An Amish Christmas. Patricia Davids
her racing heart slowed and her fright abated, Karen took a step closer. He was alive and standing here before her. Joy gladdened her heart. He had been in her thoughts and prayers unceasingly. It took all her willpower not to reach out and touch his face.
She said, “You opened your eyes and spoke to me. You told me you were cold. I put my coat over you.”
The sheriff released his grip on John. “She doesn’t know anything about you. I’ve already questioned her and her family. There’s no connection between you.”
A look of resignation settled over John’s features. He raised a hand to his forehead and rubbed it as if trying to rub away pain. “I’m sorry if I hurt or frightened you, Miss Imhoff. Please forgive me.”
He did not remember her holding him close. Perhaps that was for the best. She had come to the aid of a stranger, nothing more. The rest, the closeness, the connection she felt with him, those things would remain in her secret daydreams.
“You are forgiven,” she said quietly. What she didn’t understand was why he had insisted that she tell him his own name.
The sheriff looked toward the innkeeper. “Sorry for the disturbance, Emma. This is John Doe, the man found injured near here a week ago. John has amnesia.”
“What does this mean?” Karen asked, unfamiliar with the English term.
John’s eyes locked with hers. Once again she felt a stirring bond with him deep in her bones. It was suddenly hard to breathe.
He said, “It means I can’t remember anything that happened before I was hurt. Not even my own name, but I remember your face and the sound of your voice.”
Compassion drenched Karen’s heart and brought the sting of tears to her eyes. His suffering had not ended when the ambulance took him away from her.
Sheriff Bradley said, “John needs a room for a little while, Emma. He doesn’t have any ID so I came to vouch for him in person.”
Emma said, “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything available for a week. I just rented my last room an hour ago. You know the quilt auction begins tomorrow. It runs for several days, and then there is the Sutter wedding. By next Friday I will have a room.”
Clearly upset with himself, Nick said, “I’m sorry, John. I should have called ahead. They aren’t normally booked up here. I know you had your heart set on staying in Hope Springs. I didn’t even think about the auction being this week. I’ll take you back to Millersburg. We can find a place for you there.”
“We have a room to let.” Karen’s desire to help John overrode her normally good sense. He was a stranger lost in a strange land. He needed her help today as much as he’d needed it the day she found him.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. Karen bit the corner of her lip. What had she done? She should have discussed this with her father first, but she had already made the offer and couldn’t withdraw it.
When she explained things her father would realize the benefits of this additional income. Especially after she had failed to get the teaching job.
Their family’s income had been severely limited following her father’s injury a month earlier. A farrier couldn’t shoe horses with his arm in a cast. There were still medical bills that needed to be paid in addition to their everyday expenses.
She would point out all those things, but she knew he would not be pleased if she brought this man and his English trouble into their house.
She fidgeted under John’s unwavering gaze. Finally, he said, “Your farm was the first place I had planned to visit when I arrived. Renting a room there makes sense.”
“For a week,” she stressed. “After that, Emma will have a place for you here.”
“It seems you’ve come to my rescue once again.” He held out his hand to seal the deal and gave her a crooked grin. It deepened the lines that bracketed his mouth, lending him a boyish charm.
With only a brief hesitation, she accepted his hand. Her pulse skipped a beat then pounded erratically as her small hand was swallowed by his large, warm one. It wasn’t soft, it was calloused and rough like the hand of a man who worked outdoors for a living. A blush heated her cheeks, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.
She remembered him so clearly. The shape of his brow and the stone-gray color of his eyes, even the way the stubble of his beard had felt beneath her fingers. She remembered, too, the husky sound of his voice when he had told her she was beautiful.
Something light and sweet slipped through her veins. An echo of a time when she’d been a giddy teenager smitten with a local boy. A time before she’d had to become a surrogate mother to her younger siblings and put her girlhood dreams away.
Thoughts of the children brought her back to earth with a thud. She pulled her hand away from John. This man was an outsider and thus forbidden to her. She had offered him a room to rent for a week and nothing more. Her strange fascination with him had to stop, and quickly.
Gesturing toward the door, she said, “I must get home.”
He said, “I don’t have any sort of transportation. May I hitch a ride with you?”
Oh, Dat really wasn’t going to like this, but what could she do? She gave a stiff smile. “Of course.”
Emma asked quietly, “Karen, are you sure about this?”
Pretending a bravery she didn’t feel, Karen answered, “Yes. Goodbye, cousin, I will see you at Katie’s wedding next Thursday.”
Emma didn’t look happy, but she nodded. “Give Onkel Eli my best.”
John shook hands with the sheriff, who promised to check up on him soon, and then followed Karen out the door. Her nervousness increased tenfold as he fell into step beside her.
He was taller than she thought he would be. She had been called a beanpole all her life, but he stood half a head taller than she did. She felt delicate next to his big frame. It was a strange feeling. Spending the next half hour in this man’s company in the close confines of her buggy might prove to be awkward.
After unlatching Molly’s lead from the hitching rail, Karen was surprised when John took her elbow to help her climb in the buggy. She was used to taking care of herself and everyone else. It had been a long time since someone had wanted to take care of her.
John walked slowly around the front of the horse. Raising a hand, he patted the mare’s neck and made a soothing sound as he cast a critical eye over the animal. “She’s got good conformation. She’s a Standardbred, right?”
“Ja. You know about horses?”
“I think I do.” He scratched Molly under the earpiece of her headstall. The mare tipped her head and rubbed against his hand in horsy bliss.
It seemed he could charm horses as well as foolish Amish maids. She said, “We must be going.”
He nodded and climbed into the buggy beside her. Karen turned the horse and sent her trotting briskly down the street. The fast clatter of Molly’s hooves matched almost exactly the rapid pounding of Karen’s heart. It was going to be a long ride home.
Clucking her tongue, she slapped the reins against Molly’s rump, making the mare go faster. The sooner they reached the farm, the better.
Karen’s skin prickled at John’s nearness. He had been in her thoughts and prayers constantly since that day. The special connection she’d felt between them had not diminished. She had wondered who he was and if he had gotten better. She’d wondered, too, if he had a wife to care for him. She had prayed he wasn’t alone.
Now, he had come back to her.
He had been helpless as a babe that day, a man in need of tender care. The vibrant man beside her now was anything but helpless. What had she been thinking to invite him into her