Plain Fear: Forgiven: A Novel (8 page)

Samuel walked into the bedroom carrying a tray of food. Levi sat upright in bed, propped up by a bank of pillows, his middle still bisected by stark white bandages. Across the room, a crib held both sleeping babies. Samuel settled the tray across Levi’s straightened legs, picked up a plate for himself, and plopped into the rocker. After offering a silent prayer, he forked some noodles.

Levi tore apart a piece of bread. “Everything okay at the barn?”

“Good.” Samuel chewed the beef and noodles.

A strange noise hummed in the room. Searching for the source, he heard it again and his gaze locked on to the blanket covering Levi. A patch of the blanket twitched and shook. Then Samuel recognized the sound as one he’d heard at Andi’s apartment. “You have a cell phone, Levi?”

A few Old Order Amish were allowed to have mobile phones, depending on the district and its elders. Sometimes the accommodation was made for businesses, as long as the phones were stored out in the woodworking shops or barns. Some Amish even had special sheds built between farms to house telephones shared by neighbors. The purpose of avoiding telephones wasn’t a fear of technology, so much as an attempt to separate the Amish from the fracturing influence of the secular American culture and the ability of phones to lure one away from family and community. Samuel had seen enough
English
teens answering cell phones and texting while sitting at restaurant tables with their friends and family to know firsthand that cell phones did not bring unity to a community.

Still, Levi didn’t have the kind of business needing a phone. Maybe it was for medical emergencies? After all, Hannah had recently delivered twins and he’d been injured. An Amish neighbor in Harmony Hollow carried a cell phone so he could hitch rides to the hospital for cancer treatments. Still, that was the exception, not the rule.

Levi didn’t answer Samuel’s question directly or quickly. Instead, his lips flattened, and he set the bread back on the plate, slid one hand beneath the blanket, and retrieved a small black cell phone. He lifted it to his ear, cleared his throat. “Yes?” Levi listened to the voice on the other end before saying, “Better.”

Levi sounded awkward.
Was
it
because
he
wasn’t used to talking on a phone? Or was it because Samuel was watching him?

Samuel focused on his plate of noodles.

“All right,” Levi said. “I will do that then. Good. And thank you.” Levi clicked a button on the phone and laid it back on the bed, this time above the covers, as if saying, “Well, now that the secret is out, what’s the point of hiding it?”

This new development was his brother’s business. Samuel wouldn’t sit in judgment of Levi, just as he hoped Levi would return the favor.

After an awkward minute, Levi cleared his throat again, scooped up peas, and then gulped iced tea. “That was Roc Girouard. On the phone there.”

Samuel’s gaze snapped toward Levi. “You keep in touch with Roc?”

“I do. He is a good man.”

Samuel chewed on that for a moment. He thought back to that time six months ago when Roc and Rachel lived in his parents’ home. “Didn’t Roc go back to New Orleans?”

“He lives here now. He married Rachel.”

Surprised, Samuel nudged a noodle with his fork. Roc and Rachel had claimed to be married while staying in Samuel’s parents’ home, but then Samuel had learned that was false, a lie created so Roc could better protect Rachel. They must have fallen in love then and gotten married. Samuel sighed in frustration. Of course no one had told him—simply more lies from his father.

Since they were now married, it made sense why Levi would keep track of Roc. Rachel was his sister-in-law through Hannah. “How is Rachel? Her baby?”

“Good. One day my boys will play with their cousin. But I see Roc more often,” Levi said. “Easier since Rachel is being shunned.”

Samuel looked up, ignoring his dinner. “Marrying an
Englisher
is not taken lightly.”

“They married not long after they returned.” Levi smiled. “Hannah and I attended their wedding. It was very small. But I believe they are good for each other.”

“Then you don’t think she should be shunned?”

“It is not for me to say, is it? Hannah grieves for her sister, though. So we see them occasionally, but…not for reasons you might think. And we do not discuss these visits with others.” Levi gave a warning glance.

Samuel raised an eyebrow, but he gave a nod of understanding. He would not say anything either.

“I do not lie,” Levi added, a tone of defiance in his voice. “I want you to understand that, Samuel.”

“You’re not Pop.”

“No, I’m not. Our actions—Hannah’s and mine—could lead to our own shunning at some point. But I must protect my family, and I will.”

This man who lay in the bed seemed so different from the brother he had known growing up. Levi acted more like Jacob, skirting the rules and playing with fire. Maybe that was simply part of adulthood. Samuel had done his share of that in the past few months, so he wouldn’t judge. Besides, it had been three years since he’d seen Levi. Yet in a world where nothing with the Amish changed in hundreds of years, much had changed.

“When I was injured,” Levi said, “Roc canceled a trip he’d planned to find a missing friend so he could help out. He is a good man. And he loves Rachel as she loves him. They are devoted to each other and to Josef’s son.”

“The child won’t be raised Amish then?” Samuel asked.

Levi shook his head. “Both Rachel and Roc understand we are all in a battle. And this battle strips away the dividers between religious institutions.”

Samuel’s eyebrows rose.
A
battle?

“But I get ahead of myself.” Levi scratched his beard. “Samuel, our father sent me a letter a while back. He expressed concerned about you…about an
English
girl you have been seeing.” Samuel opened his mouth to deny it, but Levi rushed on. “Hear me out. You are a man now, Samuel, and can make your own decisions. I will not lecture you as Pop most probably already has.” He shrugged. “Besides, as you can tell from what I’ve said about Roc and Rachel, I do not think marrying an
Englisher
is the worst you can do—if it’s the right
Englisher
. Rachel’s situation is different, of course, because she was baptized. If you were to marry an
Englisher
, you would not be shunned because you have not been baptized.”

“Are you telling me not to get baptized?”

“I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, Samuel. You must make your own decisions. However, marrying outside our community can be a rocky path. You were raised Amish. When you become a parent, you might be—”

“Whoa, I’m not about to become a parent.”

“It is a consideration before you make a big decision. Like marriage.”

“I’m not about to get married either.”

Levi nodded slowly. “Now that you know about…Jacob and how—”

“I don’t know anything about Jacob.” Samuel stiffened in response to Levi’s jabbing words. His gaze shifted to the cell phone beside Levi. “Or about you.”

“A lot has changed in three years.”

“Yes,” Samuel agreed, “it has.” He dropped the fork onto his plate, having lost his appetite.

The gravity of the discussion weighed on Levi’s expression, making his face look long and shadowed. Blue smudges deepened his eyes. “I regret that you were lied to, Samuel, about our brother. I never wanted to be a part of that. And I regret the last few years we were separated. A family should be together. But I believe you are here now for a reason.”

Reason? What reason? Had it been the plan all along? Was Levi’s injury just an excuse? Was this Pop’s way of getting him away from what he considered a bad influence?
But Andi hadn’t put him on the path to truth. His father’s lies had—

“Wait a minute.” Samuel stood, grabbing the plate he’d forgotten about which almost toppled. The fork, however, clattered against the rocker and hit the floor. Samuel shoved the plate onto the tray. “Are you saying Pop sent me here? Was this some kind of a trick you were both playing?”

“Samuel,” Levi said, his tone too parental, “I only know that you volunteered to come here and help on the farm while I am laid up. For that, I am grateful.”

“Was Pop ever going to come here himself?”

“Not that I was aware of.”

So he had been manipulated. Anger curled his hands into fists. Pop had played him for a fool. Maybe Levi was speaking the truth. Then again, maybe not.
Who
could
he
trust? Only himself.
And he’d surprise them all by not playing their game. He’d do what he wanted. And coming here was only the first step on his own road.

“Samuel,” Levi continued, “I had a private hope that the trip might be useful for me to explain some things to you, things I was never able to discuss with you before.”

Samuel crossed his arms over his chest, feeling betrayed once again. “You mean about Jacob? About his death? Did Pop tell you? Or maybe Roc did.” He hesitated before speaking the words, which sliced at his throat like serrated knives, but he wasn’t going to hide from the truth either. He threw the words at his older brother with careless aim. “I killed Jacob. I was the one.”

Levi blanched.

“And I have to live with that.” Samuel slapped his chest. “So yeah, now I wanna know what my brother was doing in Ohio when I thought he’d been long buried in Pennsylvania. And yeah, I’ve been trying to figure things out. And maybe I’ve even hung out with an
English
girl. Because I like her. Because she doesn’t
lie
to me.”

“Samuel”—Levi gestured toward the rocker—“I want to help you understand.”

“Where’s Roc? He’ll tell me the truth.”

Brydon walked beside the woman to the diner, keeping a respectful distance. The night was pleasant and the streets deserted. His natural instincts were to pounce and enjoy the taste of her. But he liked the game, the anticipation, and the pursuit more. He also liked them to eat sugar and caffeine. It made a powerful kick, and he got a nice buzz afterward.

Her thoughts told him what a fun evening she was planning, and he’d let her tease and toy with him, then he’d jolt her with a surprise of his own. He hadn’t yet decided if he would drain her or change her. She might be open to this lifestyle. She had certainly latched on to the information about Aleister Crowley. If the articles he’d copied for her intrigued her, then he would find an appetizer for them to share.

His sharpened senses detected a presence behind him, and he felt the tiny tentacles probing into his thoughts, which told him another vamp was nearby. But in his experience, vamps only came around other vamps when they encroached on their territory or wanted something. Never good. Always required caution. He kept walking, very aware that Andi was even more vulnerable. Another vamp might fight him for her and ruin his plans.

Finally, Brydon asked, “What is it you want?”

Andi gave him an odd look. “What?”

A deep, rumbling chuckle came from ahead rather than behind.

Brydon came to a sudden halt. A body materialized out of the darkness and stood in front of them, blocking the sidewalk. More than one vamp meant danger. He pushed Andi toward the building. A low guttural growl came from his throat. Three vamps looking like the dark-of-night mafia stood in a wide half circle, barring any escape route.

The lead vampire spoke first. “We are here for you.”

Brydon lifted one eyebrow. “What for?”

“You have much to answer for.”

Brydon crossed his arms over his chest. He suspected this to be a ploy to get him out of the way so they could feed on Andi. They would think nothing of dispatching him quickly to the hereafter. “About?”

One vamp stepped forward and grabbed Brydon’s right arm. “You can tell Jezebel.”

“Who the hell is that?” Brydon struggled against the vamp’s grip.

“Didn’t Giovanni tell you?” The vamp gave a vicious smile. “Did he ever mention the one you should fear? Your day of reckoning has arrived.”

The other vamp edged forward, sniffing the air and staring at Andi, hidden partially behind Brydon. “We might be delayed.”

“She won’t take long.” The one that seemed to be the leader licked his lips. “A
ménage à trois
, eh?”

“Andi,” Brydon warned.

“I’m not afraid of them.” Her voice sounded like steel.

The leader laughed, and the other two joined him. “You should be, my dear. But if you aren’t now, then you will be. Oh, you will be.”

She stepped out from behind Brydon and walked toward the leader. “And why’s that?”

“Because—” But he never finished his sentence.

Andi yanked her hand out of her bag and aimed something right at the vamp’s head. She sprayed something in his eyes. The vamp hollered, swiped at his eyes, and doubled over.

Several things happened at once. Brydon blocked one of the other vamps from advancing, shoved Andi toward the street, and yelled, “Run!”

And she did.

Brydon grabbed each of the other vamps—a sleeve, the back of a jacket—and hurled them against the building. They fell in a heap, rolling across the sidewalk and snarling and snapping at each other and him.

The sun bled red across the evening sky, smearing a trail along the horizon. Following Levi’s directions, he took Highway 30 West on his motorcycle. Samuel noted the distance wasn’t far the way a crow flies, but the drive took longer, as he had to take the accessible highways and byways, turning onto Tower Road and then Furnace. He passed through Buzzards Roost and Schulls Rock, the terrain much rougher than typical Amish farmland throughout Pennsylvania. Eventually the roads lost their names and were simply dead-ends or forks that led in new directions. Remote didn’t come close to describing this out-of-the-way place. He’d thought Harmony Hollow, where his parents lived now in Ohio, had been in the backwoods.

Thick growth surrounded him on either side of the narrow road, sometimes making it difficult for his motorcycle to pass fallen limbs or broken branches, dips in the neglected road, or even hairpin curves. Obviously not too many traveled this way. Tree limbs overhead dappled the remaining sunlight, and he drove through shade and flashes of light and then into darkness.

Rocks and remains of dried, wintry brush obscured the splintered turnoff. He had to stop his motorcycle, turn it around, in order to take the even narrower road up a steep embankment. Off to his left, the Susquehanna River stretched below him. He veered away from the river, through more woods where leaves had collected and shadowy areas still held snow. Spring had not yet arrived here, and he felt a chill in his bones.

Samuel approached one last decline only to come to an abrupt halt where the road jutted straight down the embankment. It looked more like one of those climbing walls at Andi’s gym. For a moment or two, he pondered his options before deciding to leave his motorcycle hidden in a copse of trees. He half slid down the embankment and continued until he came to a flat section. Searching, he located what appeared to be the remains of a trail and followed it until he came to a bend.

A field opened before him, and farther back a small home nestled into the base of a rolling hill. The wind blustered through this tiny valley, which seemed to be cut off from the rest of the world, and slapped the laundry hanging on the line. Samuel followed the footpath to the gate, noticing an unpaved road leading from the barn into a forest, the tall, thick trees, hiding the trail.

Did
Roc
and
Rachel
now
reside
here? Was it even a farm?
Roc had never seemed the farmer type, and he chuckled to himself as he remembered Roc trying to muck out the stalls in his father’s barn. But this tiny farmhouse didn’t seem to have any farmland accompanying it. A corral, however, kept a horse and a lone cow. The horse’s ears pricked upward at his approach, and the mare eyed him warily. An oversized barn dwarfed the house.

He angled across the yard, toward the porch steps. Something felt wrong—very wrong. Whoever lived here didn’t value company. He stood at the base of the steps for a moment, hesitating, wondering what he should do. It felt too still, too quiet. Again, he waited and watched, noting the wave in the tree branches, the sway of the sun-bleached sheets, the deceptive tranquility. He couldn’t name what it was, but he felt…like he was being watched again.

Glancing right, toward the barn, then left, toward the woods and even behind him, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that should alarm him, nothing to make him think someone was spying on him. And yet that uncanny, eerie feeling crept along the base of his neck, like a cold finger trailing his spine.

Shrugging off the sensation as simply memories or paranoia, he jogged up the steps, his heavy boots hollow on the planked steps. When he set foot on the porch, the boards beneath him sagged and gave way, dropping out from under him. He crashed through the opening, knocking a shoulder against a wooden plank, and landed with a hard thump on a dirt floor. Pain hit him in several places at once—shoulder, side, hip.

Coughing, he struggled to sit upright and pulled air into his lungs. He blinked against darkness, thought he saw a shape loom over him. Then something kicked him hard in the chest.

The next thing he knew, a bright light hit him in the eyes, and a deadly voice said, “What the hell do you want?”