Out of Darkness (7 page)

"Ruth," Abram said, waving towards the girl who had opened the door. "Annie needs you in the kitchen to help with arranging the breads for after the circle, please."

Ruth thankfully left without questioning how Abram had come to know this.

"The girl," the officer said again, a bit louder.

Lying was a sin under the Ordnung, the vow by which Abram had chosen to live his life when he was baptized before his marriage. While he had often failed to measure up to the task in spirit as well as letter, he had not, until this point, deliberately chosen to defy it.

Dear God,
  Abram prayed,
please guide my path and my tongue that I might be a vessel for Your will.
  He took a breath and said, "I don't know where she is. She seemed agitated. I think she left."

Officer Maglione's eyes widened and his lips parted in obvious disbelief. His collar shifted, and Abram caught glimpse of a fresh scab on his neck, as though some animal had scratched the officer just last night.  A vein throbbed in his neck as he asked in a very controlled voice, "Where did she go?"

Abram shrugged. "I don't know. It's Englischer business. We choose not to involve ourselves in Englischer business."

"I'll need to search the premises," the police officer said.

He attempted to push past Abram, who stood firm. "Has this woman committed a crime? Annie said her family was looking for her."

"They are.

"Then I suppose she's decided to return to them. Or not." Abram shrugged again, schooling his expression to stoic blandness. "It's an individual's choice whether or not they return to their parents' world, ja."

The vein in Officer Maglione's neck pulsed faster, and he gripped the base of his club with white knuckled fingers. His knuckles were scratched, with fresh scabs where someone or some action on his part had recently drawn blood. "We have reason to believe Sofia may have come to harm. This is obstruction of justice."

It was perfectly reasonable that the police officer be upset if he believed Sofia to be in danger, and Abram should have simply allowed him to speak with the Englischer girl, if nothing else so she could assure her family that she was safe. Yet something about this man had awakened a fear in the Englischer woman so strong, she had been literally shivering in her chair. And the scratches, only on Officer Maglione's hands and neck, where he might have struck someone who in turn had been struggling to escape, roused suspicion in Abram. There was something off about this police officer. He certainly wasn't local, and his uniform didn't exactly resemble the Philadelphia officers he'd seen either.  He should not be allowed within sight of Sofia, and certainly would not have opportunity to take her away if Abram have anything to do with it.

"You have to let me search your house, it's the law."

"This way, officer." Abram said. Not waiting for a reply, Abram started towards the room where all of the others were gathered. By giving the police officer a guided tour, that would hopefully allow Samuel enough time to not only get Sofia out of the house, but also safely hidden.

"Abram!" There was a swish of skirts as Annie came running in from the kitchen. A white splotch of flour clung to her forehead just below her kapp. "Why didn't you tell me Officer Maglione was here? Hello officer, may I offer you something to eat or drink? The Englischer girl is in the main room."

"Your husband said she'd left."

Annie burst out laughing. "Abram! He's the same age as my youngest brother. My husband is at the Deacon's meeting." Her attention turned back to Abram. "What do you mean, left? Where'd she go?"

"She said she remembered something and left with Samuel."

"And you just let her run off into the dark? With Samuel! He's not yet an adult." Annie's expression glowered with disapproval. "Abram Yoder, this is disgraceful.

"I couldn't force her to stay, Annie. It's not our way."

"You're even more rigid than Rebekah! I swear, if the pair of you had even a bit of common sense, maybe she wouldn't ha—" Annie brought her hand up to her mouth with an expression of pure horror. "I'm so sorry. Rebekah was a good and Godly woman. I would never speak ill of her."

Abram was too shocked at this revelation of how his wife had been perceived to do anything but stare. Rigid about the Ordnung? Of course he was rigid about the Ordnung. He'd taken a vow to live his life by those tenants, in order to be closer to God. There was no greater thing to strive for, in that, as much as their love for each other, him and Rebekah had been as one. He wondered what Rebekah thought, looking down on him from the next life, at his duplicity now. He hadn't lied. God had at least worked through him well enough to avoid the letter of deceit, if not the practice of it. Or was it pride to assume that God was the one guiding him? The road to sin was bricked with the justifications a man made to uphold his own image of righteousness.

Still, God had given Sofia to Abram's care, and he would not let her down.

They walked into the living room. The other members of the singing group were seated on the stools and sofas. They looked up at the Englischer police officer as he entered.

"He's here about the Englischer woman," Abram said. "The one who left with Samuel."

"Did she tell any of you where she was going?" Officer Maglione asked.

There was a round of head shaking. One of the girls said, "Samuel was flirting with her." She was tall with very sharp features and dark brown hair that made her seem more severe than her nineteen years of age. There was a hint of resentment to her tone, and her lip curled on the word "flirting" as though she wished Samuel had saved his flirting for her instead.

"I'm so sorry, Officer Maglione," Annie said. Her round cheeks were red. "I'll certainly have her call you again should she come back. Maybe she has just decided to return to her family. If any of us could get her in one of your English cars tonight, it would be Samuel. I fear he's more out of the Community than in, though as his Mamm's only son, he's reluctant to leave her all-together. Whenever you make a choice, there's always a sacrifice."

"Do you know what sort of vehicle this Samuel might be driving?"
Annie shrugged. "He's not yet been baptized, so he has no prohibition against using any vehicle he likes. He would have parked it some distance from here though, in order not to be rude. But Abram here heard that she might be going home. Poor thing had lost her memory, though maybe she's gained something back. If she finds her own way home, her family will be just as pleased as if she came in your capable hands. That would be for the best."

"Right," Officer Maglione said, but his expression was fixed, and when he spoke, there was a stress to his tone, as though his jaw was tight with some form of stress. He studied each of the remaining youths at the singing circle with calculating eyes.  When he had determined the obvious, that Sofia wasn't there, he asked to look through the rest of he house.

"Sure, if you like," Annie said. Abram stayed at the officer's side as he looked through the house. His gaze flitted to paintings and empty spaces. He even had Annie open the door to her bedroom, something that she did not make her look pleased. When he had finished his search of the house, he took his leave. At this point, the sweet smell of sugared breads had permeated the first floor. Some of the girls had taken the trays of food from the kitchen and begun to distribute them, There was laughter and more singing, as the youths hummed with excitement and speculation.

"A bit odd, that one," Annie said, once the police officer was gone. "What did he think, we'd kidnapped the poor girl?"

"Something happened to her. You saw that wound on her head, and the clothes she was wearing before were torn and she didn't have any shoes, only muddy socks," Abram said. "When she heard that police officer's voice, she was terrified."

"Why would she be scared of the police?"

"She wasn't scared of the police. She was scared of that officer specifically. That's why I asked Samuel to take her. She was so scared she was shaking."

"You think that Englischer police officer did something to her?"

"I don't know. I don't think she does either. But there's something wrong about this situation. It was as though God guided my words, when I was speaking with that officer. And maybe it's nothing, but I couldn't let her go with him, not when she was so scared."

"Humph. You really are willing to go a long way for a stranger, and an Englischer to boot."

"It's not so much. The Ordnung says that we should help others. "

"Be careful Abram," Annie said. "Even if she wasn't troubled, she would be an Englischer, and very, very young. If you're interested in finding another wife, I will be happy to help. You've lived too long alone as it is. It will be good to bring some light into your house."

"I—I don't--" How could Abram think of replacing Rebekah in his home or in his heart?

"It's just good to see you out for something other than Church meeting or the like. And this is the most alive I've seen you in a long time. I thank God for bringing the Englischer girl into your life for that. I just hope by God she is safe and will be able to return to her mamm and daed unharmed. Well," Annie corrected herself, "Having suffered no more harm. Are you going to ride home tonight, or do you think you'll need to stay over?"

"I asked Samuel to take Sofia to stay the night at my sister's. I should go also, to make sure she's comfortable."

"Comfortable, ja." Annie pursed her lips. "Be careful, Abram. You don't know this girl. She doesn't even know herself."

"Ja, danki." Abram said, thanking her.

Annie didn't let him go until he had piled her up with a take home container of cinnamon smelling friendship bread and creamed potato casserole. "Just a little something to share with Esther," she said. "You take care of yourself, ja. Take care with your heart."

It was a fair warning, Abram thought. Not that he had any expectations beyond helping the Englischer girl. The man he had been briefly, before Rebekah and his vows to the church might have been able to cross into her world, but for now, his place was here.

Food in hand, Abram walked past the room where the singing circle was still in full swing. A tremulous soprano coursed over the group, and soon the others joined in. Abram paused at the entrance, leaning against the door frame.

It as a hymn of thanksgiving that Abram had sung all through his childhood, as all of them had, and he sang it with all his heart. No matter how it all had ended, he was grateful to his bones that Rebekah had been his wife. He wished that she had stayed with him long enough for their love to have settled from the newness of passion to the steadiness of true and lasting love, bound together in the eyes of the Almighty. But Rebekah was gone, and she would not want him to mourn her forever. Abram had to move forward, not by leaving her behind, but by allowing her place in his heart to be warmed by God's light. God is love, Abram reminded himself. Yes, he would take care with his heart, but that didn't mean he should hide it. He could not make room for God unless he allowed himself to love again.

"This way," Samuel whispered in Sofia's ear, and then louder said, "Excuse us,"  followed by something in German.

Sofia could barely think beyond the beating of her heart telling her to run, run, run. The policeman's voice, the cadence of his speech, was exactly the same as the cruel man in her dream. He would take her back to that place where her nightmares lived, that place that had swallowed up the memories of her true self.

They stood, and scooted sideways between the sofa and close packed stools towards the room's second entrance, opposite the first on the far wall. From there, Samuel led her down a dark hallway and three closed doors. The Miller house was huge and sprawling. Gas lanterns hung along the walls in intervals of five paces, but none were lit. Sofia could only make their outlines from the bright triangle of light coming from behind her, where the singing circle had gathered.

Walking in the too-long skirt was awkward in the dark, and Sofia stumbled twice, but soon Samuel was turning the knob to another door and outside onto a gravel path banked by garden plants on each side. The sun was setting, painting the sky in orange and red. It was still warm, a bit hot in the dress Abram had lent her, but fear had put a cold layer of sweat on her skin. She wiped her forehead with the sleeve of the dress. Her kapp hung awkwardly a bit to the left over her loose hair, the edges touching the top of her ear. Samuel put his finger to his lips and held his hand up, motioning her to stop.

Then Samuel left her, ranging out ahead. Alone, protected only by the partial obstruction of the tomato plants winding up a latticework along the fence, Sofia squatted beside the wall of the Miller house and did her best to stay absolutely silent. Breeze rustled through the garden. A bird cried above. Terrified, Sofia hugged her arms around her chest. Did she believe in God with such an absolute certainty as the Amish people who had come to her aid? She wished she could be certain her prayers would have such power, that her faith could hold strong in the face of loss, betrayal and fear.

Dear God
, Sofia said in her mind.
I may or may not be one of your believers, but please, if you're listening, don't let him catch me.