She needed information. If she could somehow form a female bond with them, she could build an alliance.
Guarding her thoughts, which was pretty much impossible around Grace, she forced a smile. Keeping things honest seemed the best way to earn their trust. Maybe then they’d help her.
“My mother died after I graduated high school. I never met my father.” Sixteen sentences exchanged over social media did not make a relationship. Nor did it prove linked DNA.
“Do you not have siblings?”
“None that I’m aware of.”
They were sitting in a very plain bedroom on a wooden bed covered in a maroon and cream quilt. Grace lowered herself to the mattress.
“Well, now you do. I make a wonderful sister.” She smiled brightly. “And you will love Cain and Larissa, though Cain can sometimes be a dummkup.”
“Grace,” Abilene quietly scolded. “Don’t listen to her, Anna. Cain’s an honorable male just like his brother, if a bit of a handful at times.”
A handful? If Adam’s brother liked to break the rules, maybe he’d help her escape. “How old is Cain?”
“Same as Adam, thirty-seven. They’re twins.”
“Thirty-seven? Wha—” That couldn’t be right. Adam’s skin still had that baby softness under his eyes and moved with the fluidity of water. There was no way he was three years from turning forty.
She glanced at the two women. Abilene could not have a thirty-seven-year-old son. And how old was Grace?
“How old are you?” she asked Adam’s sister.
“I’m twenty-one.”
And yet she looked no more than seventeen.
She supposed Amish families had children as long as they were physically able. She looked at Abilene. “Your children are sixteen years apart. That’s uncommon where I’m from.”
“The boys and Grace, yes. Larissa is older.”
Something was wrong here. Were the children adopted? The resemblance in their facial features hinted at a blood relation.
Abilene patted her hand and grinned. “Trust me, I’m much older than I appear.”
How much older?
Grace’s gaze shifted to her mother as she worried her lip. “She needs to talk to Adam. There’s much he needs to explain, and it shouldn’t come from us.”
Her body tensed. Going back to Adam meant more talk about crazy futures that wouldn’t happen. She needed these women to listen and help her.
Gripping Abilene’s hand, she pleaded, “I appreciate your hospitality, but I can’t stay here. I have a job and other responsibilities. I need to go home. Please help me.”
She needed shoes, but neither Abilene nor Grace wore a pair she could borrow. She needed a car or a horse. Could she ride a horse without seriously hurting herself? Probably not.
Money would help. If she had her phone, she could Uber her way out of here.
She could not stay here—with him. He wasn’t stable. His obsession with her, and whatever connection he thought they shared, was padded cell crazy.
Grace placed a gentle hand on her knee. “Once you get to know him, you’ll realize how lucky you are to belong to him.”
And things like that... It really freaked her out when they said things like that. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
The first twinge of a migraine took shape, throbbing at her temples. Her head felt poked and prodded. She hadn’t eaten enough, and nausea crowded the empty space of her stomach.
“I think she’s ill.” Grace winced. “Her headache’s blocking me.”
Annalise’s head slowly pivoted to face Adam’s sister. “Are you telepathic?”
She smiled but didn’t answer.
Abilene patted her hand and stood. “Perhaps Anna would like to clean up and dress for bed. Grace, find one of your sister’s sleeping gowns and show her the washroom. I’ll see what’s keeping Adam.”
But ... they said they’d answer questions. The little she learned about their family left her more confused than before.
“I slept all day.” There were no locks on the doors. Tonight, when they fell asleep, she could run. She forced a yawn. “But I am tired.”
She followed Grace to the back of the house where she opened a door. With the lack of electricity on the farm, the sky burst with stars, but nothing but blackness surrounded them.
Annalise hesitated. “Where are we going?”
“Oh, I forgot.” Grace pulled a metal lantern off a hook and lit the wick. A small outbuilding stood in the distance.
The cool grass pressed into the soles of her bare feet as she followed Grace across the lawn. A warm breeze teased her neck with a hair that escaped her bonnet. The scent of earth and openness consumed her, reminding just how removed they were from society.
She tried to guess what a mile looked like here. Would it be to the dark shape of a tree in the distance? Or maybe past the barn they passed earlier. How many miles to a road with actual people on it? And if the sun set about an hour ago, did that make it close to nine? The later it got the more difficult it would be to find help.