Silent Stranger

20 - The Betrayal

Sophie's Journal – Part Two

The Bible teaches how we shouldn't judge people, because the job of judging people belongs exclusively to God. I stopped short of passing judgment on my foster mother, Ruthie. At first, she was nice enough to me and treated me well, but I never grew comfortable living with her.

Why? She had cold eyes.

That may sound crazy, but when Ruthie smiled, her eyes remained cold, as if she wore a mask hiding an evil spirit dwelling within her body.

I thought it was my imagination. I blamed post-traumatic stress over losing my family. I wondered if it was guilt. If I grew to like her, it made me feel like I was betraying my dead mom and dad.

We lived above her baked goods store. Every morning we would get up before dawn and make all manner of pastries, cake, pies, and donuts. I enjoyed the work. The smells of sugar and vanilla baking in the ovens were divine. So different from my job of milking my family's cows and cleaning their stalls.

The store catered mostly to non-Amish customers who stopped by on their way to work for coffee and a donut or pastry. Most customers were friendly and respectful.

After a few weeks went by, just before closing time on a Friday afternoon, a man wearing a business suit entered the store. I was in the back sweeping the floor when I noticed him. Ruthie told me to stay in the back and that she would talk to the man.

Something I sensed about him made me nervous, so I quit sweeping and stood hidden behind the door to eavesdrop. I watched them through the crack in the door.

"I understand you have a package for me?" He asked after Ruthie greeted him.

She nodded, turned my way, and wore her cold-eyed smile. "Sophia, come out here a minute."

I didn't want to. Instinct told me I should run, but Ruthie was my foster mom. She wouldn't let anything happen to me, would she?

Trying to appear confident, I smoothed my apron and joined them. The man was maybe thirty years old and looked me up and down with undisguised lust.

"My name is Skip Sheaffer." He held out his hand inviting me to shake.

I remember how my hand trembled when I took his. He wouldn't let go and pulled me to a table, made me sit. Then he pulled up a chair in front of mine. Ruthie went into the back and left me alone with Mister Sheaffer.

"I'm Amish, just like you," he said. Then he corrected himself. "Well, I was Amish. I went on rumspringa when I was your age and never went back. Never joined the faith."

He paused, I figured to gauge my reaction. I looked toward the door wanting to escape. I sensed evil in the man.

He wore a contrite expression. "I know about your family. I'm sorry for your loss." His contrite expression changed to a sneer. "You're at the age when you should be on rumspringa, to see how the rest of the world lives, to make sure you're making the right decision about whether or not to join the faith. Losing your family is terrible, but it doesn't mean you can't enjoy your period of freedom. I remember what it was like to be sixteen, so I know I'm right."

He was wrong. I was still in mourning. Freedom from the faith was the farthest thing from my mind.

"I can help you with that," he said. "I own a big house in Minneapolis that I rent out to young ladies. Nice girls, friendly girls. It so happens I have an opening. I put the word out and Ruthie contacted me. Would you like to come with me to check it out?"

I shook my head. I wasn't going anywhere with him.

Ruthie joined us from the back and sat with us. I suspect she had been listening.