An Amish Man of Ice Mountain (The Amish of Ice Mountain Series Book 2) by Kelly Long Page A
Authors: Kelly Long
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bulletin board and ripped the homemade flyer with her picture from the corkboard. She crumpled the paper in her free, damp hand and yanked Hollie in the direction of the nearest exit.
“Mommy, wait! I’m hungry!”
“Hush, Hollie. We have to go.”
“Where are you going?”
Priscilla stopped as Joseph’s voice broke into her panicked thoughts. She stared up at him, his worried visage seeming to fade in and out before her eyes.
“Priscilla?”
She whirled and focused on the way they’d come in, ignoring Hollie’s increasing wails.
“Priscilla, wait.” Joseph got in front of her and she stubbornly moved to go around him, but he was equally fast. “ Sei se gut . . . let me help you.”
She shook her head mutely, trying to ignore his palpable concern and watched him pull some dollar bills from his pocket. “Hollie,” he said low, breaking into the child’s sobs. He crouched down in front of her daughter, despite his injured ribs. “Be a big girl and go and get what you want to eat. I need to talk to your mamm for a minute, all right?”
“Yay!” Hollie ran off and Priscilla blindly scrambled into a plastic chair, aware that he sank into a seat beside her.
“You don’t understand,” she muttered, gripping the edge of the table with her free hand.
“I want to.” He reached for her hand beneath the table and gently pulled the crumpled paper from her fingertips. She let him, too tired to care for a moment. All of my plans, again . . . gone. Why?
She watched Joseph spread open the paper, smoothing it against the artificial grain of the table. He read for a brief moment, then looked at her squarely, his handsome face taut and white, but somehow reassuring at the same time.
“How long have you been running?” he asked.
She covered her face with her hands, then dropped them again, shrugging. “Nearly eight months. This time—I thought maybe . . .”
She watched him stare down at the words; then he looked at her again, his unusual eyes more green than gold now. “I have to know, Priscilla . . . are you still married?”
She would have laughed if she were not so near tears . Of course you want to know that, because you’re Amisch and you’re innocent while I’m—
“Priscilla?”
She shook her head. “No, Joseph. We were divorced almost two years ago, but Heath has never—he’s never been able to accept it, or the fact that I received full custody of Hollie—as you can see.” She eyed the flyer bitterly from an upside-down angle—it always said the same thing . . .
H ELP ME FIND MY BELOVED WIFE . M ISSING WITH YOUNG CHILD . LARGE REWARD.
C ALL H EATH S T . C LAIR A T . . .
“Has he ever found you?”
Priscilla dropped her gaze. Ah, this man and his dark hair and beautiful mouth and probing mind . . . “Once. He kept me locked in a room for four days without food, kept Hollie from me. I got away—found Hollie. We’ve been running ever since . . .”
Joseph drew a deep breath, then laid his hands flat on the table, as if in decision. “Look, do you want to be free of all of this running and hiding?”
“Of course,” she said wearily.
He folded the flyer and put it in his pants pocket. “All right. Then come with me. I know a place . . . a world away . . . and he’ll never find you or Hollie there, ever.”
Priscilla knew it was more than a gamble, but she also understood the clear truth in Joseph’s eyes. Something old and good resonated in her soul and the words were on her lips before she knew what she’d said.
“I’ll go.”
Chapter Nine
“Dang it all, honey. If I’d known you were homeless with a little girl, I would’ve given you my own bed to sleep in.” Mary Malizza stood gaping at the little waitress she’d hired, after listening to her explain why she was leaving.
The pretty little thing sure didn’t need to run off with another fella, though Mary knew that the Amisch brothers held a moral code that many of her patrons did not. Still . .
“Mommy, wait! I’m hungry!”
“Hush, Hollie. We have to go.”
“Where are you going?”
Priscilla stopped as Joseph’s voice broke into her panicked thoughts. She stared up at him, his worried visage seeming to fade in and out before her eyes.
“Priscilla?”
She whirled and focused on the way they’d come in, ignoring Hollie’s increasing wails.
“Priscilla, wait.” Joseph got in front of her and she stubbornly moved to go around him, but he was equally fast. “ Sei se gut . . . let me help you.”
She shook her head mutely, trying to ignore his palpable concern and watched him pull some dollar bills from his pocket. “Hollie,” he said low, breaking into the child’s sobs. He crouched down in front of her daughter, despite his injured ribs. “Be a big girl and go and get what you want to eat. I need to talk to your mamm for a minute, all right?”
“Yay!” Hollie ran off and Priscilla blindly scrambled into a plastic chair, aware that he sank into a seat beside her.
“You don’t understand,” she muttered, gripping the edge of the table with her free hand.
“I want to.” He reached for her hand beneath the table and gently pulled the crumpled paper from her fingertips. She let him, too tired to care for a moment. All of my plans, again . . . gone. Why?
She watched Joseph spread open the paper, smoothing it against the artificial grain of the table. He read for a brief moment, then looked at her squarely, his handsome face taut and white, but somehow reassuring at the same time.
“How long have you been running?” he asked.
She covered her face with her hands, then dropped them again, shrugging. “Nearly eight months. This time—I thought maybe . . .”
She watched him stare down at the words; then he looked at her again, his unusual eyes more green than gold now. “I have to know, Priscilla . . . are you still married?”
She would have laughed if she were not so near tears . Of course you want to know that, because you’re Amisch and you’re innocent while I’m—
“Priscilla?”
She shook her head. “No, Joseph. We were divorced almost two years ago, but Heath has never—he’s never been able to accept it, or the fact that I received full custody of Hollie—as you can see.” She eyed the flyer bitterly from an upside-down angle—it always said the same thing . . .
H ELP ME FIND MY BELOVED WIFE . M ISSING WITH YOUNG CHILD . LARGE REWARD.
C ALL H EATH S T . C LAIR A T . . .
“Has he ever found you?”
Priscilla dropped her gaze. Ah, this man and his dark hair and beautiful mouth and probing mind . . . “Once. He kept me locked in a room for four days without food, kept Hollie from me. I got away—found Hollie. We’ve been running ever since . . .”
Joseph drew a deep breath, then laid his hands flat on the table, as if in decision. “Look, do you want to be free of all of this running and hiding?”
“Of course,” she said wearily.
He folded the flyer and put it in his pants pocket. “All right. Then come with me. I know a place . . . a world away . . . and he’ll never find you or Hollie there, ever.”
Priscilla knew it was more than a gamble, but she also understood the clear truth in Joseph’s eyes. Something old and good resonated in her soul and the words were on her lips before she knew what she’d said.
“I’ll go.”
Chapter Nine
“Dang it all, honey. If I’d known you were homeless with a little girl, I would’ve given you my own bed to sleep in.” Mary Malizza stood gaping at the little waitress she’d hired, after listening to her explain why she was leaving.
The pretty little thing sure didn’t need to run off with another fella, though Mary knew that the Amisch brothers held a moral code that many of her patrons did not. Still . .
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