Forbidden (7 page)

Hannah nodded. “Of course.”

“Well, that's a start.” He saw a piece of paper on the counter, grabbed it along with a pencil, then thrust it in front of Hannah. “I need you to write out a description of your sister: hair, eye color, height, weight, moles, scars, tattoos, any identifying marks, birth date. Anything else you can add that might be helpful.”

His statement was met with silence. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, waiting…
Waiting
for
what?
Roc wasn't even sure what to do, where to go.
Would
going
to
the
police
help
Rachel?
Maybe he'd let Levi handle that aspect, so he could begin searching.
But
where?

“Where was she last seen?”

“At the Troyers',” Levi said while Hannah wrote out a description of Rachel on the paper. “She was working there each morning, picking strawberries and vegetables for their stand.”

“The Troyers on Slow Gait Road?”

Levi nodded.

“And who was the last to see Rachel alive?”

Hannah flinched, and he immediately regretted phrasing it that way. But at the same time, she had to understand what they were up against. Or maybe she already knew—as long as she knew there were worse things than death.

Levi reached over and took hold of Hannah's hand. “Eli Troyer. He's but a boy.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“He doesn't know anything.”

“Levi—” Hannah stopped herself.

The corners of Levi's mouth compressed. “I spoke to him earlier. He knew nothing.”

Hannah twisted her hands together. “That's what he said.”

Roc raised an eyebrow of doubt. Obviously Hannah hadn't believed the boy. “Won't hurt for me to try.”

“Then I will take you to him.”

“Can you go after them…Akiva and Rachel?” Hannah laid the pen across the paper. “Bring my sister home?”

Roc rubbed the back of his neck. Where would he begin? Where would Akiva have gone? And if the vampire wanted revenge, why hadn't he killed Rachel here? Why hadn't he left her body for Hannah to find? There were too many questions, too many unknowns. “Yes to the first, but I don't know on the second. No promises.”

“We aren't asking for any guarantees. The matter is in the Lord's hands.” Levi stood and walked to the door where he retrieved his hat off a peg in the wall. “We don't have much, Roc, but we will pay you.”

“I don't want your money, Levi.”

“What do you want?” Hannah asked.

Roc released a pent-up breath. “For this to be over.”

The automobile glided along the highway, passing vegetable stands, suburbs, and eventually the state line. Blinking only rarely, Rachel stared at the streaks of colors, unfazed by the speed of departure. Her mind fixated on nothing. She wasn't nervous about riding in the car like some Amish were. She wasn't worried about the future. She wasn't afraid of the man sitting next to her. She simply felt numb.

Greens and blues and yellows mingled and shifted from one color to the next until it became a rainbow of hues, distorting any distinctive lines and blurring all landmarks into a kaleidoscope of hazy objects that meant nothing and couldn't hold her attention.

Even though bright sunlight streamed through the windows, the air-conditioning kept her cool and comfortable. Eventually the constant blowing against her face irritated her, and she angled the vent away from her. A light cascade of music trickled out of the speakers behind her. Mostly instrumental, it did not hold her attention either but cocooned her in a sheltered world all her own.

She rested her hands in her shrinking lap, her arms tucked around the mound of her belly. A sudden kick of her baby nudged her arm and jarred her out of the cobwebs of her thoughts. A glimpse of a billboard, advertising a restaurant in Baltimore, caught her attention.
Baltimore? As in Maryland?

She sat up straighter and gripped a leather strap along the door.
What
was
she
doing
here? Why had she agreed to come? For Josef, but what could she do for her husband now? Where were they going?

“I need to stop.” She spoke before thinking, meaning the car, the trip, this madness.

Akiva glanced over at her, his brows slanting into a frown. “What for?”

The baby kicked again, and she pressed her hand against her belly. “Because…I have to stop.”

Akiva's gaze shifted downward toward her belly. “I'll look for a gas station.”

She nodded and kept her gaze trained on the windshield, searching for an exit, but all the while trying to think of what to do, where to go, how to get back home. “Where are we going?”

“Tonight?”

“
Ja
, tonight.” She could think no farther.

“Knoxville or thereabouts. We'll see how far we can make it. But I wasn't planning on making stops.”

“Knoxville?” She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat.
Knoxville, Tennessee?
Her shoulders tensed with indecision. “How far are we going in all?”

He tapped his index finger against the top of the steering wheel. “I'll let you know.”

“Is there a hurry?” she asked.

“Aren't you in one?”

She lifted a shoulder and settled it back into place. “
Ja
, I suppose.” She smoothed a hand over her belly, straightening the blue fabric of her dress and the overlaying apron. He'd said if she helped she could return home to have her baby. The sooner the better. “I reckon I didn't think we'd go this far…or for so long.” A weight of worry pressed into her chest. “My family will be worried. I should have told them—”

“I left them a note for you, so they wouldn't worry.”

A flurry of whispers invaded her thoughts. She glanced at him then, studied his profile: the straight edge of his nose, the firm jutting of his jaw and chin. He didn't seem the type to leave a note, to reveal his inner thoughts, to broadcast his intentions, and yet she had no reason to doubt him. “You left a note?”

“Of course. I didn't want to cause any problems. Your sister will understand and keep your folks from worrying overmuch.”

Rachel drew a steadier breath as a swirling cloud swept over her, but the questions, excuses, and reasons she should turn back pushed her clear. “But I need to get home. The baby is coming soon.”

“Not that soon.” He nudged the wheel gently to the right, and the car veered off the highway and onto a side road. Up ahead, a gas-station sign tilted at an odd angle, and the lower right corner was broken. “Want me to get you something to drink while you visit the ladies' room?”

She hadn't realized she was thirsty or hungry. She hadn't realized a lot of things. It was as if a cloud bank crept over the edges of her mind and turned her around. “That would be nice,
danke
.”

He pulled to the side of the brick building. One lone, dilapidated car was parked toward the back, and she figured it belonged to whoever was working inside.
Could
she
speak
to
that
person? Would he…or she help her call home? Or at least a neighbor?
Akiva parked, and Rachel stared straight ahead. On the side of the building were two doors, both with oval signs, one with a male figure, the other with a lady's shape.

“I'll meet you here,” he said.

Disappointment congealed inside her. She wouldn't have to go inside the actual building, and she wouldn't have a chance to speak to the attendant. After a moment, Akiva whispered, “Come on.”

Rachel pushed open the car door. It took a moment for her to unfold her legs and get to a standing position, as the baby was in the way and sitting on her bladder. Her joints ached, and the muscles along her lower back cramped. She arched her back and leaned against the car for a second before heading toward the restroom.

“Right here.” Akiva's voice trailed after her.

She turned, shading her eyes against the blood-red setting sun, and nodded. “Where else would I go?”

“Exactly.” His point poked through the hazy cloud and chilled her.

When she reached the marked door, it was locked. She stepped away, waiting for whoever might be inside. But maybe there wasn't anyone in there. No other cars were in the parking area, just the rundown one. Maybe she needed a key, and she could speak to the person inside the building after all.

She turned and almost bumped straight into Akiva. He glared down at her.

Licking her dry lips, she explained, “It's locked.”

He didn't move out of her way.

“I'll go ask for a key,” she suggested.

He reached past her and folded his hand around the metal knob. “Sometimes these doors are tricky.” He gave the knob a shake then turned it, his hand squeezing hard, and pushed the door open. “No one is in here. No key needed.”

She gave him a nod, ducked her head, and entered the dark room. Behind her, Akiva flipped the light switch, and the overhead bulb fluttered and caught, giving off an eerie glow. Then he left her alone.

For a full minute, she stood in the quiet of the small room, and the haziness disappeared. The gray floor sported stains she didn't want to analyze. The white enamel sink contained a pool of pink liquid soap along one side. Graffiti had been scribbled on the walls in black marker, red lipstick, and blue pen. The flickering fluorescent bulb gave her skin a slightly green hue, and she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were wide, her lips pale. She touched her cool cheek.

What
should
she
do?
What
could
she
do?

But the answer came as soon as she thought the question. There was really no question, no other answer. She would go with Akiva. And she would pray to the good Lord she would return home soon.

Resigned to continue the journey, she washed her hands before opening the door again. Of course, Akiva was waiting for her, leaning a hip against the side of his car, his gaze hard and impenetrable.

***

The plastic lemonade bottle tilted precariously, and Rachel jerked awake at the cold touch of someone's hand on hers. “You're about to spill your drink.”

“Danke.”
She cupped the bottle with both hands. The remaining pink liquid was warm, but she drank down a tart gulp. Her neck ached from her head bobbing and swaying while she slept as Akiva drove. Darkness stared back at her through the windshield, fog filled her head, and nothing looked familiar. She blinked, trying to clear her thoughts from sleep. The sun had long since set, and now headlights glared at her as cars passed on the other side of the highway, going where she wanted to go.

She shifted in her seat, straightening out her legs, feeling her calf muscles contract. “Where are we?”

“Tennessee.”

His answer stunned her. “Already?”

“You tired?”

“A little.” She shifted in the seat, her backside not quite numb. “You must be too. You've been driving a long time.”

“We're almost there.”

Why did his pronouncement stir a froth of distress inside her? “And what will we do there?”

“You can sleep if you want.”

Sleep would be good. Normal.
But
what
was
the
purpose
of
coming
to
Tennessee? What was the purpose of all of this?
Her stomach gurgled, either rejecting the lemonade or begging for more. “Maybe we could get a bite to eat.”

His gaze slanted toward her, and his mouth curved in a half smile. “Of course. I am hungry too.”

His deep tone and dark look made her stomach clench.

A few minutes later, he pulled into a motel parking lot and left her in the car alone, making the locks click into place as a squawk and beep sounded. She waited as he walked into the motel's lobby. It took only a few minutes before he returned with a key.
One
key.

Stunned, she blurted out, “We're staying in the same room?”

“Seriously, Rachel, you're worried about
that
?” He chuckled as he slid back into the driver's seat and started the engine. Driving around the corner of the yellow-painted building, he parked near the back. “I got a downstairs room so you don't have to climb any stairs.”

She followed him to Room 142, waited while he unlocked the door, and then entered behind him. It was a narrow room, with one double bed, a desk, and a wall-mounted television. She walked only as far as the corner of the bed then stopped. “I can't stay in here. Not with you.”

He closed the door with a hard thunk, jerking the chain in place, and her skin flinched. Chuckling, he cupped her shoulder with his chilled hand. “Rachel, get over your high-and-mighty morality.” He leaned close, his breath brushing her neckline and sending a shiver through her. “You and I both know what you've done in the past. You're not so pure you can't stay in a room with a man who isn't your husband, can you?”

It felt as if he'd tossed a cold bucket of her sins in her face. Her body began to tremble.
What
did
he
expect? What did he want?
“But I'm married and—”

“You think Josef is gonna come bang down that door in a torrent of male pride and ownership? Think again, Rach.”

“Jacob.” She hesitated, realizing she spoke the wrong name, the name he no longer wanted to be called. But he'd called her “Rach,” said it in the way Jacob once had. “Jacob,” she said again, hoping to reach some part of him that had been connected to her, “I'm pregnant.”

This time when he laughed, the sound swelled inside the room as if it would bust the window. His gaze slipped downward, past her breasts to her swollen belly as if he was caressing her, and she shivered. “No kidding. Really? And you think I want a piece of this?” He grabbed her bottom through the back of her dress and gave her a squeeze. “Think again.”

Her skin crawled at his touch, and her face caught fire with embarrassment.

He released her and plopped down on the bed, lying flat and taking up a good portion of the mattress. He crossed his ankles and clasped his hands over his belly. “Get ready for bed.”

Get
ready? How?
She couldn't move. Not purposefully. But she trembled from her prayer
kapp
all the way down to her tennis shoes. Finally, she noticed a doorway at the end of the room, which she figured was the bathroom. She started toward it. At least privacy would give her a moment to recover.

“Can I touch it?” His voice sounded soft and stopped her.

“It?”

“In your belly.”

“The baby?” She glanced downward, and soft whispers descended upon her, wrapped around her. “I reckon it would be all right.”

She took an awkward step toward him and waited. He swung his legs off the bed and approached, reaching out, his hand hovering inches away from her belly. His breath fanned the top of her head. She finally reached out and took his hand, his skin cool and smooth, and settled it against the side of her stomach, where the baby had last kicked. “Sometimes it takes a moment before the baby moves.”

“Does it kick often?”

“To me, it seems that way. But I don't know about other babies.” She looked just past Akiva, not into his eyes, but she could feel him breathing, feel his anticipation, his keen interest. She remembered how at ease she had felt with Jacob so many years ago. His hand on her shoulder, waist, knee had never seemed to touch who she was deep down inside. He had fondled and touched her intimately in ways that made her burn with embarrassment and regret thinking about it now, but she had felt separated from herself then, as if someone else lived and breathed inside her.

But now, she felt keenly aware of the breadth of his shoulders, his shallow breathing, his hand pressed against the tautness of her belly.

Then the baby shifted.

Akiva sucked in a breath and jerked his hand away. “That was it! I felt it.”

She nodded and stepped away, turned her back on him and faced a pale blue curtain covering the wide window facing the parking lot. Near the bottom of the curtain was a brown stain.
Was
she
to
stay
with
this
man
in
a
room, in the same bed even? What would Josef say? Her Mamm and Dat?
Shame washed over her.
What
had
she
done?