Violet couldn’t credit the recent crimes for the odd jitters dancing inside her. No, the blame for her butterflies belonged to a certain sexy boor with soul-piercing hazel eyes. Gunnar Colton was far more dangerous to her peace of mind.
Chapter 2
“Mary, I want you and your brothers to deliver this food before school,” Alice Yoder said and placed a basket on the wooden table next to a burlap sack.
Violet looked up from her breakfast of fresh baked bread with honey, fried ham and scrambled eggs with homemade cheese. Her Amish family might not use many of the conveniences the modern world took for granted, but Alice Yoder’s cooking was heavenly.
“Ja, Mamm,” seventeen-year-old Mary replied, then glanced toward Violet and said, “Yes, Mother.”
Violet shook her head. “No, don’t speak English for me. I want to learn Dutch.”
Mary glanced at her mother, who gave a nod, and the teenager faced Violet again. “As you wish.”
Alice finished instructing her daughter about the delivery in Pennsylvania Dutch, and the only words Violet understood were a name: Caleb Troyer.
“Troyer? Isn’t he the man whose sister was kidnapped?” Violet asked, her gut pitching with empathy for the young Amish man.
Alice’s face reflected her concern for Caleb. “Ja. His sister, Hannah. He’s been working with the Englischers to find her, which doesn’t leave much time for preparing meals. It is our duty to look after Caleb and his precious daughters during this difficult time.”
Violet smiled. “I think it’s awesome the way the Amish community rallies around their neighbors in times of crisis.”
“Awesome?” Mary blinked and frowned.
Violet realized her slang use of the term must have confused the girl.
“Oh, by that, I mean that it’s wonderful. Kind and generous.”
Mary nodded and fingered the strings of her black kapp, the head covering worn in respect for God and signifying her unwed status. Because of her role as an unwed Amish woman, Violet also wore the traditional dress, apron and black kapp that she would wear as Grace during the filming.
“William, David, are you ready for school?” Alice called to her young sons.
The two boys ran in from outside, their cheeks ruddy from the cold, and Alice handed them their burlap bags. “Go with your sister, and take these to Caleb Troyer. Go now. Don’t be late for school.”
Violet shoved to her feet. “I’ll walk with them. I’d like to meet Caleb and his family, offer my assistance, as well.”
Alice handed Mary the basket and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “You may walk with Mary and the boys, but do not be offended if Caleb refuses your offer. We take care of our own but do not want outside influences or help from Englischers.”
“I understand.” Violet pushed away from the table and hurried to the door to catch up with Mary and the Yoder boys. “Thank you for breakfast, Alice. I’ll help you clean up when I get back.”
Alice waved her out the door. “No, you are our guest. Go on before the boys leave you.”
William and David had, in fact, already trotted to the road that led to the Yoder’s farm. Mary lifted a hand to wave goodbye to her father, tending the horses in the stable, and Violet, pulling on a thick cape for warmth, hustled to catch up, her feet crunching through the thick frost. Her plain leather lace-up boots and calf-length skirt of her dress made running difficult, especially on the uneven earth of the Yoder’s farm, but Mary lingered at the road, waiting for her.
“How far is the Troyer’s home?” Violet asked, readjusting her kapp, which had come askew as she rushed.
“Not far.” Mary pointed down the rural road. “It is the next farm. Only two miles.”
Violet chuckled, her breath forming a white cloud in the cold air. “Your definition of not far and mine are a little different. No wonder you all can eat so well and stay in shape.”
Mary angled her a shy smile and started to ask a question but was distracted by her brothers’ playful bumping and swatting of each other. “William, settle down.”
“I can beat you to the next road!” David shouted and took off running. William cast a quick glance to his sister then gave chase.
“David!” Mary called to no avail. She sighed heavily. “Boys are so …” She waved a hand in frustration, clearly searching for the right word that wouldn’t get her in trouble.
Violet caught the girl’s hand in hers. “Yes, they are! Very …” And she raised her own hand in frustration, then laughed. Mary’s smile broadened, and Violet clasped her other hand around Mary’s. “And they only get worse. Men are especially … aurgh!” Violet raised her eyes toward the sky in exasperation.
When Mary chuckled, Violet squeezed the teenager’s hand and studied her lightly freckled face. Her fresh-scrubbed, makeup-free skin glowed with the dewiness of youth and innocence. Her wide gray eyes held no guile, only an earnest love for life, and her dark brown hair was twisted up in the traditional modest bun.
“Mary Yoder,” Violet said, grinning, “do you have any idea how lovely you are?”
Her compliment obviously caught the girl off guard. A pink blush blossomed in her cheeks, and she ducked her head to hide a small smile before sobering a bit. She cast Violet a guarded look. “Vanity is a sin.”
Ah, right. That belief was the reason why the Amish had no mirrors in their houses.
“Hmm, in that case I know quite a few women—and men—in Hollywood who are in big trouble!” Violet returned with a wink.
The rumble of a car engine drew Violet’s attention to the large silver sedan that was driving rapidly toward them on the country road—far too rapidly considering how narrow the road was and how frequently the lane was used by Amish pedestrians or horse buggies, she thought, twisting her mouth in a scowl.
“Careful,” she said, taking Mary by the arm to tug her farther from the road, “give this idiot—” Violet stopped abruptly as the silver car skidded to a stop a few yards ahead of them, blocking their path. Her immediate thought was the car had been sent by the production staff to find her. Was there an emergency with her boys? If that were the case, why hadn’t they called her cell?
Violet patted her apron pocket—no phone. She’d left her cell on the bedside table at the Yoders’. Her pulse gave a little leap of concern, and she took a step toward the car.
The driver’s and passenger’s doors opened at the same time, and the two men who emerged wore ski masks. Alarm and confusion skittered through Violet, and even before she’d fully registered what was happening, she moved between the men and Mary. “What’s going on?”
“We’re going for a ride, sweetcheeks,” one of the men chortled as they advanced on Violet and Mary.
Icy
