Forbidden (33 page)

A dull pain awoke Rachel.

She lay in bed a long while, assessing her lower back and breathing through the pain. After a minute or two, it eased. She probably shouldn't have gone walking so far yesterday. The baby stirred, and her belly tightened, her back aching. Any hope of more sleep slipped through her fingers.

Roc shifted in his sleep, and she listened to him breathing, the slow, rhythmic sound, deep and regular, gave her a sense of calm and peace. She hadn't heard him come to bed last night. He'd been running on little sleep, and had been sporting dark circles under his eyes for the last few days, so she didn't want to wake him.

She rose and greeted the day as quietly as she could. Moving about the room, she was careful not to cause a cramp in her calf and wake Roc. In the gray darkness, she dressed and tiptoed from the room.

***

By the time Sally came downstairs, Rachel already had biscuits rolled out and ready for the oven. Her palms had a dusting of flour, and she rinsed them in the sink.

“Aren't you the early bird?” Sally smiled. When Sally found humor or simply greeted another, her smiles brightened her face and lifted her features. But Rachel had also seen when Sally was quiet, her thoughts elsewhere, and her features sagged with the weight of worries and deep sorrow. Rachel's hand touched the side of her belly. What mother would ever stop mourning the loss of a child?

And her grief would be deepened if she came to know what Jacob had become.
Or
did
she
know?
Sally had never mentioned or hinted at the possibility, and Rachel suspected Jonas had kept the truth from his wife. Just as Hannah had kept the truth from her. Both decisions were born of love, and yet was it best?

Sally touched Rachel's arm. “You feeling all right?”

“I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd get started for the day.”

Rachel touched her back. The pains had continued through the early morning hours. They didn't move across her belly, just focused in her lower back, which held a deep ache. But if she kept doing her chores or finding more to be done, she didn't notice the pain as much. So she kept going.

Roc suddenly came rushing down the stairs, looking as if he'd woken with a start and thrown on his brown pants and shirt. Part of his shirt was untucked, and he pulled on his coat hastily. Despite the slapdash appearance, his gaze was as intent as a hawk as he looked straight at Rachel. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Good.” She wasn't about to burden him with her backache. It seemed insignificant. Roc had much more to think about than her little complaints. With the back of her wrist, she brushed away a lock of hair tickling her cheek. “And you?”

“I've got to go check on some things,” he said as he headed for the back door.

Rachel watched him walk away, and stretched her arms above her head, easing out the kinks in her back. The pain seemed to be going away, and seemed as insignificant now as the cramp the other night in her leg. She would see the day through. Just as she and Roc would push through until they had trapped Akiva. Until then, neither of them needed any distractions.

Roc had anticipated having to wake Samuel to go get Roberto, but the boy was already out of bed. Even though in many ways Samuel was a typical teenager, he was after all Amish and more accustomed to starting his chores in the gray light of this godless hour.

Roc walked the perimeter of the property first then made his way to the barn where Samuel was doing his daily chores.

“You remember what to do?” Roc asked, his voice low.

“Easy as pie.”

“How would you know if pies are easy?”

“They're easy to eat.” Samuel's grin widened, creasing his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. “You think picking up your friend is gonna be hard?”

“No. 'Course not.” Roc was simply out of sorts. He was about a week shy of enough sleep, and he shouldn't have slept last night. He'd woken to some noise and found the bed empty, so not knowing where Rachel was he'd panicked. Even though he knew she was fine now, his nerves were still on edge.

He drew a steadying breath. “Shouldn't be difficult. Just pick up Roberto and bring him here.”

“All right.” Samuel dusted off his hands on the back of his pants and hooked his suspenders over his shoulders. “I'll finish feeding and head off.”

“Good. Good.” Roc stood there a moment, not knowing what to do or where to go. Then he turned back toward the barn's entrance but stopped. Facing Samuel again, he reached for the bucket. “Actually, don't worry about the feeding, I'll finish up. You go on.”

“You don't mind?”

“Just go.”

Samuel slapped his straw hat on his head. “You take care, Roc.”

“You too, Samuel.”

Samuel cranked his motorcycle and took off as the sun began its full assault, orange lines marching across the horizon. Wind rushed through his hair, pummeling his face, and he leaned into it. It gave him a sense of freedom he'd never had before he bought the motorcycle.

His eyes ached this morning, and the sun's rays made it worse. He hadn't slept well last night, tossing and turning, as he thought of Andi and what she might be doing. Imagined scenarios made his stomach churn—Andi out meeting other guys, guys hungering for her. He suddenly wished he had a cell phone like some of his friends had so he could call her, let her know why he hadn't arrived last night.

Then an idea came to him. Roc had sent him off early. He still had plenty of time left to get across the Ohio border and cross into Kentucky to pick up Roc's friend.

Smiling to himself, Samuel slowed down and took the next turn. Then he drove as straight and fast as his motorcycle would take him.

***

When he arrived, the parking lot of the apartment complex was quiet. A man carried a cup of coffee toward a car and climbed inside, flicking on his headlights. Samuel drove through the sleepy lot, finally parking next to Andi's red Echo. Her car needed cleaning, and he promised himself he'd take care of it for her this week. Or he hoped she would let him.

The lump in his stomach grew larger and heavier as he walked up the steps to her apartment.
What
would
he
do
if
someone
else
was
with
her? If she hadn't been alone and lonely all night like he had?
Samuel gnawed on the inside of his lip, glancing back at her car. Then with fierce determination, he fisted his hand and knocked against the door, hard enough to crack a knuckle.

He waited…listening, trying to hear inside the apartment. But he couldn't make out any sounds. All seemed quiet. Too quiet.

Of course, she was probably sleeping. Most days, Andi didn't have to be at work until 9:30. She thought he was nuts because he got up at four each morning to do chores for his dad. But what if she wasn't home? What if she'd gone out with someone? And what if she'd gone
home
with that someone?

The hard lump dropped sharply then bounced up to his throat.
Where
was
she?

He pounded the door again, taking out his frustration and anger on the wood. This time, he heard something…a voice maybe…then the sound of an inside door opening. Finally, the chain rattled, and the knob turned.

The lump in his throat dissolved at the sight of Andi. Her auburn hair was in wild disarray, the curls spilling around her shoulders. She had raccoon eyes, her mascara smeared and smudged in all directions as it sometimes was after they went to bed eager and greedy. His gaze slipped lower to her fancy nightgown, which revealed more than it hid and highlighted areas that made his blood run hot. Then cold.

The lump in his throat congealed again into something hard and unyielding as it cut off his breath. Had she worn that red, lacy thing for someone else? Words lodged in his throat. Questions rose but couldn't escape. He froze, unable to step inside or walk away.

She blinked at him, her forehead puckering between her brows. “What is it, Sam?” Her voice had the gravelly, sleepy tone he loved. And maybe a hint of annoyance too. “Your watch not working?”

Definite annoyance. “Huh?”

“You were supposed to come by last night. You forget? Or did you get p.m. and a.m. mixed up?”

“I…I…something came up. I couldn't get away.”

She leaned against the doorjamb, her arm straight, one foot crossed in front of the other. Her limbs were bare, and not much else was hidden from view. She didn't seem to care that anyone walking by in the parking lot could see her, although not many folks seemed to be awake this early.

“So, what do you want, Samuel?” Irritation sharpened her tone.

She hadn't told him to get lost, he realized. Although she might yet. And she hadn't said she was busy with someone else.

The lump shrunk slightly. He swallowed hard, his belly tense. Finally, he spoke from his heart. “I want you.”

Her mouth curved to one side, and she pushed the door open wider. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

With everything set in motion, and his nerves on edge, Roc couldn't imagine sitting down for breakfast. In the old days, on a stakeout, he would chow down on fast food, if he ate at all. But now there was much more at risk. Yet, in a practical sense, he knew he should eat.

Buttery biscuits came out of the oven and made his stomach rumble with suppressed need. Sally and Rachel waited a few minutes, busying themselves around the kitchen, until Jonas came in the back door. Slowly, he hung his hat beside the door and then settled in his place—a signal for everyone else to do so.

Before they bowed their heads in silent prayer, Jonas cleared his throat. “I don't know where Samuel got off to. I checked the barn and—”

“He's running an errand for me,” Roc admitted.

Jonas narrowed his gaze. “What kind of errand?”

“Picking up a friend of mine at the bus station. They should be back soon.”

“I can make more eggs,” Sally volunteered.

Roc gave her a thankful nod and then met Jonas's stormy gaze. If Roc were ever to become a father, he would feel the same.

“He didn't take the buggy,” Jonas said more to himself than Roc.

“Samuel took his motorcycle. That way he can get there and back quicker.”

Jonas snatched a biscuit off the plate. “I don't like it.”

Sally's mouth thinned, but she said nothing.

Jonas glanced in her direction and then at the biscuit in his hand. He set it on his plate as if it might shatter and then bowed his head. Both Sally and Rachel followed his lead. They prayed silently while Roc simply watched them, keeping an eye on the back door, the front one, and every window between.

The tension around the table absorbed the warm, enticing odors of the biscuits, eggs, and bacon, to the point where the only thing Roc could smell was sweat-induced fear. Jonas continuously wiped his brow with his napkin and finally gave up all pretense of eating. He pushed back from the table and stalked to the window, looking out, watching for Samuel's return. The clock seemed to be ticking ahead of itself, the time moving faster than normal.

“I'll be hitching the horse to the buggy. We don't have time to wait for Samuel.” Jonas snatched his hat off the peg beside the door. He spoke these words to Roc then looked at his wife. “Be ready to go, Sally.”

She nodded but said nothing.

Roc went to the door with Jonas, then to the barn. He tried to help with the horse but ended up standing awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. He kept looking up at the rafters and outside as the sky turned from pink to blue, reminding him of the day's plan.

“When Samuel returns,” Jonas said, “send him on to the Brennamans' farm. He knows where it is. Be firm with him. Make him do as I say. I want my son safe.”

“I understand, Jonas,” Roc replied. “I want the same thing.”

Brydon watched the activity from his usual perch.

The sun's rays slanted across the green, budding, and ripening landscape, giving everything a shimmer of surrealism. Brydon settled his wings at the small of his back and moved back and forth from one foot to the other. He cocked his head sideways to better see what was going on around the little Amish house.

Earlier, the son, tall and sure of himself, had taken off on his motorcycle. Akiva had insisted the young man not be hurt in what was coming, which Brydon found unusual. It made him even more curious about the boy. After having watched the goings-on here for a while, Brydon knew it was odd for the kid to go off so early. Usually he used his bike only at night.

And now the old man and his wife were leaving in the buggy. The Amish man trotted the horse-drawn buggy around to the front of the house.

In a few minutes, Rachel and Roc would be alone. Finally.

***

Brydon hurriedly flew back to the motel, swooped down, and without a knock, entered the room.

“I think we should move now,” Brydon stated.

Akiva was lying on a bed, a teenager sleeping next to him. With his finger, he drew a pattern along her arm. She lay curled on her side and could have been dead, but there was no blood. Not yet.

Akiva's other hand held a book he was reading. Slowly, he closed the pages of Shakespeare's sonnets. “And what makes you think that?”

“There's movement. And early. Samuel Fisher left in a hurry. Jonas Fisher and his wife—”

“Sally.” Akiva supplied the name. Brydon caught the look, understood that Akiva didn't want them hurt. But Brydon would do what must be done.

“They're all leaving. And Roc and Rachel are alone.”

“For how long?”

“I don't know. But the girl, Rachel, is having pains.”

Akiva tossed the book to the bed. “You're sure of this?”

“I read her mind.”

Akiva was on his feet quickly, knocking the book to the floor, and the girl woke with a start. “Hey!”

“You're not mistaken?” Akiva's gaze sharpened.

Brydon never flinched. “No way.”

The teen blinked, glancing down at herself, as if surprised to find herself still dressed. “What's going on? Who are you?”

Akiva strode toward the door, brushing past him.

Brydon fisted his hands on his hips. “What do you want me to do now?”

“Take care of her,” Akiva tossed over his shoulder.

“But you promised me that Roc was mine.”

“He will be soon enough. In the meantime, you need strength.”