tears and tried to calm her heart before it ricocheted out of her chest. She had been a fool to think she could escape. The squeal of tires and the whine of a vehicle approaching the buggy made her realize the full extent of her mistake.
She curled into an even smaller ball and prayed the tarp would keep her hidden. After two months of captivity, she shuddered at the thought of what her punishment might be if Victor found her. Plus, she had put the Amish man in danger, and now he would be subject to Victor’s wrath, as well. The man driving the buggy was innocent of any wrongdoing and had stepped, quite literally, into a perfect storm that was getting worse by the moment.
That she had grabbed the opportunity to run away from Victor still stunned her. An action she never would have taken if not for his abuse earlier this morning. She had planned to escape with Miriam after they were reunited. Her sister would have known what to do and where to go. Miriam had saved Sarah from the fire. She would have saved her from Victor, as well.
Instead, the Amish man with the broad shoulders and understanding gaze had been the catalyst that had Sarah running for her life. Even when peering down at him from the window, she had felt an instant surge of hope when their eyes met, as if he knew she was in danger and had come to her rescue.
The hope evaporated with the deafening roar of the motor vehicle. She fisted her hands and bit down on her lip, willing herself to remain still while internally she wanted to kick her feet and wail like a small child who didn’t want
