Dark Crossings Read online

  She lugged her load of walnuts back once more. Now, where had she put those extra hemp sacks? Because this one had a tear in it. She saw Ben’s truck was parked at his place now, but she didn’t see him outside. At least if he glanced or came over—which she hoped for, but wasn’t expecting—he’d surely see that she was out in the open and not taking risks. Even when she next cut the branches of bittersweet growing along the old road that led to the bridge, she would be in a clearing. Ach, how she hated to have to fret for her safety now. Fret not, it warned in the book of Psalms. That only causes harm.

  The diamond thief had ruined everything, and she sure hoped it wasn’t Ben. She couldn’t believe he would steal. But he’d had enough money for his land, house and planned remodeling. And he’d suddenly fled back here when he was surely doing well away. She could see why he hadn’t told her that people thought he might be guilty, though.

  Toting two large, empty baskets on her next trip down the old road, Abby crunched through the carpet of leaves as others blew around her. After she was done, she’d be tempted to go back for those wood ears near the spot where she’d seen the deer. She took out her knife and began to cut bouquets of the red-orange berries along the narrow road. Foliage on both sides, including lots of tall weeds, choked the former route, almost making it a mere pathway.

  Why was bittersweet given its name? she wondered, examining the vibrant berries close up. She’d never tasted them to see if they were bitter. Or maybe it was named for the time of year. The berries bloomed in a glorious burst, but soon dried. Bittersweet—that’s how she thought of her relationship with Ben now.

  The leaves rustled loudly in the breeze. Was the weather going to change?

  She froze, the new-cut branches in her hand, a nearly full basket at her feet. The rhythmic sound grew closer. Footsteps? Hoping it was Ben, she spun around, only to scream in horror. A man, or a tall person at least, appeared wearing a big hempen bag—the one she’d left outside at the house?—like a loose garment. More hemp covered his head like a hood. There were slits for his eyes and nose, and the fabric was tied at his neck like a scarecrow. He was coming straight at her, with her own spade in his gloved hands. And he was swinging it before him as if he was reaping grain with a scythe.

  Grasping only her small cutting knife, Abby ran. She tore down the road at first, but heard him behind her. Picking up her skirts to her knees, she veered into the forest for a shortcut home. Whoever it was, she had to know this area better than he did.

  Thank heavens, she heard him fall and grunt. But still she was terrified she wasn’t going to make it home in time. Someone was after her in broad daylight. But why? Who?

  Even if she made it back into her yard, it would take her a while to get the key out from under the rock where she kept it. Her pursuer could easily catch her and hit her with that spade. There was no time to hang something in the trees—no time for Ben to come. Maybe it was Burt Commons. That looked like the spade she’d taken with her to confront him. Surely not Elam! And the diamond thief had what he wanted, didn’t he?

  She heard the person running again. If she beat this monster out of the forest, she could shout for Ben and run across the bridge. But would she make it? Her heart was pounding, she was nearly breathless, and she felt a stitch in her side. Daring a quick look back, hearing but not seeing her pursuer, Abby made a desperate decision.

  When she neared the hollow log, she hit the ground and belly crawled into its depths, lying there, panting and praying. If he had seen her, she was trapped. The little knife she held would be useless against the blade of that spade.

  She tried not to breathe so hard. It was filthy in here, with slugs and crawling things. She was so tensed up that her calf muscle cramped, and tears ran down her cheeks at the pain. But she stayed silent.

  At first, her haven muted outside sounds, but then she heard his footsteps again in the dead leaves. Close. Very close. Then stopping.

  She sucked in a big breath when he passed by the end of the log, hesitated, then turned, evidently looking around. She could see he wore old running shoes and worn jeans under the hemp sack. He must have taken that sack from her garden. Maybe he’d been watching her for a long time. She willed Ben to come looking for her before this man—he was pretty thin, like Burt Commons or Elam—could find her hiding place.

  She jumped when something hit the log. The spade? Dust, dirt and bugs rained down on her. She shut her eyes and jammed her finger under her nose so she wouldn’t sneeze. Had he figured out where she’d disappeared to? Was he going to chop into the wood to get to her? Maybe he’d peeked inside and seen her feet.

  But, blessedly, he walked away. She couldn’t see him, even peering out the little crack in the log, but she heard his footsteps scuffing through the leaves, then fading. Or was that a trick? Though she wanted to crawl out and bolt—if she could even run on her cramped leg—she stayed put, catching her breath, trying to build her courage.

  But it was anger that roiled through her. How dare someone invade the places of her heart—her home, garden and woods, even the bridge the other night! Who hated her that much to make her want to cower and suffer? What had she done?

  Trying to flex her sore leg, she lay there for what she judged was about a half hour before she crawled forward and stuck her head out. What if he was waiting for her near or even in her house? If she saw Ben’s truck was still at his place, she was going to head straight for the bridge and run across it to him.

  As she limped past her house, she saw her hemp sacks thrown atop the tall pile of logs with her crop of turkey tails, the spade thrust into them. Worst of all, a piece of paper had been punched over the handle and now flapped in the breeze. Abby could clearly make out the large, crudely printed words in Deutsch and English: Raus Jetzt! Get out!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ONCE AGAIN Abby ran to Ben. A fleeting thought crossed her mind—that the Lord kept throwing them together despite Amish law that they must keep apart. And she needed Ben now again, desperately.

  She rushed to the rear door of his house so she couldn’t be seen from across the river. Someone must have hiked into the woods behind her house. Getting a car over there was nearly impossible, and the bridge was too rickety to take such a heavy weight. The old road could be approached from behind only by a roundabout drive from town.

  Abby pounded on his back door with both fists. He opened it with a large, half-carved piece of wood in his hand. She threw herself into his arms.

  Though she slammed into him, at first he didn’t budge. Then he dropped the piece of wood. As she pressed herself against him, her cheek to his chest, he closed his arms hard around her. He pulled her inside and slammed the door, leaning back against it. She heard only her ragged breathing and his heart beating hard.

  “What happened?” he whispered, his chin atop her head as he clamped her full length to him, her hips pressed to his, her breasts flattened against his chest.

  “A man draped in a hemp sack with a hemp mask—gloves—chasing me. Swinging my spade like he wanted to cut me down.”

  Ben’s body tensed. “Did he follow you across the bridge?”

  “No. Chased me down the road beyond the bridge and through the forest. I hid in a hollow log. When I ran home, I saw he’d left me a note in the garden that said get out. In Deutsch and English!”

  Ben squeezed her tighter, then tipped her back to look down into her eyes. She realized she was smudged with dirt from the hollow
log, but that hardly mattered. His intense gaze made her light-headed. Her knees nearly buckled, but his legs were strong and firm against her quaking ones as he propped her up.

  “You stay here,” he said. “I’ll go over and look around. Is your house locked?”

  “Ja, but who knows what he’s done? Ben, I will not just leave my house and garden at harvest time and run like a rabbit, though I guess that’s just what I did. I know I can’t stay here, but—”

  “We’re going to lock you in right now. I’ll just look around over there and bring the threatening note back for evidence. You’ve got to get help from the sheriff. He said he’d be away the rest of the day, but back tomorrow. First thing in the morning, I’ll follow you into town. I have a meeting with Bishop Esh and the church elders set up then.”

  “That’s great. But what about tonight?”

  “When I get back from checking your place, we’ll talk, decide whether this is aimed at you—or at me.”

  “At you? You think it might be Burt Commons? He threatened both of us. Maybe he’s picking on me to get to you? Or it could be Elam Garber.”

  “So he was the one you turned down? If it’s Elam, the bishop can deal with him better than the sheriff, though I don’t want to see anyone put under the bann.”

  “But taking that diamond from my bedroom doesn’t seem like something either Burt or Elam would or could do. Commons wasn’t even around then. It has to be someone else.”

  “Would you just listen?” Ben demanded, suddenly sounding angry, almost desperate. “That’s what we need to talk about. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  But still he seemed to be clinging to her. She hugged him again, her arms around his back, his clasping her waist.

  “Now you listen to me,” she told him. “If there’s someone over there, don’t get into a fight—not for me.”

  He lifted one hand to tip her chin up so she was looking straight into his eyes. “I’m in a fight for you already, a fight with myself,” he whispered. “Stay put now, make yourself at home, and I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded, making the hand clasping her chin bounce. But he didn’t pull away, didn’t leave. Then it happened, just as she’d dreamed of so many times.

  He lowered his lips to hers, slowly, as if to give her time to turn her head or back away. It was as if they were merely taking a taste of each other, but things turned crazy wild as he took her mouth, again and again. She tilted her head so their noses didn’t bump. Their mouths fit perfectly, slanted sideways, open and so needy and natural. Nothing mattered but his touch and kiss. She clung to him to stop the swaying of the world.

  He pulled back before she wanted him to, setting her away at arm’s length as if she had burned him. “My fault,” he said, breathless. “I wanted that—and you. Lock yourself in and watch out the windows….”

  He glanced through the kitchen window himself, as if he were being chased, then banged out the back door, picked up a piece of firewood and hurried toward the bridge.

  * * *

  FRIGHTENED FOR BEN’S SAFETY, Abby kept her nose glued to the side windows for at least a quarter of an hour. Only when she saw him striding back across the bridge did she think to wet a paper towel and wash her face and hands. She finally glanced around his large, wood-paneled living area with its dominating, raised stone hearth. This old place needed work, a woman’s touch, but it suited his needs.

  On the big table and two end tables, and on two of the three chairs, lay various types of wood, tools, sandpaper and jars of stains. And displayed in a corner cabinet were four completed boxes, with their satin finishes and creature carvings so real they looked as if they could take flight or swim through the waves….

  She let him in the front door.

  “You didn’t bring the note back,” she said.

  “It wasn’t there, nor your hemp sacks, or any kind of mask. Though I saw your spade leaning against the back door, neatly stowed next to your hoe and broom.”

  She stamped her foot in frustration. “In other words, things are just as if it never happened, as if I’d made it up.”

  “Abby, I didn’t mean that. Though if I thought you were creating dangers just to run into my arms, that would be fine with me… I’m kidding. But this is no kidding matter.”

  “My enemy is very tidy,” she mused as she looked back across the river through the side windows. “He arranges things nicely, whether he’s making diamonds or pieces of paper disappear.”

  “Let’s sit at the kitchen table. I need to explain some things before you go to the sheriff and I see the bishop. This has gone too far.”

  She nodded, but hoped he didn’t mean too far between the two of them.

  * * *

  BEN FELT REALLY NERVOUS. He hoped he wasn’t dooming Abby if the Amish learned she was in close contact with someone under the meidung. And he was finally going to tell her the truth about what had happened in Cincinnati. He had hoped to keep her admiration for him building, but he had to protect her at all costs. He had admitted everything to the sheriff and the bishop, but somehow, confessing all this to Abby was going to be worse.

  He poured two cups of reheated coffee and plunked down a plate of glazed doughnuts he’d bought in town. “This is nothing like your delicious food,” he said, trying to keep his voice light and his spirits strong. “And sorry, but not a mushroom in sight.”

  She took a sip of her coffee and stared at him over the edge of her cup. He wanted to vault over the table to hold and kiss her again. She seemed watchful, maybe distrustful of what was coming. Such a bright, beautiful woman, and here he was probably going to blow it all.

  “Abby, I haven’t told you everything about my life in the world, though Sheriff Freeman knows and I explained things to Bishop Esh. One reason I came back here was that I lost my job in Cincinnati. Someone robbed the store where I worked of a fortune in gems and jewelry, and the owners and police there decided it was an inside job, meaning someone on the staff—”

  “I know what that means.” Wide-eyed, she put her coffee cup down with a clink. “So they are blaming you?”

  “I’m under suspicion, still under surveillance by the police and an insurance investigator.”

  “Then it’s them!”

  “I’m not sure. Abby, I vow to you, I had nothing to do with it. Unfortunately, I had been in the store earlier that night to drop off some boxes they needed the next morning. I had been given the security code, which I punched in. Although I left without touching a thing I shouldn’t, I was the last one in there before the theft. My fingerprints were here and there, and some of my boxes were used by the thief or thieves to carry out their loot. And just a couple of days before, I’d watched one of the owners, Mrs. Tornelli, get into the safe, so they thought I could have seen the combination.”

  Abby looked both angry and sad. “I see. I guess they don’t get it—that even though you left the Amish, you would tell the truth.”

  “Thanks for that, but I’m not done. I think Mrs. Tornelli—Triana—told the police detective and the insurance investigator to keep an eye on me, even here.”

  “So that has to be it! The arguing on the bridge, the lost diamond carefully taken back. Maybe the detective and investigator were watching you that night I heard the voices. They got angry I shone a light on them, and took off.”

  He thought it unlikely. But he might as well get everything out, and then let the chips fall where they may. He took a swig of lukewarm co
ffee and interrupted whatever she was going to say next with, “There’s more.”

  Abby sucked in a sharp breath, then just stared at him, her lush lower lip quivering.

  “This is going to sound prideful,” he told her, “but Triana Tornelli came on to me, and—”

  “Came on to you? Came here, you mean?”

  “No. She tried to seduce me—suggested we have an affair, a secret lovers’ meeting without her husband knowing it, and I turned her down. We were not lovers. She held some power over me, and I needed her goodwill, but—”

  “Ben,” Abby said, reaching across the table to cover his clenched hands with one of hers, “I have a confession, too. I got on a computer in the library bookmobile and saw the Tornellis’ picture.”

  She looked as if she’d just confessed to a mass murder. Despite his own grief, he had to bite his lower lip to keep from smiling. How genuine and generous his people were, and he’d had to jump the fence, then return, to realize it. Open, honest, Abigail was more precious than pearls to him.

  “You did?” was all he could manage at first, since his voice had choked up. “But were you going to ask or say something more about her—her and me?”

  “Ben, I believe you. You think I don’t get it, after all the times I hung around, that she could want to do more than kiss you? But the thing is, if she did get those investigators after you, was it because you turned her down or because she’s wanting you to take the blame for whoever took their expensive stuff? It has to be someone else who worked there that stole the jewelry!”

  Abby leaned across the table as if there were others around to hear, and lowered her voice. “I also looked at the prices for jewelry on their website—sky-high, completely crazy costs. But we now have some other possibilities for who dropped the diamond and then stole it back. Can that female insurance person afford diamond earrings?”