An Amish Man of Ice Mountain (The Amish of Ice Mountain Series Book 2) (8 page)

Joseph stared at them all, feeling Priscilla directly behind his back. “Are you spying on us?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes!” Hollie squealed, breaking the silence, and everyone laughed. Joseph turned back to Priscilla, wondering what she’d think of his
narrisch Amisch
family. But she was smiling, a gentle smile that softened her lips and made him want to make her happy for as long as he was able. He set his jaw, but the thought lingered like the mountain mist, tantalizing and mysterious.
Happy for always
.

Chapter Thirteen

The following day Priscilla realized that she was finding her feet amongst the warm
Amischers
and felt brave enough to take the path that Mary said led to the makeshift post office at the Kauffmans’ store—the only store on the mountain, set roughly in the middle of the sprawl of cabin homes. She brushed a bit nervously at her pink button-down shirt before she mounted the steps of the building, already seeing the curious eyes staring from the large storefront windows
. I wonder if I should ask Mary about wearing Amisch dress . . . maybe I’d be less conspicuous.
But it was too late now and she entered the store, catching the pleasant smells of spices, fresh-cut wood, and leather all mingled together in a comforting blend. The scents allowed her to focus on her steps through the small groups of women and men; some who smiled with open good will. Priscilla eyed the dry goods and fabrics with a longing eye—she loved to sew.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A large, jolly-looking
Amisch
man in a yellow shirt and dark pants spoke to her from behind one of the wooden counters. “I’m Ben Kauffman. I run the place.”

Priscilla smiled. “I need stamps, please.”

“Surely,” Ben boomed out. “A book of them?”

“Yes, please.”

She’d completed the transaction with faint relief, feeling as if she’d passed a test of some kind, when Ben called to her as she turned to go.

“Uh, ma’am?”

She turned back. “Priscilla, please.”

Ben nodded. “
Jah
, Priscilla. I know you’re going to the Lyons’ and past Joseph’s
haus
. I’ve got a package for him that’s been sitting awhile. Will you take it?”

“Of course.” She accepted the rather bulky manila envelope with another smile and escaped the store to the relative comfort of the forest path outside.

She glanced down at the package wryly as she walked. It gave her a reason to see Joseph, but she doubted he’d appreciate it, not after the way he’d wanted to get away from her in the shed.
He probably thinks I’m a fast woman . . . unclean . . . while he’s been so good and kind and pure.
She missed noticing the tree root in front of her completely and fell flat on the ground, the package slipping from her hands. She lifted her head, struggling to breathe for a moment, as a beam of sunlight shot through the trees and illuminated the photos that had spilled from the ruptured envelope onto a background of green moss. Priscilla blinked, wondering if she’d hit her head, as she stared at the mass of images splayed before her in stark relief. She lifted the edge of a single photo and drew it nearer. She caught her breath—it was Joseph, looking younger and brooding, and completely naked as he lay among the tangled sheets and quilts of a large bed . . .

 

 

“Where’s Priscilla?” Joseph kept his voice casual as he spoke to his sister. He’d worked it out during a relatively sleepless night that he would obey Bishop Umble’s suggestion and begin to meet with Priscilla to pray with her.
No matter what else I may feel ...

“She offered to go to the post office at Kauffman’s for me,” Mary said with a smile as she put down the heavy clothes iron and wiped her brow with her apron.

“Let me iron,” Joseph said roughly. “You should be sitting.”

She laughed. “For the next two months? Not much would get done around here. Don’t worry so much, Joseph. I’m fine and your niece or nephew is too.”

He grunted and turned to catch Hollie as she ran and flung herself at him. The little girl was clad in an
Amisch
dress of butter yellow and had her golden hair braided in a thick knot at the back of her small head.

“Joseph! Look . . . Miss Mary gave me an
Amisch
dress. Don’t I look pretty?”

He smiled. “
Jah
, you’re a beauty for sure. Has your
mamm
seen?” He set the little girl down on the floor and met Mary’s gaze. “Did you do her hair too?”

“
Jah
. . . I think Priscilla will like it. She told me her
mamm
was
Amisch
once and—” She broke off as the front door quietly opened.

Priscilla entered, looking flushed and out of sorts. She ducked her head when Joseph moved to greet her and quickly crossed the room to hand Mary the stamps.

“What’s wrong?” Joseph asked.

She turned in his direction but still did not lift her head, letting the heavy fall of her hair hide her face from him.

“Mommy! Look at my dress!”

Joseph watched her absently pat Hollie’s head, and then she mumbled an excuse and made for the spare bedroom. The door closed quietly behind her.

Joseph looked at his sister, who shrugged with concern. “Should I talk to her, Joseph?”

“What’s wrong with Mommy?” Hollie asked plaintively.

“I’ll talk with her,” Joseph said.
Now is as
gut
a time as any to become that prayer partner, even if she’s probably mad enough to spit about something
. . .

 

 

Priscilla sat down in the rocking chair of the guest room and began to move in quick motion. She’d gathered up the photos as hastily as she could, but stuffing them back in the ripped envelope had been a problem and she’d ended up hiding them in one of the Lyons’ sheds in an old toolbox.

She closed her eyes, then blinked them open again; she’d seen more of the flagrant images than she’d ever be able to forget.
He’d looked so casual, so carefree . . . and so very, very far from innocent.
She slapped her hands on the wide arms of the rocking chair and shook her head. “Fool,” she whispered aloud.
I’ve been such a fool about him, thinking he is so perfect and innocent, and all the while
. . . She gritted her teeth.
This goes to show that I have absolutely no judgment where men are concerned, least of all this
Amisch
man who brought us here and who really—

She snapped her head up when a firm knock sounded on the door. “Priscilla, may I
kumme
in?”

She dropped her head in her hands, suppressing a groan, while the images from the photos danced wickedly in her mind. “No,” she said.

The door opened a bit. She’d forgotten that the
Amisch
had no locks on their doors, and she looked up to see Joseph’s concerned face.

He slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Are you upset? Did someone say something to you at the store?”

She glared at him, feeling her face flood with color against her will. “No.”

“Then what is it? Did Mary—”

“Everything is fine, Joseph King. Everything.”
And we are so off this mountain as soon as I can manage it today.

He gave her one of his oh-so handsome, perfect smiles. “Did I do something then?”

Oh, I bet you did.
“No.”

She realized that he wasn’t going to go away without some explanation for her odd behavior, and she didn’t want to attract suspicion before she took Hollie and found the path down the mountain.

“Priscilla?”

“Hmm? Oh . . . it’s—well, it’s a feminine thing, Joseph.”

“Ach . . .”
He backed into the door, clearly embarrassed. “I’ll send Mary in then.”

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine if you give me a few minutes. I’ll be right out.”

“Okay . . . right. I—uh—had
kumme
over to see if you would have us pray together, but if . . .” He drifted off and exited the room as though he was being pursued by a pack of hounds.

She would have laughed if she didn’t feel so miserable inside. The less cowardly thing to do would be to give him the envelope before she left and explain about her fall, but she wasn’t feeling particularly heroic at the moment. And she knew she wouldn’t feel it later, running away. But what other choice did she have?

 

 

“Is Mommy okay?” Hollie asked when he came back into the kitchen.

He smiled at the child and avoided his sister’s eyes. “Of course,
kind
, now why not go out and pet the goat. He likes to eat clover.”

“All right.” Hollie skipped in barefoot excitement out the front door.

Mary pulled a batch of fresh chocolate chip cookies from the cooling rack and offered him the tray. He scooped up three cookies with an absent hand.

“Is everything really all right, Joseph?”

He remembered Priscilla’s explanation and ducked his head. “
Jah
. . . I’ve got to get going, but I need my old toolbox. I left it over here when I was helping build this place. Daed needs a bit of work done at home.”

“It’s in the toolshed.”

He snagged another cookie and bent to kiss his sister’s cheek.
“Danki.”

Chapter Fourteen

Priscilla felt faintly guilty at urging Mary to go into the master bedroom and have an afternoon nap, but she knew she needed to get down the mountain before nightfall. When she was sure enough minutes had passed, she slipped the satchel she’d brought with them from beneath her bed and went outside to find Hollie playing near the goat’s pen.

“Hollie,” she whispered. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Okay. Where to?”

“I thought we’d look for blueberries. ”
It was probably too early but they were going to need something to eat later.

They were mercifully out of earshot of the Lyons’ cabin when Hollie noticed Priscilla’s satchel. “Mommy, you’re not going to make us leave again, are you? I like it here and I like my pretty
Amisch
dress.”

Priscilla swallowed and spoke carefully. “I like your dress too.”

“Then we’re not leaving? Why do you have your bag?”

“I—um . . .” She tried never to lie to her daughter, but she could imagine the fuss Hollie would make if she told her the truth. Yet she was so tired of all of the sneaking and hiding. “I—yes, Hollie. We have to leave. I don’t think it’s the best place for us and—”

“No!” Hollie stamped a bare foot. “No, Mommy. I’m tired of moving and living in a car. I want to stay here with Joseph and Mary and Jude and the goat. I’m not going!” Hollie’s words ended in a screaming pitch and she darted away, far ahead up the path.

Priscilla gave chase until she had a stitch in her side. Then she saw the Kauffmans’ store as she rounded a bend and tried to slow her steps and appear casual to any potential onlookers. But as soon as she passed the large white building, she broke into a run again. She caught sight of the yellow dress in the far distance and tried calling. She saw Hollie pause and turn, then move toward the dense underbrush of the forest.

“Hollie!” Priscilla cried, trying to catch up, but her attempt was futile and she found herself plunging among shadowy trees, far from the direction of the path.

 

 

Joseph whistled to himself as he set his toolbox down on the workbench and eyed the shelves above, looking for his favorite hammer. He pulled the tool from behind a box of nails and tested its weight in his hand, enjoying the feel. He flipped open the metal hinges on the toolbox and lifted the lid, then stopped dead still, the hammer still poised above the box. He put the tool down and slid a photograph from the torn manila envelope, feeling his heart start to gallop with sickening intensity.

“Dear Gott . . .” he whispered.

He looked at the lurid image, remembering against his will. Amanda had wanted to photograph him, and he’d agreed, despite his people’s belief that a photo was a graven image.
But I didn’t care ...

He sank to his knees, cradling the toolbox, and pulled out another handful of pictures.
How
en der weldt
had they gotten here?
He drew a hoarse, half sob of a breath, then grabbed the manila envelope and turned it over, expecting to see a return address, but there was nothing. Then he heard the faint jingle of a chain and dumped the remaining photos into the box, peering into the envelope. He reached two fingers inside and shakily withdrew the familiar gold chain and bear claw necklace. He laced the chain through his fingers and closed his hand on the metal, squeezing hard enough to draw blood to the surface of his palm, as he remembered what he’d promised . . .

“Joseph?”

Mary’s voice penetrated the thin shed door and he slammed the box shut, scrambling to his feet and kicking it beneath the bench, as his sister opened the door.

“What is it?” he asked hoarsely.

“It’s Priscilla and Hollie. I lay down for a nap— and well, they’re gone. Priscilla’s things are missing also. I feel like maybe you should look.”

He pushed off the workbench, stuffing the necklace in his pants pocket. “They probably went for a walk. Don’t fret, Mary. I’ll find them.”

He walked with Mary from the shed into their daed’s house, then took off at a jog toward Ben Kauffman’s despite the resulting pain in his ribs. If anyone had seen Priscilla and Hollie, it would have been at the store, he told himself. All of the major paths in the area sort of intersected at Ben’s store, and Priscilla’s unbound red hair was sure to catch every eye.

He took the front stairs two at a time and wended his way through greetings from neighbors as he tried to get to Ben without being too obtrusive. But Agnes Smucker, a benign older woman with a toothless grin, caught his arm as he passed.

“Joseph King, I saw that pretty
Englisch
girl pass by here not more than ten minutes ago. It looked like she was in a hurry.” There was a question in the woman’s tone, but Joseph merely shrugged.

“Out for a brisk walk, no doubt, Frau Smucker.”

The woman nodded and Joseph was trying to extract himself from the store when Ben’s big voice rang out over the heads of the customers.

“
Ach
, Joseph. I met Priscilla. Did she give you that package—the big manila envelope? It was lying around the post for a while since you’ve been gone.”

Joseph froze and for a surreal moment, he remembered falling into an icy creek when he was ten and catching pneumonia. He felt the bone-wrenching cold and, for a moment, he wondered wildly if he’d be able to breathe, to speak.
Dear Gott, help me.
And then his world tilted and he found his voice, hearing himself in a distant echo. “
Jah. Danki
, Ben. I’ve got to get going.” He somehow managed a polite nod at Frau Smucker and left the store to stand shivering on the porch for a few seconds in the bright sunshine.
She saw . . . Gott help him, she saw. No wonder she left.

The realization hit him with brutal force and he set off at a dead run for the path that led down the mountain.

 

 

Priscilla groaned as she pushed through a tangle of mountain laurel and jaggers that caught at her shirt and jeans.

“Hollie!” Her voice echoed eerily in the confines of the woods and she realized with a sinking sensation in her chest that she’d completely lost all sense of direction. Even worse, she could no longer see or hear her daughter.

She stumbled on, snatches of prayers coming to her lips, then heard a loud shriek beyond a stand of pine trees directly in front of her.

“Hollie?” Priscilla ran into a clearing of pine-needle-laden forest floor and saw Hollie jumping up and down in obvious excitement. “Mommy, look, it’s a bear cub! Can I pet it? Can I?”

Priscilla walked slowly toward her daughter and put a hand on her small shoulder. “Hollie,” she whispered with a dry throat. “That’s not only a cub . . .”

“What?”

“Shhh . . .” Priscilla tried to still the rampant beating of her heart as a mother black bear rose up on its hind legs from behind some bushes and stared intently at them with dark, menacing eyes...

Joseph took in the situation before him at a glance and very slowly reached down to lift a tree branch from the ground.

“Don’t move,” he cautioned gently. “Don’t make a sound.”

He struck the nearest tree with the branch, making as loud a noise as he could. Then he did it again, adding a savage cry from the back of his throat. The mother bear sniffed the air and turned her attention to Joseph, still on her hind legs.

“Now, when I tell you—begin to back away slowly . . . very slowly.”

“But, Joseph—” Priscilla whispered.

“Hush,” he ordered. “Do as I say if you value your life, Priscilla. Do as I say.” He struck the tree again and motioned with a nod. “Now.”

He continued to strike the tree as he watched from narrowed eyes as Priscilla led Hollie backwards away from the cub. The mother bear still would not take her eyes off Joseph and he was infinitely grateful for the fact. He struck the tree again and the cub bawled a bit, then turned its furry rump and headed back toward its mother. The big bear dropped to all fours and Joseph held his breath. Finally, the animal gave a deep grunt and turned with her cub, ambling off to the other side of the clearing. Joseph put the branch down carefully and realized that his hands were shaking. He slowly traced Priscilla’s steps into the woods and found her and Hollie in the shadow of an old pine. They were clinging to each other, shaking with silent sobs. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around them and held them close, careless for the moment about his promise not to touch.

“Thank you,” Priscilla whispered after a moment, lifting tear-filled blue eyes to meet his gaze.

He set his jaw and dropped his arms. “Don’t thank me. Thank Gott. Your childish running away almost cost you your daughter’s life.”