An Amish Christmas. Patricia Davids
then left the community, all would shun him. She would have to shun him.
He didn’t seem to notice her concern. “The sheriff did discuss that possibility.”
Dismissing the idea as unacceptable, she said, “You don’t speak or understand our language. Surely you could not forget the tongue you grew up with.”
He shrugged. “Who would think I could forget my own name? As far as I’m concerned anything is possible.”
Racking her mind for local families with members who’d strayed, she quickly came up with several. In their tight-knit community, she was sure she knew all the young men who’d left. The only one close to John’s age would have been Isaac Troyer’s son who left almost ten years ago. He looked nothing like John. The others she could think of who had left the community were much younger men and a few young women.
There were at least three families who had moved into the area recently. If they had members leave the faith before coming to this church district she didn’t know about them.
In less than a quarter of a mile, they reached the lane of another farm. John turned the horse onto the narrow road. Karen said, “When we get to the bishop’s house, you should stay in the buggy.”
“Why?”
“So that I may speak privately to Bishop Zook and ask if he can assist you.”
“And if he says no?” John’s tone carried a hint of annoyance.
“Bishop Zook is a wise and much-respected man. If you have his permission to speak to the members of our church it will open many doors that might otherwise be closed to you.”
John relented. “All right. I’ll follow your lead.”
“Goot.” She nodded her satisfaction.
Driving the buggy up to the front of the house, he drew the mare to a stop. Before Karen could step out, Joseph Zook walked out of the house toward her.
“Guder mariye, Karen,” he called cheerfully. “What brings you here today?”
“Good morning, Bishop. I have brought someone to meet you. This is John Doe, the man who was found unconscious beside our lane.”
Concern furrowed the minister’s brow. “I have heard the story. I am glad to see that you are recovered, Mr. Doe.”
“I’m not quite recovered, sir.” John touched the bandage on the side of his head. “I have no memory of my past. I’m hoping that you can help me.”
“I am sorry for your injury, but how can I help?”
“Do you recognize me? Have you ever seen me before?”
The bishop studied him intently then said, “Nee, I have not.”
Karen could feel John’s disappointment in the slump of his body beside her. She addressed the bishop. “John wishes to speak to members of our church to see if anyone knows him or knows something about him.”
The bishop studied Karen intently. He switched to Pennsylvania Dutch. “You must be careful, Karen. To become involved in this outsider business is not a good thing.”
She bowed her head slightly. “How can helping an injured man be a bad thing? I feel that this is what God wants me to do.”
“Be sure it is God’s will you are seeking, Karen, and not your own.”
“I will heed your advice, Bishop.”
The bishop turned his attention back to John and spoke in English. “You may speak to members of our church if they wish it also. I will pray that you find the answers you seek, young man.”
Karen watched the bishop walk away. She had been warned. Her support for John must be limited and above reproach. She reached for the reins but John ignored her outstretched hand, turning the horse easily in the yard and sending her down the lane.
Karen put the bishop’s warning behind her. “You have driven a buggy many times.”
“Maybe I’m just a fast learner.”
“Perhaps.” Her spirits sank lower. How many English knew how to drive a buggy? Not many. It seemed more likely that her earlier assumption was correct. John had been raised Plain.
If he had left the church before his baptism, he would be accepted by most of the Amish in her community. If, on the other hand, he had rejected the church after baptism he would be considered an outcast until he made a full confession before the congregation.
She glanced at him once more. How could a man confess his sins if he had no memory of them? He looked happy at the moment driving Molly along at a steady pace. The cold rain had stopped and the sun peeked out. Up ahead on the road, Henry Zook, the bishop’s youngest son, was traveling to market in his farm wagon. John slowed Molly to follow behind him. When the way was clear and free of traffic, he sent Molly high stepping around the wagon.
When the mare drew level with the other horses she suddenly picked up her pace eager to get in front of them.
“You’ve got some speed, Molly girl,” John called to the horse.
Instead of letting the mare keep her fast pace, he reined her in and grinned at Karen. “I’d love to let her go and see just how much she’s got.”
“Why don’t you?” she asked, hoping to hear the right answer.
He shook his head. “No, she has too many miles to haul us yet. It wouldn’t be kind to wear her out on a joyride.”
Looking straight ahead, Karen smiled inwardly. “Whatever you have done in your past life, you care about animals. You can add it to your list of things you have discovered about yourself.”
“Now if I can only locate a pencil sharpener,” he added drily.
“What?” She tipped her head to stare at him in confusion.
“Never mind. Where to next?”
“Up ahead is the farm of Elam Sutter. He and some of his family moved here from Pennsylvania almost two years ago. Elam is getting married next week.”
Twisting in the seat, she grasped his arm as excitement rippled though her mind. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. It makes perfect sense.”
“What makes perfect sense?”
“Perhaps you were coming for the wedding. Elam’s fiancée, Katie Lantz, lived out in the world for several years. She knows many English. That must be it.”
* * *
John tried not to get his hopes up but Karen’s excitement was contagious. He asked, “Why didn’t they report me as missing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they weren’t sure when you would arrive. Maybe your coming was a surprise for them.”
He wanted to believe her scenarios but he was growing used to disappointment. Still, his palms began to sweat. “We will see soon enough.”
As they rolled into the yard, John saw four other buggies lined up beside the barn. He drew Molly to stop in front of the house.
Karen withdrew a large box from the back of the buggy. John took it from her and followed her to the front door. He was surprised when she didn’t knock but went right in. The spacious kitchen was filled to overflowing with enticing smells of baking and the happy chatter of a half dozen women engaged in cleaning and polishing every surface in the house.
The oldest woman in the room came forward drying her hands on her white apron. With a bright smile on her face, she said, “Karen, how nice to see you.”
Karen said, “I’ve brought some of my mother’s best bowls and platters for you to use at the wedding, Nettie.”
“Wonderful. They will come in handy. I’ve forgotten how much work it