Finding Mercy Read Free

hands. Make you harder to pick out among our people, ya, it will.”
    “Oh, right,” Alex said, smoothing and replacing it on his head. He couldn’t get used to his Amish hairstyle, either, or the lack of zippers on his broadfall-style pants, the suspenders, or the five hundred dollars Branin had given him in small bills, when he was used to credit cards. No smartphone, which he missed horribly. Like an idiot he kept lifting his wrist to check his Rolex for the time when he didn’t and couldn’t wear a watch—and did time even matter in this place? At least he was playing a younger, unwed man, so he didn’t have to grow a beard. This elderly man had a long, white one.
    “I do appreciate everything, sir,” he told his host.
    “ Sir is too worldly. Bishop or just Joseph is good for me. Be careful not to talk much in front of strangers and just nod when we speak the Deutsche but for those few words I told you . Too bad you got to use lies to protect the truth. Learned it the hard way myself, but the ends sometimes justify the means. You got your story straight?”
    “Yes— ya. My manager rehearsed it with me, so I won’t rattle my bio—biography—off again. I guess this has never happened before, that your people have sheltered a kind of fugitive.”
    “Nope. Did it because we owe FBI Agent Lincoln Armstrong a favor for helping solve a crime in these parts and your man Branin is a friend of his. And because Armstrong canceled a money debt my daughter Hannah owed him. I would take you in myself but too many people in and out of a bishop’s home. We all—you too, I know—hope this won’t last long.”
    “That’s for sure. I’d like to get this over, sanely and safely.”
    “Life is precious, each one. You got a lot to live for. Enjoy and treasure each day. We all do.”
    Bishop Esh turned the buggy onto another curving, hilly road with a metal signpost that read Oakridge, and a hand-lettered one under it with an arrow. Lavender Plain Products, No Sunday Sales.
    * * *
    “We what? ” Ella heard her brother Abel ask Daad as she hurried into the kitchen where her family and the stranger were gathered around the big table. She took off her bonnet, draped the tied strings over the back of her usual chair and sat. Pieces of shoofly pie and raspberry iced tea were at each place. Abel went on, “Take in an Englischer and say he’s our cousin? But why, Daad? ”
    Daad shot Abel a sharp look. Ella could tell their worldly visitor wanted to answer but deferred to their father.
    “Partly in thanks,” Daad answered, “for what Agent Armstrong did for the Eshes. The bishop asked us to house this man we will call our cousin Andrew Lantz from Intercourse, Pennsylvania, though he is really an Auslander from a big Eastern American city. Andrew will work with us, work the fields. He will be with us until at least late summer, maybe longer. We will not question him about his true identity or his past. He is a good man. Now Mr. Branin here will say a bit more before our guest arrives.”
    Ella noted Daad frowned at Aaron for rolling his eyes at the mention of Intercourse. She’d heard Aaron and a couple of guys from his buddy group snickering over the name of that town before. Ah, those almost-ready-for- rumspringa years, when Amish teens enjoyed running around and trying worldly things. She should have cut loose more, but after her accident, she was so afraid of doing anything wrong, of setting off the darkness again.
    She studied the Auslander. Mr. Branin was a short, wiry man whose red hair was fading to gray and creeping up pretty high on his forehead. He had sunglasses sticking out of his pocket, both the pockets and glasses sure signs he was an Englischer. He was dressed half fancy, half country in a white-sleeved shirt with jeans and running shoes. He wore a gold watch and wedding ring, which stood out here. He leaned forward with his elbows on the kitchen table as he talked, gesturing so much he almost punched