The Caregiver - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,1

warned her. Paul didn’t like her to disturb him. He didn’t like her to spy on him.

And surely he would not be happy if she went to the barn without him telling her she could. Almost without thought, she rubbed the knot that now was a permanent fixture on her arm. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.

Thirty minutes later, Lucy felt sick to her stomach. It was now almost 8:30, the time Paul liked to read the Bible and discuss his plans for the next day. Surely something was wrong.

Worrying her bottom lip, she slowly opened the screen door and stepped outside. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Star, their shepherd mix, whining outside the barn door.

“Star?”

The dog barked, then whined some more. Pulled on the rope that hitched him to a post by the barn’s entrance.

Lucy started forward. For Star to be still tied up, that was strange indeed. Usually Paul let him loose once he went into the barn to inspect the horses. “Star? Are you okay?” she asked as she freed the dog.

The dog answered by barking again and pawing at the barn’s entrance.

Lucy gathered her courage. Prepared herself to meet Paul’s barrage of abuse for disturbing him. Or for him to yank at her shoulder for spying.

But the daylight was waning. Lucy didn’t know what Paul wanted her to do, but when Star pawed the door again, she opened it and stepped in. Her heart beat wildly. With a cautious, dry swallow, she whispered, “Paul?”

Only the nervous neigh of their horses replied.

She walked in farther, then stopped in shock.

Paul lay at the base of the ladder that led to the barn’s loft. She rushed to his side and knelt, Star at her heels. “Paul!” she cried out. “Paul! Paul?”

That’s when she noticed his neck was at an odd angle and his eyes were open. Lifeless.

Gingerly, she pressed two fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. But there wasn’t one. Her husband was dead.

Chapter 1

~One year later~

“Lucy? Lucy, you come here this instant.”

Paul’s voice echoed through their home, practically shaking the rafters. Definitely shaking her nerves. In a panic, she slipped her pencil into the middle of her diary, shut it, then hastily stuffed it in between the wooden slats and into the box springs of their bed.

She got to her feet and went to find her husband.

He stood at the bottom of the steps, his hands on his hips, rage in his eyes.

“Yes, Paul?” she asked, taking care to keep her tone even and calm.

“Where is the bread you made today?”

She rushed past him, careful not to make contact. In the kitchen, she opened the bread box. “Here,” she said, slipping out the fresh loaf. “Would you like a slice?”

Slowly, he shook his head. “Nee.”

He turned from her and stomped off, just as she caught her breath. Oh, that had been a close call. She knew what would have happened if she hadn’t found the bread . . .

Abruptly, he turned around. “Lucy? Did you make bread for your family, too?”

Her palms began to sweat. What was the right answer? If she chose wrong, Paul would be upset.

She bit her lip.

“Lucy, can you answer me?”

Oh, that tone. So sarcastic and harsh at the same time! Quickly, she rubbed her damp hands on the sides of her dress. Swallowed hard. “I did make bread for them.”

Body tense, she waited for him to respond.

A light shone in his eyes as he stepped forward. His hand was raised. Her breath caught.

“Hello? Hel-lo!”

Lucy opened her eyes and stifled a scream. A little girl was staring at her over the top of the seat in front of her. Little by little, the dream faded and her reality set in.

She was on a train.

Not in her kitchen.

And Paul . . . Paul was gone.

The little girl squinted her eyes as she examined Lucy some more. Pretty little eyebrows framed expressive blue eyes. And a petite white kapp covered her head.

Lucy finally spoke. “Hello to you.”

A broad smile greeted her. “We’re Amish, too!”

When Lucy blinked, the girl laughed and pulled on the shirt of the man next to her.

“She’s awake, Calvin,” the girl chirped. “She’s awake and she’s starin’ right at me.”

Slowly, the man turned and faced Lucy, looking at her over the upholstered seats. “I apologize,” he murmured, his expression pained. “My sister Katie doesn’t always know when to leave others alone. We’ll try to not bother you again.”

As the haze of sleep floated away, Lucy suddenly realized