Amish Outsider

by Marta Perry

  “We had a picnic at Aunt Sarah’s. Onkel Lige made hamburgers on the grill. And afterward we had s’mores.” She had a satisfied smile. “It was easier than when we have church.”

  Cathy chuckled. “I suppose so. Was it hard to sit still for so long in church last Sunday?”

  Allie seemed to consider whether she should be honest. “A little bit,” she said at last.

  “When I was your age, I thought the benches got harder and harder. When I got the wiggles, my mamm would do something to distract me.”

  “Like what?”

  Allie sounded so interested that she suspected Verna hadn’t anticipated the needs of an eight-year-old. “Well, she’d make a little doll for me out of a handkerchief—like a baby in a cradle. I could play with it.”

  “Do you think Aunt Verna knows how to do that?”

  Cathy smiled. “If she doesn’t, I’ll show her how. All right?”

  Allie nodded. “I liked the songs, but I didn’t know the words like everybody else.”

  “You’ll remember them soon enough. Some we sing every time, so they’ll be easier. And you’re wonderful good at remembering.”

  “Like spelling words,” she said. She grew silent, her face somber, as if remembering something unhappy. “Did those policemen think that Daadi was the one who pushed Mommy down the stairs?”

  For a moment Cathy was too stunned to reply. Did Michael realize that Allie knew how Diana had died? She’d certainly had the impression that he’d tried to protect Allie from the details of her mother’s death.

  Allie was looking at her, expecting an answer. She had to say something. “What makes you think that was what happened to Mommy?”

  “I’m not supposed to know. When I stayed with Mr. Alan and Ms. Beth, they pretended everything was okay. But I heard them talking when they thought I was asleep.”

  Cathy wasted a moment on hopeless anger at someone who’d allow a child to hear something that upsetting. Why hadn’t they taken precautions?

  Too late for that now, and she had to deal with the question. And while remembering her promise never to lie to Allie.

  What would Michael think? Well, no matter how angry it made him, she couldn’t fob Allie off with feeble excuses or outright lies. And surely, knowing as much as she apparently did, it was better for Allie to talk about it than hoard it to brood over.

  “I think the police are still trying to find out what happened to your mommy. So they wanted to ask your daadi some more questions. Just in case he remembered something else.”

  Allie frowned. “Didn’t he tell them what he remembered before? He went to help the police. That’s why I stayed with Mr. Alan and Ms. Beth.”

  “People can remember something long afterward.”

  “Mostly I forget things after a long time.”

  This was proving a lot harder than she’d anticipated, especially since she kept seeing Michael’s face, his eyes glaring at her. She scoured her brain for an example.

  “Once when I was a little older than you are, my daadi came in the house carrying a piece of torn-off paper with a star on it. I hadn’t thought about it in months, but all of a sudden I remembered that I had been carrying my arithmetic test home from school a long time earlier. I was so eager to show Mammi that I took a shortcut across the field where the bull was. He chased me, and I had to run as fast as I could to get away. I was so relieved to be safe that I never even thought about my paper, until Daadi found it stuck on a raspberry bramble.”

  Allie had listened intently, but Cathy suspected she was more interested in the bull than the point of the story.

  “I wouldn’t go in a field with a bull. No matter what.” Her tone was emphatic.

  Maybe it was just as well. At least she was distracted from the subject of the police.

  “Do you think Daadi remembered anything?”

  Apparently she’d been wrong. Cathy chose her words carefully. “I don’t know. You could ask him.”

  That didn’t seem to satisfy her. Allie walked in silence for a few more minutes. When she did speak, she didn’t look at Cathy. “I might remember something.”

  It took her breath away for an instant. Then she tried to respond calmly. “If you do, you should tell Daadi about it.”

  “Even if he doesn’t like to talk about what happened?”

  Feeling she was in over her depth, Cathy could only respond in the way that seemed right. “Even then. Talking to Daadi is the best thing you could do.”

  As if she’d called him, Michael appeared around the bend in the path, coming to meet them. Allie darted on ahead to greet him. Cathy reached them in time to hear the end of what Allie was saying.

  “...said that the policeman just wanted to know if you remembered anything else. That’s all.”

  To her surprise, Michael didn’t seem to resent what he might see as her interference. Maybe he realized it had been important to explain and reassure Allie. “She did, did she? That’s good.”

  “Allie asked me,” Cathy added, wanting him to understand how it had come about.

  “I see.” He shot her a grateful look before turning back to his daughter. “How about running ahead and seeing if Onkel Lige is waiting for me? I need to speak to Teacher Cathy.”

  Allie nodded, always glad to have an errand, and ran off.

  “I didn’t bring it up,” Cathy said once Allie was out of hearing. “I’m sure you’ve already explained it to her, but she seemed to need a little more reassurance.” She paused. “She’s coping with it, you know. I don’t think you need to worry too much about her reactions.”

  His jaw tightened. “Worrying seems to come with the territory. I never know whether it’s better to try and explain or to say as little as possible.”

  “It is difficult,” she admitted. “But I think it’s best to assume she needs reassurance.” She hesitated, realizing there was something she needed to bring up, even if it was difficult. “Did you realize that Allie knows how Diana died?”

  “What?” His dark brows drew together in a fierce frown. “What are you talking about? She doesn’t know anything about it. Don’t you think I was careful?”

  “I’m sure you were.” She spoke as cautiously as if she were treading on ice. “But someone wasn’t. She says she heard Mr. Alan and Ms. Beth talking about it. That’s the friend who came to see you, isn’t it?”

  He nodded, his face grim. “I thought they had better sense. If she knows...”

  “If she knows, you have to talk to her. It isn’t good for a child to be holding on to something that scary.”

  “No.” For an instant the muscles of his face quivered. “I was so sure. Stupid of me, I guess.”

  She hated to see him beat himself up over his parenting. He’d been put in a situation she couldn’t even imagine. “You were doing your best.”

  “It wasn’t good enough.” The anger in his voice was all for himself.

  “All anyone can do is their best.” She knew how trite it sounded even as she said it. Why couldn’t she find the words that would help him? Worse, she had to go on and tell him the rest of it—the thing that Allie only hinted at.

  “Michael, that’s not all. She said... She implied, anyway, that she remembered something she hasn’t talked about. I told her she should tell you.”

  He stared at her. “Impossible. She’s just a child. She couldn’t know anything, because she wasn’t there. Diana had taken her to Alan and Beth’s for the night. And if she did, she’d have said...” That trailed off, as if he knew it wasn’t true even as the words came out.

  Cathy hesitated, but she had to tell him why Allie was so compelled to keep silent. Even though she knew it would hurt him.

  “She won’t say anything because she’s sure you don’t want to talk about it.”

  He didn’t want to accept it—she could see the struggle
in his face. “She can’t...” The words trailed off into silence, and her heart hurt for him.

  “Allie isn’t unusual in reacting that way.” She forced herself to sound calm, even detached. He’d take it better that way. “Small children often hide things they don’t understand, worrying but not able to say it out loud for fear of making things worse. Anyone who works with children would tell you that. What they imagine is often worse than the truth.”

  “In this situation, the truth is surely worse.”

  “Perhaps. But if she knows a little, she probably needs to hear an explanation from you. Not details, of course, but enough to feel there’s not something worse lurking in the shadows.”

  They walked on in silence, and she began to think he’d forgotten she was there, deep as he was in his own thoughts.

  But when they reached the fork in the path and she started for home, he caught her arm.

  “Wait a second.”

  He looked so fierce she thought he intended to yell at her.

  “I should go...” she began.

  “Just wait a second.” He seemed to be coming to a conclusion. “Allie talks to you.” He grimaced. “Sometimes I think better than she does to me. I think you’d better be the one to ask her what she remembers.” He looked at her with a mix of hope and discomfort, as if he wasn’t used to asking for help.

  The thought was overwhelming. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not sure of anything just now. I had no idea she knew anything about how Diana died. If there’s more she’s holding back, I have to know, so I can deal with it.” His jaw clenched until she thought it would break. “Please, Cathy.”

  Her heart twisted. She was the one God had put in this place, so she had to do what she could. “Yah, if you think it will help.”

  “Good. I’ll get Allie. Meet us at the bench by the greenhouse.” He strode off as if determined to get it over with as quickly as possible.

  Cathy stood where she was for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts, but they scattered in all directions. What was she thinking to take this on? And yet how could she have refused? With a silent plea for guidance, she walked toward the greenhouses.

  Lige was busy in the first of the greenhouses, so it was simple to slip around to the bench without being noticed. Not that she wanted to hide from Lige, but the upcoming talk with Allie would be difficult enough without the need to make conversation with Lige when she was already so nervous.

  She reached inside herself for the calm core. She’d been put into this situation for a reason, she reminded herself. Anytime that she could help a child, she had to do it. She’d been given this gift, and it was meant to be used for others.

  Michael was back almost before Cathy had time to take a few deep breaths. Allie skipped alongside, holding his hand. When she saw Cathy, she scurried ahead and jumped onto the bench next to her.

  “Daadi said you wanted to ask me something, Teacher Cathy.”

  At the sight of the trusting little face, her courage almost failed her. Almost, but not quite. “Daadi and I were talking, Allie. He didn’t mean for you to think that you couldn’t talk to him about when your mommy died.”

  Allie shot a questioning look from her to Michael. She’d been afraid the child would be angry that she’d told Michael, but she didn’t seem to be angry—just uncertain.

  Michael responded, sitting down on the other side of Allie and taking her hand. “That’s right. You can talk to me or to Teacher Cathy about anything, and we’ll try to answer.”

  He glanced at Cathy, seeming to hand the ball over to her.

  Swallowing to ease the tight muscles in her throat, Cathy put her arm around Allie. “Do you remember anything from that day, Allie?”

  Again that uncertain glance. But whatever she saw in Michael’s face must have reassured her. She nodded. “I remember everything.”

  “Do you? What did you do in the morning?” It was in her mind to take her through the day first, just to get her talking.

  “I got up when the clock rang, and I got ready for school. And Mommy said hurry or I’d miss the bus, so I went out front.”

  “Did the bus pick you up in front of your house?”

  Allie nodded. “It picked up me and Kristin and Jamie from across the street.”

  “Did you have a good day at school?” At least she seemed to be talking easily. She leaned against Cathy, her head against Cathy’s arm.

  “It was okay. I like our school better.”

  Her heart warmed at the sweet thought, but they were approaching what might be a dangerous point. “So after school you rode the bus back home, I guess.”

  “Yah. When I got in the house, Mommy was sweeping the rug, but she stopped then. She said...” She frowned, as if with an effort to get it right. “She said I was going to go to Mr. Alan and Ms. Beth’s house for the night, so I should get ready.”

  “Did you like to go to Mr. Alan and Ms. Beth’s house to stay over?”

  She nodded, wiggling a little closer. “They’re nice. Ms. Beth likes to play Chutes and Ladders with me. We had supper, and Ms. Beth fixed hot dogs ’cause she knows I like them. And then Mr. Alan had to go out. But Ms. Beth and me played games until bedtime, so that was okay.” She was still for a moment and Cathy waited, giving her time to say anything else she wanted.

  Nothing. Was it because she didn’t want to talk about what happened the next day?

  Michael cleared his throat, as if he found it hard to speak. “Did Mommy say why you were going to spend the night?”

  Allie shook her head, but intuition told Cathy there was something else. “I’ll bet you guessed, though, didn’t you?”

  “I thought she was going to have company. Sometimes she did. And that day she’d fixed her hair and put on a new sweater, and when Mr. Alan picked me up he laughed and asked if she had a date.”

  Something seemed to have frozen inside Cathy. Michael had never given any hint that there had been someone else in Diana’s life.

  She risked a sidelong glance at him and winced. Michael looked as if someone had hit him with a two-by-four.

  Allie glanced at them, as if thinking they didn’t believe her. “Mommy did have company sometimes.”

  “Of course she did,” Cathy said, finding her voice with an effort. “Did you see any of her company?”

  “Sometimes.” Allie’s face eased, as if reassured that it was all right. “Ms. Beth and Ms. Barbara came for coffee, and they sat in the kitchen and talked, but I didn’t stay overnight then.” She paused. “One time I was looking out the window at Ms. Beth’s and I saw someone, but I didn’t know him. So maybe he was selling something.”

  “You’re sure you didn’t know him?” Michael’s voice had roughened with emotion, and Allie squeezed closer to Cathy.

  She hugged the child, sending a warning look at Michael. “It’s okay, Allie. Daadi isn’t mad.”

  “No, no, for sure I’m not mad.” He put his arm around Allie, too, so that their arms crossed each other, holding her snugly between them. “I just wondered if it were someone I knew. Did you see what he looked like?”

  But Allie seemed to have run out of surprises. She shrugged. “Just ordinary.” She wiggled again as if to get down this time. “Aunt Verna has lemonade and snickerdoodles today.”

  “You wouldn’t want to miss those.” She dropped a light kiss on Allie’s forehead. “I’m wonderful glad you talked to me.”

  “Me, too.” Allie slid down, then gave Cathy a throttling hug. “Do you want some snickerdoodles?”

  “Not today. My mamm is waiting for me to help her make rhubarb sauce. Another day.”

  Allie nodded. “Daadi?”

  “I’ll be there in a minute, pumpkin. Save a cookie for me, okay?”

  “Okay.” Allie ran toward the house. Maybe it was Cathy’s imagination, but it seemed to her tha
t something had lifted from the child’s mind.

  Unfortunately it had settled on Michael’s now, and he understood what it might mean.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly, thinking how much he must hate having that come out in front of her. “It might be nothing at all.”

  His face twisted. “Would you believe I never thought of it? Seems so obvious now. The whole thing—saying we needed time apart, insisting I move out—she’d met someone she liked better, that’s all.”

  “Michael, you don’t know that.” She put her hand over his to find it clenched into a tight fist.

  “What else could it be? I was so blind. Don’t you see? If she was expecting company that night, he must have been the person who killed her.”

  Her first instinct was to wince away from his words, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard any of this—she was too involved now to draw back.

  And if Diana had been expecting a man—a lover—that night, who else could have killed her? It hadn’t been Michael, so that left only her mysterious visitor.

  “You should tell the police...” she began.

  “I can’t. I can’t let them start questioning Allie. Think what that might do to a child.”

  He was right. The detectives would never take Michael’s word for it. They’d insist on talking to Allie, putting her right in the middle, with what could be terrible consequences.

  “But if you don’t tell them, he’ll get away with it.”

  His face hardened, and he wrapped his hand around hers, holding it so tightly it seemed she could feel the pulse thudding in angry beats. “That’s not all. If the police find out there was someone else, they’ll say it gives me a perfect motive for doing away with her.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AS SOON AS he’d said the words, Michael realized the full implication. He was trapped. He could see a possible way out of the nightmare and at the same time see it was closed to him.

  “Surely it’s better to speak the truth about it. If you hide this from the police, they may never know what really happened.”