Lancaster County Reckoning. Kit Wilkinson
would stress or strain his system more.”
“Can I see him?”
“Of course you can,” he said. “Anytime you like.”
Darcy nodded. “How about now?”
“He’s in the ICU,” Blake said. “Room 11.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” She started toward the door, but turned back to them. “Thomas, may I join you and your friends at Jesse’s later today? I’d like to help clean up.”
“You would be most welcome,” Thomas answered with a nod.
Blake and Thomas watched her move away toward the elevators.
“Why don’t you go home and get some rest?” Blake put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder.
“I was going to say the same to you.” Thomas tried to muster a smile but the heaviness on his heart wouldn’t allow it. “You are working yourself too hard, Blake, but thank you. Thank you for fighting so hard for my friend. I know you are doing all you can to help Jesse.”
“He’s a tough old bird,” Blake said. “But he was beaten up like I’ve rarely seen. And I’ve seen more than a fair share of beatings working in the ER.”
Thomas shut his eyes as he thought of the state they had found the old man in. The pain he must have been in. At least now Jesse could not feel the pain. He could be thankful to God for that.
“It’s good you found him when you did,” Blake continued. “Without blood and other fluids, I don’t think he would have lasted much longer...”
“Then he must live,” said Thomas. “And I pray that he does. Even apart from his value to the community and to me, it would be so sad for his daughter to lose him now, when she only just found him again.”
Blake’s eyes looked intrigued under the shadow of exhaustion. “What do you think of Miss Simmons?”
Darcy Simmons? Heat rose to Thomas’s cheeks as he remembered the feel of her soft hand and the way her long brown waves framed her sweet face. “I—I think she is scared and confused. And...I think she is in a lot of danger.”
* * *
Darcy stayed with Jesse for most of the morning. He looked so small and weak and old, lying there lifeless in the hospital bed, with tubes running in and out of him. The nurses said he was blessed to be alive. But he hardly looked it.
She wished he would wake up. She had so many questions. She no longer believed anything her grandparents had told her as a child about her parents. Was her mother really killed in a car crash? Why had Jesse started a life with the Amish? It was clear from all the photos of the past that Jesse had not been born Amish. Why hadn’t he stayed in the non-Amish world and raised her? Or at least taken her with him?
There had to be reasons for his choices. There had to be something that caused him to choose this path—a path that had not included her in his life. She tried not to let her questions and confusion cause anger toward her grandparents. But it was hard not to feel betrayed by them and all the lies. She’d probably be upset with Jesse, too, except that he looked so helpless lying there all but lifeless in the hospital bed.
Please wake up, Jesse. Please tell me what happened. Tell me who did this to you and what they want.
Darcy hated to leave Jesse but she was determined to get to the cottage and help clean up. Maybe, just maybe, there would be something there that would tell her more about her father—or at least give her a clue as to who was after him. And now her.
Darcy called a close friend and colleague who was kind enough to use a spare key to her town house and deliver a change of clothes and her makeup bag to the hospital. After breakfast, Darcy felt revived with a clean suit, fresh makeup and some food in her belly. She headed out to Willow Trace, driving through the beautiful back roads of Lancaster County. Her friend had asked her lots of questions when dropping off the clothes, which Darcy had answered merely by saying that a close family member was in a coma and she’d be away from work until further notice. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be long. Funny, though, she thought as she passed an Amish man driving a horse-drawn buggy that was moving at a snail’s pace compared to her, how time seemed to move slower here. Even with all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
When Darcy drove up in front of the cottage, there were already several Amish buggies parked in front. And there was Thomas. He was seated on the front porch, head down, a large book in his hand.
“Good morning,” she said.
He looked up at her. “Good day, Miss Simmons. You look all cleaned up and fancy.”
Heat rose to Darcy’s cheeks. She looked down at her designer suit. “I guess it’s a little dressy for cleaning.”
“We are just finishing up,” Thomas said. “It is time for lunch.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry. I should have come earlier.” Darcy was truly disappointed. She had really wanted to help. She had wanted to be a part of this. She had wanted to see Jesse’s home and feel closer to him and his friends. The wave of emotions made Darcy shift her weight over her heels. Life had taught her that depending on anyone made her vulnerable to getting hurt. She couldn’t allow herself to get attached to Thomas or the others in this community just because they were being kind. Maybe she should have just stayed at the hospital.
Thomas stood, folding the book closed. A Bible, from the looks of it, which he tucked under his elbow. “Come. There are people who would like to meet you.”
She followed him into the small living space, which was all tidied up. There were two women inside, along with Elijah, Thomas’s friend whom she had met at the hospital, and one other elderly man. All of them were Amish.
The two women were dressed similarly in homespun dresses, dark aprons and thin white caps set over their hair, which was parted straight down the middle, then tucked up and hidden away in a tight nest on the back of the neck. Darcy felt awkward in her stylish pantsuit and heels. But the ladies didn’t seem to pay her or her clothes any mind. They were all smiles, happily humming as they finished their work.
“Miss Simmons, how is Jesse?” Elijah asked as he approached her. “Any change?”
“No,” Darcy said, shaking her head. “Though that’s not necessarily a sign of trouble. Dr. Jamison said he didn’t expect there would be any change today. And he is stable. So that is good.”
“We will hold a prayer gathering for him,” the older of the women said as she turned to her. She was completely gray headed but had the same warm golden-brown eyes as Thomas. “I am Nana Ruth, Thomas’s grandmother. You must be Miss Darcy. I think it is wunderlich that Jesse has a daughter. I just—”
“Nana...” Thomas glared at the old woman.
“Ach, Thomas.” Nana held her nose up defiantly to her grandson, who towered over her by more than a foot.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Nolt.” Darcy offered her hand to Thomas’s grandmother.
“Just call me Nana. Everyone does. And this is Hannah, Elijah’s wife.”
“Nice to meet you,” Darcy said to the other woman, who was close to herself in age. Elijah’s wife had flawless skin, shimmering green eyes and a look of genuine sympathy in her expression.
“They were teenage sweethearts,” Nana explained. “Reunited by—”
“Nana,” Thomas interrupted again, this time whispering something to her in their Germanic language.
Again the old woman dismissed Thomas’s unsolicited guidance with a wave of her hand. “I was just going to invite her to the prayer gathering.”
A change in subject was definitely in order. “Wow. This place looks great,” Darcy interjected. She didn’t want to be rude to the woman who had worked so hard to clean Jesse’s home and who had been so