Amish Rescue. Debby Giusti

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Amish Rescue - Debby Giusti Amish Protectors

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everything could change in an instant.

      She would never be free of Victor, not until the hateful man was stopped.

      * * *

      The rain intensified just before Joachim and Sarah reached the porch. Another sound was discernable over the rain. He glanced at the drive and tensed. A horse and buggy scurried along the main road. For a long moment, Joachim stared after the buggy and then let out a deep breath.

      “You thought it was Victor, didn’t you?” she pressed.

      He squeezed Sarah’s hand, hoping to provide reassurance and bring comfort to her seemingly still-anxious heart. “Victor will not find you here.”

      At least that was Joachim’s hope.

      Together they climbed the steps to the porch. He opened the door and motioned her inside. She wiped her feet on the latched rug and hurried into the kitchen.

      A sense of calm and right order enveloped Joachim as he stepped over the threshold and stopped to take in the peacefulness that pervaded the space. Glancing at the familiar furnishings—the table and chairs, dry sink and cabinets—his datt had made, Joachim soaked in the aura of home and family he had missed for the last five years.

      “Rebecca can brew coffee,” he said, hoping his voice did not reveal the mix of emotions that had welled up within him upon entering the house. He turned to the newcomer. “Perhaps you would prefer tea?”

      Sarah glanced at Rebecca, who hurried in behind them.

      “I have cold cuts and cheese and fresh baked bread if you are hungry.”

      “Thank you both,” Sarah said. “But first, I need to wash my hands and face, if you don’t mind.”

      “Of course.” Rebecca pointed to the stairs. “I will take you to the room where you will stay the night. Joachim must tend his mare. We will eat after he returns from the barn.”

      His sister turned as if to shoo him outside. But despite her prompting, he was slow to head to the door. He did not want to leave the home to which he had only now returned. He also did not want to leave Sarah.

      He gently touched her shoulder. “So much has happened, but you are not to worry. Victor is in town, searching for you there.”

      “And if he comes here?” she asked.

      “I will not let him into the house.”

      Belle needed to be groomed and fed. Rebecca would take care of Sarah until he returned. Still, leaving the house this time was almost as hard as leaving the mountains had been five years ago.

      How could he have grown so attached to a woman—an Englisch woman—in such a short period of time? He knew nothing about her except that she needed a safe place to stay for a day or two. He and Rebecca would open their home to her, but Joachim needed to be careful. As taken as he was by her in such a short time, he feared what might happen in the days ahead. He must guard not only Sarah, but also his heart.

       FOUR

      Joachim had said that he would keep her safe. As much as Sarah wanted to believe him, she was worried. Victor was unpredictable, and his mood swings had grown progressively more extreme. He had warned her never to leave him, but she’d done just that. Given how angry he’d been before over smaller infractions, what would his response be to this?

      Rebecca filled a pitcher with water and motioned for Sarah to follow her. “A diesel pump runs our well, so we always have water in the house,” the Amish woman explained as they climbed the stairs. “Propane heats our water for washing and bathing. Later I will fill a tub for you.”

      On the second floor, she ushered Sarah into a small but spotlessly clean bedroom. A beige patchwork quilt pieced with blue triangles covered the single bed. A chest of drawers, table and straight-back chair filled the room.

      Rebecca placed the pitcher on the chest next to a large porcelain bowl. She opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a thick terry-cloth towel, a bar of soap and a glass bottle.

      “I made the soap and shampoo and added natural oils to both products. I hope you will find them to your liking.”

      “Thank you, Rebecca. You and your brother have been so thoughtful.”

      Rebecca seemed to appreciate the compliment that hopefully would wash away her earlier concern about Sarah. The Amish woman offered a weak smile. Her cheeks glowed pink with a mix of embarrassment and appreciation. “Come downstairs when you are ready to eat.”

      Sarah glanced at the inviting bed, wishing she could hide under the covers and curl into a ball. Maybe then she wouldn’t worry about Victor finding her again. Was she safe here? Sarah needed to learn more about Joachim Burkholder and his Amish family. Thanks to them, she had a place to stay, at least for now.

      She scrubbed her face and hands and dabbed water through her hair, appreciating the clean, fresh scent of the bar soap and eyeing the liquid shampoo. Using the bath products Rebecca had made would be a welcome treat, although so much could happen in the hours ahead. Sarah needed to focus on figuring out what she needed to do to remain free from Victor instead of on creature comforts like having a long soak in a hot tub.

      After patting her face and hands dry, she returned to the kitchen.

      “The coffee is hot,” Rebecca said in greeting. “Or as Joachim mentioned, I could make tea.”

      “He’s still in the barn?” Sarah asked, knowing nothing about farm life and feeling somewhat awkward around his sister.

      “Yah. Joachim feeds his horse before he feeds himself.”

      “You seemed surprised to see him.”

      The Amish woman nodded. “He has been gone from our home for a number of years. It is gut to have him back again.”

      “Do you have other siblings?”

      “A brother, Eli, died a few years ago.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “It was Gott’s will.”

      Sarah didn’t want to think about a loving God taking anyone’s life. At the moment, she longed for something to keep her mind on anything other than death. “May I help you prepare the lunch?”

      “You can slice the bread. It is cooling on the counter.” Rebecca pointed to the raised loaf. A knife lay next to a cutting board.

      “It’s homemade?” Sarah asked, admiring the plumpness of the loaf and the golden brown crust.

      “Yah.” Rebecca arranged the meat and cheese on a platter. “I always make extra bread and sell it to tourists who stop at our driveway.”

      Sarah looked out the window, suspicion growing within her. “Do people often come to your house?”

      “It is not something that should worry you,” Rebecca assured her.

      In

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