The Mennonite Womans Escape Pt 01

The Mennonite Woman's Escape Part 1

MIKE

I was finishing packing for my annual trip to Mexico at 6:00 a.m. when I heard someone knocking on the back door.

When I answered, it was Rachel, who had the booth beside mine in the flea market, standing there. We had worked side-by-side for many years, but neither had ever visited our homes. I could see she was very distressed. I had never seen her as anything but collected, in control, and content.

I asked her to "Come in and sit down." Before sitting, she deposited two cloth grocery bags beside the couch out of the way. After she sat down, I offered her some coffee or tea, and then I remembered that she probably didn't drink either.

She asked for "Tea. Please." and I quickly brought her a glass of sugar, milk, and lemon juice from a tray.

When I sat across from her, she seemed to be calming down slightly.

I asked, "Rachel, this is a pleasant surprise. What brings you here today?"

"Mike, are you getting ready to leave for Mexico now?" she asked slowly.

"Yes, I was about packed, and I plan on leaving about 9:00 a.m. today. Why do you ask?" I questioned wonderingly.

"I need a huge favor," Rachel said. "Over the last year, Benjamin, my husband, has been acting strange and talking crazy. He has taken to being violent towards me and others. I must get away! I'm asking if I can travel with you to Mexico.

I have money that I have saved, so I can support myself when we're there. I know this is a lot to ask, but we have been friends for several years, and I don't have anyone else to ask or anywhere else safe to go."

"What about your other family members and friends in the Mennonite community? Won't they help you?" I asked.

"You don't know the Mennonite community. No one will act against a husband or a church Elder. I want to disappear, and the best way I know of is to leave and go as far away as I can," she stated with determination.

After thinking about it for a few minutes, I answered, "You're welcome to come along, but do you have a passport? "

"Yes, I do. Two years ago, we visited some of my husband's family in Germany, and we had to have a passport then," she answered.

"It seems like you had thought about this before. But when they can't find you, will the Elders go to the police?" I questioned.

"Yes, I think my husband will say I was abducted or wandered away and met with an accident to the police.

I think if I change my appearance, no one will see me. Everyone will be looking for a typical Mennonite woman. Over the last few months, I have bought clothing that would fit me.

I think that if I was wearing other clothing and my hair was uncovered and cut, much shorter people wouldn't see me." She replied.

Again, after thinking this over for a few minutes, I could see she was probably right. Most of the time, when you see a Mennonite woman, all you see is a Mennonite woman, but not the person inside the dress or the hair covering.

I also thought of the conversations we'd had in the past, and for a long time, I had thought of her as a friend.

Finally, I said, "You're more than welcome to go with me."

She thanked me, picked up the two bags, asked for the bathroom, and disappeared.

A few minutes later, she came out dressed in a tan-colored jogging suit and tennis shoes. Her head was uncovered, and most of her hair seemed to be down her back inside the top. As she came out, she put a baseball on her head, turning it backward.

I was surprised to see she had reddish blonde hair because you didn't know that, as she always wore the bonnet on her head. She also seemed to have a much better shape in those clothes than what she had normally worn.

She now had a paper bag that she placed on the floor by the door and asked, "Where could I get rid of this small bag?"

"Are those the clothes you wore here?" I asked.

"Yes, they are. That is the last time I will wear clothes like these. They're a sign of my life up until now. I want to be better and different.

Besides, if the police stopped us and searched the truck, they would find them and know who I was. They might even think you kidnapped me," she said.

"I hope not. I don't want to go to jail. We'll drop the bag into a dumpster when I fill up a couple of miles down the road," I said.

"I've heard you talking about your trips to Mexico over the last few years to your friends and me. Can you tell me where we go from here? I want an overview of the trip down to the city we are going to," she asked.

We sat down, and I told her, "Usually when I leave here, I drive to the border, see a couple of friends, and stay with them overnight.

Early the following day, I got my visa and the stickers for my truck and trailer. Then, I cross the border and drive about halfway to where I'm going to stay overnight.

The next morning, I get up and drive till late afternoon when I arrive where I'm going.

I have rented a small house again for three months. I use that as a center point for meeting friends and looking for the stock to sell at the flea market. That's what I'm planning on doing again. That is the overview. Any questions so far?"

"Is there somewhere I can stay overnight alone along the way and close to where you're staying?" She inquired.

"My friends will not be at their apartment this time. They're on vacation in Belize right now. They have a two-bedroom apartment, which I'm going to stay in. You are more than welcome to stay in the other bedroom, and there are locks on the doors. The only difference with you staying there with me is the maid will have to change the sheets from two beds instead of one.

The same is true when I stop midway. There are two beds in each of the rentals, but they are in a shared room.

Also, the house I rent has three bedrooms, so the most you would have to pay is part of the rent if you feel you must.

"You could also rent a room at each stop and stay alone," I explained.

"I think I can trust you, and it would draw less attention to me staying with you. So thank you, we'll do it just that way," she said, smiling.

"I'm wounded with the trusted answer because no man likes to be trusted by good-looking women when they are staying with them," I said, grinning.

She blushed at my answer.

The next few minutes were spent with me prepping the house to be closed for three months. I had to take time shutting off the hot water, setting the sprinklers, and that type of thing. I unlocked the truck so Rachel could get in and put her bags in the back. After setting the alarm, I came out, got in the truck, and drove off.

It was funny watching the woman, who was about 5'8" tall and medium-sized, trying to hide by sliding down into the passenger seat so no one could see her until we were out on the highway.

As I drove, I asked her if she could drive.

She said, "I learned and got a license when they were harvesting on the farm when help was needed, and also when Benjamin had broken his leg, I had to drive him everywhere. I also drove to the flea market most of the time."

"Did you ever drive with a trailer like mine?" I questioned.

"Yes, I did many times when taking grain to the elevator." She added, "I enjoyed driving, but it was not acceptable for a woman to drive in our church's culture."

I told her she could practice when we were not driving at highway speeds. Then she could help me drive if she wanted. She seemed pleased with that.

The three-hour trip seemed much quicker with someone to talk to. When we pulled up to my friend's apartment, Rachel saw a beauty shop across the street.

After I parked in the backyard, we went to the apartment and settled in. Rachel asked, "If it was okay if she went to the beauty shop."

"Rachel, you don't have to ask my permission for what you want to do. I appreciate, "You telling me where you're going so we can make plans. No more than that." I answered.

She agreed and left. After about two hours, I began to wonder if Rachel had gotten lost or if something else had happened when Rachel came in the door. I thought the change in her appearance was dramatic because she had cut her hair to just past shoulder length and had it styled.

With her eyes flashing, she asked, "Do you like it?"

"Yes, it is very flattering. It changes your total look and makes you look younger." I answered.

Smiling, she questioned, "How old do you think I am?"

"Let me see. Well, I heard last year you had been married for 25 years. So, I guess 26×20 would cause you to be about 46?" I answered.

"Yes, I've been married 26 years, but that only makes me 38," she simply answered.

"But that makes you 12 when you are married, and your daughter seems to be in her 20s. How can that be?" I stammered.

"My daughter, Nadine, was born right after my 13th birthday. That is the way things were then and somewhat still are," she answered simply.

"Let's change the subject, she said and added, "When I had my hair cut, I was able to donate it to Locks for Love, and they said that they would cut it into several different lengths for different people to receive it. That thrilled me, and they took pictures of the haircut," she said proudly.

I had turned down the Oldies music I had on when she returned, but after our talk, I turned it back up a little. She seemed interested in the music, and as we listened, I asked, "What do you think about me reading for a few minutes and then us going to supper? There are some magazines and paperbacks on the side table over there." I was pointing as I said it.

"I'd like that very much. Could I ask for two more favors, please? I want to stop at a used bookstore and also buy a few pieces of clothing I don't have," she asked.

"That won't be a problem. It is early, and we have nothing else to do. Do you want to go shopping before or after supper?" I answered.

"Supper first, please. I haven't eaten anything all day because I was nervous about asking you to let me go with you," she said.

"What kind of place do you want to eat at?" I inquired.

"I have never eaten anything except trades with friends at the flea market or food of the members of the Mennonites," she stated.

"You mean to tell me that you have never eaten out in your entire life? That's almost un-American. What kind of food do you like?" I asked, thinking of all the different foods from all over the world that I had eaten in Mexico.

"I guess I'm used to home-cooked bland food. We always grew our food for our table, except for staple ingredients we bought from the church coop. I have tried the foods of my friends and some of my regular buyers. Some of them were spicy, and I liked them," she answered me.

"Since we're going to Mexico, I won't introduce you to Mexican food here. That leaves a myriad of different foods to try. What have you heard that sounded good to you? " I asked.

"Pizza, as I often wondered what it was like, but I was told that people's breathe smelled bad when they ate it. But that was Benjamin's opinion. So yes, I would like to try a pizza," she said, smiling.

There was a mall close with everything we needed. First, I asked if she wanted to walk. Then, thinking about it, I asked her, "To drive us to the mall."

"Could we do both? I drive you around to show you how I drive and then walk to the mall?" she questioned.

"Okay. No problem. Do you like to walk? In Mexico, I walk almost everywhere, "I asked.

"Yes, I've always liked to walk, but with these clothes, more so. I like feeling freer in these clothes than before," she answered.

So we went for a drive. She was driving an automatic, so that was a surprise to her. She was a good driver. We returned to the apartment, and she parked it in the same place as before.

Then we walked three blocks to the mall and stopped first at the pizza parlor. We were seated on the patio facing the mall and handed menus. I glanced at mine and then watched Rachel stare at hers in wonder.

Finally, she looked up at me and said, "I don't know what half of these items are, so how am I to pick out what to put on my pizza?" she seemed almost apologetic.

I grinned and said, "Why not order a pizza with everything? At the bottom of the menu, they have a pizza called the kitchen sink. The joke is if you put everything in something you say it has everything, but the kitchen sink. I like pizzas with everything, so why don't we buy a huge one and share it? Whatever you don't like, slide it onto my side. What would you like to drink?"

"I would like ice tea, please." She said, smiling.

I ordered it for us, and while we were waiting, we talked as she kept looking at people walking by and seeing how they acted in public.

Fifteen minutes later, the giant 12-item cheese-covered pizza arrived. I hid my laugh at her expression at the pizza. It would have hurt her. I slide two pieces on each of our plates. She looked at it for a minute and then, with a fork tried each different topping, cheese, and crust. Then she picked up a slice and nibbled on it but quickly got to normal-sized bites. After she finished the first two slices, I slid two more onto her plate.

"I won't be able to eat all of this, but I don't want it to go to waste," she said slowly.

"We can put the leftovers in a to-go box for later today or tomorrow. Sometimes it is good to order with the thought of leftovers," I explained.

"Good. I like pizza, even the pineapple," she exclaimed.

I asked for a to-go box, and I told her I had a couple of places to go to and I would meet her in the reading room at the bookstore, or I could meet her at the apartment. She agreed to meet me in the reading room.

I went to a local used tool and equipment vendor and looked at his used items for something to sell later in Mexico, but nothing caught my interest.

I wandered over to the used bookstore. I found and bought a used hardback about a supervolcano eruption in South America, and I was just in the middle of the third chapter when Rachel came in. She asked me to watch her packages while shopping for books, which wasn't a problem.

By the time she returned with a bag of books, I had just finished two more chapters. She picked up her other packages, and we went to the apartment. I offered to carry the packages, but smiling, she said she was happy to carry them.

We walked back to my friend's apartment, talking about the day as we went. Rachel said, "This was the calmest and most relaxing day she had had in years, even with being so scared about leaving her husband and asking me to let her go with me to Mexico."

Shortly after getting back to the apartment, we listened to music and read until after the 10 o'clock news, when there was no report of her missing. We went to bed shortly afterward as we had a big day tomorrow.

I stopped at a drive-thru in the morning and ordered coffee, milk, and breakfast sandwiches.

We drove across the border and stopped for our visas and decals for the truck and trailer.

I drove most of the way using toll roads, stopping once for gas and food after we had eaten the cold pizza. Rachel helped me drive over 2 hours to the midway point, where I had made a reservation for the night.

When we checked into the room, Rachel had to inspect everything because she had never seen the inside of a motel. Then she wanted to walk around and see the resort.

So I stayed at the room's patio catching up on e-mails and with business dealings for about 2 hours while Rachel explored the area around the motel and the local area.

When she finished exploring the area, we walked across the street to a well-known local restaurant. When we walked into the typical Lower Mexican-styled décor, Rachel was awe-struck.

She had seen the Tex-Mex and Mexican fast food vendors at the flea market but never sat down in a place like this. It had brightly colored turquoise walls, huge tan tiled floors, posters, and pictures of Mexican scenes. There was low music playing in the background. The smell of food made me hungrier than I had already been.

We were met and greeted by "Senior Mike Buenas Noches," when the friendly owners greeted us. I introduced Rachel as a friend catching a ride down with me.

We were taken to the table in the back I'd always liked and given Menus. I already knew what I wanted, but I watched Rachel read every choice, frowning for the second night.

This menu was also full of new, untried foods.

Finally, she asked, "I've never eaten any Mexican food. The food they had at the Flea Market didn't look or smell good, and you didn't eat it. I heard you talking about your love for Mexican food. So I didn't try it."

"Yes. I love the food here and where we are going. I suggest you ask Juan and Maria for a sampler of small pieces of different dishes. Tell him why, and you will make them happy to show you their food," I answered.

When Juan returned, she asked for the sampler, and they talked briefly about her likes and spices.

I ordered the Green Chicken Mole, rice, and vegetables.

A few minutes later, Juan and Maria brought out my order of Green Chicken Mole.

For Rachel, they had a round platter of about twenty different samples, two bites of each, vegetables and rice.

Juan and Maria walked back almost to the kitchen, where they could watch and see if Rachel liked their food.

Rachel timidly asked, "What she had on her plate, and I told her what they all were after I looked up about four of them on the menu."

She started eating one piece in a spiral from the outer edge of the plate inward. After a few minutes, she finished the first round. She looked at me and asked for a taste of my Mole, which made her eyes open wide.

She opened her bag, pulled out a pencil and paper, and had me write the items' names she pointed at. Then she asked for the rest. She looked at me and grinned. "The first list is the ones I want to order a meal of first, and the second is for food I want to try again after I understand this food better."

Then she looked up, smiled, and made motions of rubbing her stomach for Juan and Maria. Then, she picked and chose the order of the bites she ate. She ate slower and slower but finished the entire plate.

I waved Juan and Maria over and asked them to sit with us. Rachel and I talked about their food and how to prepare it. I sat back and watched this scared, quiet, proper lady calm down and open up with them.

We talked for some time before walking around town and then back to the motel. I suggested a swim, but she answered that she couldn't go swimming yet, but that I should go ahead.

After gathering up clothes for the pool and a shower afterward, before leaving, I handed her the keycard and said I would knock before entering. I was in the pool and hot tub for about an hour, and when I knocked, she told me the door was open. When I came in, she was covered up to her neck in the bed. I quickly slipped into bed myself. Tomorrow was another long day.

The alarm went off at 6:00. We got up and dressed -- Rachel in the bedroom and me in the bathroom. We quickly reloaded the truck. Then we went in to eat bacon and eggs at the motel café, which had fair food at high prices. We ordered deconstructed club sandwiches, chips, and drinks along the way. By 7:30, we were on our way.

We shared the driving on the toll roads to Guadalajara and on to San Antonio Tlayacapan, which is between Chapala and Ajijic, getting there late in the afternoon. We only stopped for gas and bathroom stops.

I drove for the last 120.70km (seventy-five miles) because Rachel couldn't keep her eye off the sights on both sides of the road and the people. She kept saying this is the Mexico I heard about from you and your friends talking about it.

When I pulled into San Antonio Tlayacapan and turned off the paved road onto the river rock paved narrow streets, which are common in Mexico. Rachel grabbed hold of the sway bar for dear life for the first few blocks until she got used to the sway and bouncing from the road.