know about her, anyway? Maybe coming here had been a mistake. He would proceed with caution until he knew more about her and her family.
She watched him silently. As their eyes met, he read sympathy in their depths. Turning away he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. The pain overrode the sting of unshed tears. He didn’t want sympathy. He wanted answers.
John didn’t know how long he stood staring into the distance. Eventually, Molly grew impatient and began pawing the ground. He glanced at Karen. She drew her coat tight under her chin. He realized the sun was going down and it was getting colder.
Walking back to the buggy, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting so long.”
She smiled softly. “I don’t mind, but I think Molly wants her grain.”
“Then we should go.” Walking around to the opposite side he climbed in.
“Did you remember anything?” she asked.
“No.” He stared straight ahead as his biggest fear slithered from the dark corner of his mind into the forefront. What if he never remembered? What if this blankness was all he’d ever have?
No, he refused to accept that. He had family, friends, a job, a home, a car, a credit card, a bank account, something that proved he existed. His life was out there waiting for him. He wouldn’t give up until he found it.
When they reached the farmyard, Karen drew the mare to a stop in front of a two-story white house. A welcoming porch with crisp white railings and wide steps graced the front. Three large birdhouses sat atop poles around the yard ringed with flowerbeds. Along one side of the house several clotheslines sagged under the weight of a dozen pairs of pants, dresses, shirts, socks and sheets all waving in the cool evening breeze.
Across a wide expanse of grass stood a large red barn and several outbuildings. In the corral, a pair of enormous caramel-colored draft horses munched on a round hay bale with a dozen smaller horses around them. Molly whinnied to announce her return. The herd replied in kind.
John swallowed hard against the pain in his chest. What did his home look like? Was someone waiting to greet him? Were they worried sick about where he was? If that was the case, why hadn’t they come forward?
Something of what he was thinking must have shown on his face. Karen laid her hand on his. The warmth of her touch flooded through him.
Sympathy had prompted Karen’s move. She saw and understood the struggle he was going through. “Let God be your solace, John. He understands all that you are going through. You are not alone.”
John nodded, but didn’t speak.
Karen turned to get out of the buggy but froze. Her stern-faced father stood before her. He looked from Johnto Karen and demanded, “What is the meaning of this, daughter?”
Stepping down from the buggy, she brushed the wrinkles from the front of her dress. “Papa, this is Mr. John Doe. John, this is my father, Eli Imhoff. Papa, I have rented a room to Mr. Doe.”
Eli Imhoff’s dark bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You have, have you?”
Karen had learned the best way to handle her father was to charge straight ahead. She switched to Pennsylvania Dutch, the German dialect normally spoken in Amish homes, knowing John would not be able to understand them. “I will show him to his room and then I will speak with you about this.”
“Better late than never, I’m thinking,” Eli replied in the same language.
“I’m sure you’ll agree this was a goot idea. You know we need the money. The dawdy haus is sitting empty. This is only for a week, and he is paying us the same amount that Emma charges her customers.”
“And if I say nee? ”
She acquiesced demurely. “Then I shall drive him back to town. Although Emma has no room for him at her inn I’m sure he can find someplace to stay.”
John spoke up. “Look, if this is a problem I can make other arrangements.”
Karen crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow as she
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