A Simple Hope: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (9 page)

As soon as Gary disappeared from sight, Shandell popped out of the car. Her hands shook as she opened the rear door and reached in for her backpack, but she warned herself to stay calm. Keep breathing … and run!

Her pack thumped against her back as she bolted across the parking lot, cutting a wide arc around the ice-cream place. Once
she flew out onto the sidewalks of Halfway’s Main Street, she had to watch for pedestrians. She darted past two chatty teenaged Amish girls and cut around a woman helping an elderly man out of the car parked at the curb. With tourists and local people dipping in and out of shops and chatting casually, Halfway’s Main Street was no place to be in a hurry.

Her heart raced, more from fear than exertion, as she passed a cute little tea shop and Kraybill’s Fish and Game, where some handsome wooden ducks were on display in the window.

At the next corner she paused and peered behind her. No sign of Gary yet, but there was no telling how long he would be. She couldn’t outrun him. She would have to hide.

Bracing herself, she bounded ahead, feeling a sense of relief with each step she put between herself and Gary. She had to get away—now.

She raced past the bakery, its window teasing with iced pastries and buttery pretzels. The scent of baking rolls made her stomach growl, but right now hunger was the least of her worries. She had to get away and time was running out. But where could she hide?

Her heart thumping, she slowed to a jog and paused at the door to the Country Store. It was as good a place as any. Bells jingled as she stepped inside to the mixed scents of lavender and sweet chocolate fudge. Old, white-scrubbed wood shelves and display cases held crafts like crocheted potholders, wooden birdhouses, handmade quilts, and Amish rag dolls. The quaint shop beckoned to her, a refuge.

“What should I do with these, Elsie?” a big Amish guy asked the young woman sitting behind the counter.

“Put them in the storeroom for now,” she answered.

A quick glance told Shandell that Elsie had an unusual smile. Shiny dark hair was pulled back under her white kapp, and her eyes
seemed kind as she focused on Shandell. “Can I help you find something?”

Swallowing back her pride and fear, Shandell pressed her palms to the counter.

“Please … Elsie, that’s your name, right? I need your help.”

The young Amish shopkeeper’s eyes grew wide. “Tell me what I can do for you.”

“Hide me.” Shandell’s heart was thumping fast now. She checked the door, sure that at any moment it would burst open and Gary would barge in, flashing the handsome smile that didn’t connect to his heart. “My friend is … well, he’s gone a little crazy and I need to get away from him. I ran from his car just now, but he’ll be coming after me. Please, will you help me?”

Elsie’s dark brows lowered as she shot a look at the door. “Come with me.”

As the Amish woman slid down from the stool, Shandell saw that she was barely three feet tall. A little person. Still, she moved with authority as she led Shandell past an aisle of wooden plaques and quaint paintings of green fields and Amish quilts.

“You can stay in here,” Elsie said, pulling the curtain back on a doorway.

Shandell quickly scanned the dim, windowless storeroom, its walls lined with shelves of neatly arranged boxes, jars, and fabric. “Thanks, but there’s no door. Gary could just walk right in here, and he probably will. Maybe I should go out the back way …”

Elsie stepped behind Shandell, her compact body blocking her from backing away. “What’s your name?”

“Shandell Darby. I live in Baltimore, and I don’t know how I ended up here with Gary, but I just want to get away from him and go home.” Shandell didn’t mean to blurt out her life story, but there it was, bald and true.

“Then get away, you will.” Elsie nodded at the storeroom. “But for now, you’re better off in here. We’ll cover you up right good. Put your pack in there and sit on the floor by this wall.”

Shandell followed Elsie’s instructions. First she stashed her backpack inside a wooden love chest with a seat that opened. Then she huddled up against the wall by the shelves holding bolts of fabric.

“Now, this is thin muslin cloth, so I reckon you’ll be able to breathe through it,” Elsie said as she unwound a bolt of tan cloth. She opened the material and doubled it up so that it would cover Shandell. Then she slid the bolt onto the shelf just above Shandell’s head. “There. How’s that?” Elsie asked.

“I feel like a mummy. Can you see me?”

“No.” Elsie patted Shandell’s head gently, then adjusted the cloth again. “Are you good under there?”

“Fine.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be out front, but you just sit tight.”

She was about to thank Elsie, but the Amish shopkeeper’s footsteps were already receding. Shandell pressed against the wall. If she closed her eyes and melted into the floor and wall, maybe she would be invisible to Gary.

Shandell took comfort in the voices from the main shop. Elsie seemed to know how to please customers, and the Amish guy had a deep, low voice that complemented Elsie’s high-pitched tone.

The place had a peaceful atmosphere, like one of the scenes in the paintings by the storeroom door, with patchwork fields lined by purple hills, black hats on hooks, a horse and buggy silhouetted by a brilliant orange sunset. For a few minutes, Shandell let herself float in the good memories of the past few days.

Then, with a jingle of the door bells, she felt him enter the shop.

“I’m looking for my girlfriend.” Gary’s voice chilled the air. “We were just on our way home, and we stopped in town.”

Liar
. She wasn’t his girlfriend. And he wasn’t going to take her home. It was all an act.

Tears of frustration and anger sprang from her eyes. How did she get into this mess?

“Did you see a girl with black hair?” Gary asked.

“Lots of girls like that around here,” Elsie answered.

“Yeah, but hers is sort of tinted blue.”

“You can take a look.”

“I figure she went off to browse in a shop and lost track of time,” Gary said. “You know how women are.”

His voice was growing louder, a sign that he was creeping closer. Shandell clenched her jaw, fighting to remain very still. She held her breath as she sensed him closing in on her.

Was he in the storeroom?

Go away! Leave me alone
.

To keep from quivering, she imagined herself floating away from him on a thick white cloud.

“All right. Whatever.” His voice, coming from the shop once again, let her breathe again. He talked with Elsie a minute more, turning on the charm. Then, at last, he said good-bye.

Shandell’s heartbeat began to steady as the bells jingled. A minute later, she heard Elsie’s voice.

“He’s gone, but you best stay put for a few minutes, in case he pops back in.”

Shandell spoke through the muslin. “Thank you. I … I really need a break from him.”

“I’ll say. He talks sweet, but I wouldn’t trust him. He made off with two bars of lavender soap. Tucked them right up under his shirt.”

“He did? I’m so sorry.” Shandell thought of the few dollar bills she had hidden in a pocket of her backpack. “I’ll pay you for them.”

“No need,” Elsie said. “From the looks of him, I reckon he could put the soap to good use.”

A few minutes later, Shandell still felt shaky as she emerged from her fabric cocoon. Elsie peered into the storeroom while she was smoothing out the muslin and wrapping it neatly.

“I can’t thank you enough.” Shandell replaced the bolt of fabric and stepped back into the shop, where the Amish man was tending to customers. She kept her voice low, not wanting to make a scene. “Really. I … I had to get away from him.”

Elsie nodded, her brown eyes wide with concern. “How will you get back home? Baltimore is too far to walk.”

“I’m hoping my mom will come pick me up.” Shandell swallowed against the knot in her throat. That was going to be a difficult phone call to make, but she was ready to apologize. “I want to go home,” she said, her voice raspy with emotion.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” Elsie patted her shoulder, her brown eyes aglow with concern. “Do you have a cell phone to make your call?”

The Amish woman was kind, even motherly, though she seemed young to have children herself. “I do, but the battery ran out.” She hadn’t thought about bringing the charger, and she couldn’t afford to buy a new one.

“Then use our phone. We just got it. The bishop allows shop phones if the wiring is already there.” Elsie pointed to a white phone hanging on the wall over a tidy little desk in the storeroom.

Swallowing back her nerves, Shandell picked up the handset and punched in the number. It was late afternoon, almost suppertime, and she imagined her mom in the kitchen, the scent of roasted chicken in the air and a wispy cloud of steam rising from a pot on the stove.

As it rang, she rehearsed her apology.
Mom, I’m sorry for the bad choices I made. I should never have argued with you. I’m sorry about failing math. Give me a chance to fix things. I’ll make it better …

The line clicked, but the low snarl wasn’t her mother. “Hello?”

“Phil …” Disappointment tugged at her. “It’s Shandell.”

“Shandell who?” He slurred her name, but the malice in his voice was sharp and clear.

“I know that’s a joke, but right now I don’t feel much like laughing. I was hoping to talk to Mom.”

“She’s not here. She’s working the laundry. Trying to pay the bills.
Your
bills.”

“I’m sorry, Phil. About everything.” It hurt her to think of him sitting there in the folds of the couch, tossing back a beer, while their family was crumbling like a cookie. “But I need to talk to Mom. I … I’ll call her on her cell.” She should have done that in the first place.

“Good luck with that,” Phil Darby said. “There’s no cell phone reception in that laundry. Besides, she couldn’t talk with you, even if she wanted to. She’s got a job to do. A job. That’s what you need, instead of whining over school. When are you going to wise up?”

A wave of remorse swept through her when she thought of the mistakes she’d made. Granted, she had been trying hard in school, and the math grade wasn’t her fault. But instead of shutting down and letting herself fail, she should have stood up and gotten help. She should have appreciated the support her parents gave her—good food and a roof over her head. And then it had been wrong to cut off Mom, the only person who was really on her side. Instead, she had jumped in Gary’s car, dazzled by the thought of adventure. She’d actually thought that a few days at his sister’s house would be like a vacation.

What an idiot she was! And she had no one to blame but herself.

Shandell told Phil: “Tell her I called, okay?”

“I’m not your secretary,” he grumbled.

“Please, Phil.” She ran her hand over a little scar in the surface of the desk, bracing against the sting of his retorts. Although she knew it was the alcohol talking, it still hurt. “Listen, I gotta go—”

“So busy doing nothing,” he snapped.

“Bye, Phil.” Wincing, she broke the connection and quickly dialed her mother’s cell phone. Phil had been right; there was no answer. She left a message saying she was all right, that she was in a town in Lancaster County, and that she would try again later.

When she hung up, the Amish guy was standing behind her with a plate of food.

“Ruben got some fresh rolls at the bakery, and we have cheese and apple butter.” As Ruben put the plate on the little desk, Elsie scooted the chair out for Shandell. “Sit. Have a little bit to eat.”

“Thank you.” Shandell smiled at the tall young man, who nodded. Next to Elsie, he seemed like a giant, but she liked the way he looked at the Amish teen. There was fondness in his eyes, as if Elsie were a bright bouquet of flowers. They were a cute couple.

Shandell’s mouth watered at the sight of the soft rolls with a wedge of buttery cheese. “I haven’t eaten for a while.”

“I thought so.” Elsie opened up a folding chair as the door bells jingled. “We’ll be right with you!” she called toward the door.

“I’ll go,” Ruben offered, heading out to tend to the customer.

“Did you talk to your mamm?”

“I left a message for her,” Shandell said, breaking off a piece of roll.

“A message? But how will she find you?” Elsie sat down in the folding chair, and frowned over the cloth bag in her lap. “Is she coming for you?”

“She’ll be coming later.” Shandell didn’t want to pile more worry on Elsie; the young woman had done enough, hiding her from Gary. And she certainly didn’t want to try to explain about Phil. She had kept her stepfather’s bad behavior a secret from her friends; Gary had been the only one to figure it out, and that had been only because he’d been pushy. “What’s in the bag?”

“Scraps of cloth to make quilt squares. If you have to wait, it’s good to have something to pass the time.”

“But I’ve never made a quilt,” Shandell said.

“I’ll teach you.” Elsie pulled out a square of maroon cloth and smoothed it down on the desk. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Watching her go through the scrap bag, Shandell had a feeling there was nothing Elsie couldn’t smooth over. Maybe there was hope for Shandell, too. Maybe, with Elsie’s caring touch, her ragbag of a life could be pieced together.