Crimson Born - Amy Patrick Page 0,4

play basketball at HACC. You go to school around here?”

“Um... no.”

His question caught me off guard. Amish kids didn’t go to high school, much less college. I’d taken my bonnet off before getting out of the buggy when we’d arrived. Maybe it was too dark for him to see my clothing?

For some reason, I was reluctant to tell him I’d stopped going to school after eighth grade and basically worked full time on my family’s farm and the market stand.

“I’m... not in college yet,” I said.

It wasn’t a complete lie. Why did I even care what he thought?

“Well come on over here. Horseshoe Throwing 101 is now in session. By the way I’m Reece.”

He extended a huge hand, and I gripped it lightly before releasing it.

“Abigail Byler.”

“Pleased to meet you, Abigail Byler. Prepare to be amazed.”

Reece dragged the toe of his leather boot across the dirt, creating a line. Standing in front of it, he swung one long arm behind him in a smooth motion then brought it forward and released the horseshoe. It flew through the air in a perfect arc before ringing the stake with a clang.

He turned and gave me a smirk. “Now it’s your turn.”

I stepped up to the line and accepted the horseshoe Reece offered, gripping it and starting to swing it back behind me like he had done.

He caught my wrist, stopping me mid-motion.

“Whoa there. Do it that way, and you’re gonna kill some fish—or me. Let me give you some pointers first.”

Sliding his fingers from my wrist, he covered my hand entirely with his, repositioning my grip.

“What you want to do is let it hang here on your first knuckles. Yeah, that’s right—you don’t have to squeeze it. Bring it up and touch your thumb to it. Good. See, now when you release it your palm will be facing up, and the shoe will come right out of your hand at the right angle. Okay, now let me see your backswing.”

Reece took a step back and waited. Feeling supremely awkward, I swung my right hand back then forward, releasing the horseshoe and watching as it fell far short of the target.

“Good. Better.” He stepped toward me again, placing a gentle hand on each of my shoulders. “Try squaring your shoulders toward the stake and keep your arm straight when you bring it back.”

Standing behind me, he slid his right hand down my arm and drew it back to demonstrate. His voice was a soft purr in my ear.

“Back like this... then bring it forward and release.”

Goosebumps broke out all over my body, and my belly swooped. I was so unnerved by his nearness, my grip loosened right then and there, and the horseshoe thudded to the ground inches behind us.

Jumping away from him, I blurted, “I have to go to the porta potty.”

Taking off at a near run, I headed for the bonfire then veered off toward the parking area where three portable bathrooms had been set up.

I didn’t actually need to go. I did need to get a grip on myself.

Real cool there Abigail. He probably thinks you have gas.

Well, it didn’t matter anyway. I was never going to see him again after tonight.

Better to stop this... this... whatever was happening now before it went any further. He was probably only toying with me anyway.

Nothing more amusing than teasing the Amish virgin, right?

3

Destiny

I held my breath and stayed in the bathroom as long as I could stand it then exited, making up my mind to go and drag Hannah and Aaron from the barn if necessary.

As eager as I’d been to get away from home tonight, I was ready to go back now.

Back to the people and the life I understood. Back to my upstairs bedroom where I would consign this evening and my strange encounter with Reece to my journal.

And maybe my dreams.

The parking area was well-lit, with strings of white globe-lights hung from the surrounding trees. They made a safe path toward the barn, and I walked that way, scanning the crowd nearby for my friends. And yes, for Reece.

“You okay?” A now familiar voice came from my right. “I was worried about you. You ran off like a scalded cat.”

I turned to see him leaning back on the hood of a red sports car in a half-sit, half-stand. He had his arms folded across his chest and one bootheel propped on the front bumper.

“Hellion,” his license plate read. In the glow of the string lights, smiling like he was,