Amish Outsider

by Marta Perry

  Well. That surprised her...she couldn’t deny it. She wondered if Mary Alice’s mother would approve. Probably not, but perhaps Mary Alice was developing a mind of her own.

  As for Allie...she suspected that the friendship the other children showed her would help her heal more than any words Cathy might say.

  * * *

  LIGE PICKED UP one of the ten-inch geranium pots and shook it gently, to be rewarded with a small shower of broken glass. He glanced at Michael and made a face.

  Michael shrugged. “We may have to ditch the lot of them.”

  “Ach, don’t give up so easy,” Lige said. “We’ll set them aside, and maybe we can figure out some way to save them.”

  It sounded like Lige had a lot more patience than he did. There were bigger problems facing them, like how to get all the broken panes replaced. A few of the frames were damaged as well—he’d guess the baseball bat had done that.

  “Even if we save those, we might not find anyone wanting to buy them. People tend to avoid a place once there’s trouble.”

  Lige stared at him for a long moment. “Out there, maybe.” His gesture seemed to indicate the world beyond the ridges. “Not in River Haven.”

  He’d like to believe that was true, but he couldn’t.

  They had moved one row of geraniums when Michael saw a buggy turn into the drive—Sarah, with the three younger children in the back. He headed toward the drive, intent on discouraging her from trying to take part.

  Aunt Verna emerged from the kitchen, where she’d been washing breakfast dishes, pulling on garden gloves. “Ach, Sarah, what are you doing here?” Obviously she felt the same way as he did. “Now, don’t say you’ve come to help. You have plenty to do with the kinder, and you won’t want them around the broken glass.”

  Sarah was already lifting down a basket and putting it in Michael’s hands. The two boys scrambled down on their own and stared wide-eyed at the greenhouse while Sarah lifted little Sally into Aunt Verna’s arms.

  “That’s a couple of shoofly pies and a box of sandwiches.” She nodded toward the basket. “Boys, you take that into the kitchen for Aunt Verna.”

  They cast a wistful glance toward where their daadi was working before obeying her.

  “The men will work up an appetite this morning, so we’d best start the coffee and get things ready.” Her voice was brisk, and she swept Aunt Verna toward the house as she spoke.

  “What men? Lige and I...”

  His sister gave him a mischievous look that transformed her into an eight-year-old. “Wait and see. I predict you’ll have more help soon.”

  Michael started to protest, but she didn’t wait around for it. And apparently she was right, because another buggy was turning in already—Lige’s two brothers and his daad, he realized quickly.

  Lige had come out at the sight of them, and he grinned at Michael’s expression. “Save your breath,” he said. “They’re here to help, and you won’t talk them out of it.”

  Oddly enough, he wasn’t even tempted to do so. This place must be having an effect on him. Or maybe it was the people. Lige’s family was probably here because of him, but their help would be most welcome.

  Throughout the morning, another eight men had shown up, including Cathy’s father, along with a handful of women carrying food into the kitchen. When he glanced toward the kitchen window, he could see what looked like a cheerful beehive of women, all talking and working at the same time.

  “It’s going fast,” Lige said as he and Michael pulled out a broken frame. He sounded satisfied, and it was no wonder. They’d completely emptied the greenhouse and were well underway with cleaning up the broken glass.

  “Yah, but it’ll need another trip to get the replacement glass.” How long would that take? And what would it cost? That should be on him, as he saw it.

  “At least it didn’t happen earlier in the spring,” Lige pointed out. “We’re not going to have frost now, so the plants will be safe enough outside.”

  He could stand to have a little more of Lige’s boundless optimism, he decided.

  He and Lige were both startled, it seemed, when a car pulled into the lane. Probably Lige was wondering, as he was, if the police had come calling again.

  Then he recognized the car—it was Mrs. Carpenter’s elderly station wagon. He and Lige exchanged glances.

  “I’ll talk to her. She must not have heard.” Michael walked quickly toward the car, trying to frame an explanation. But there wasn’t one, other than the truth.

  “Good morning.” He hurried to intercept her before she got out of the car. “I’m afraid we’re closed for repairs.”

  “Nonsense.” She shoved the door open abruptly and swung herself out, hanging on to it as she straightened. “You can always stop long enough to sell something.” She walked past him, headed straight for the rows of geraniums they’d put on the ground.

  “I could bring you anything...” he began, but as usual, she cut him off.

  “No need for that. Just load up these geraniums in the back of the wagon. I’ll take all you can fit in.”

  Lige had joined them by this time, and he protested. “We haven’t had a chance to check them all. There might be broken glass.”

  “Do I look like I’m afraid of a little glass?” she demanded, scowling at him. “Start loading them.”

  She definitely had Lige intimidated. He immediately started picking up pots.

  “Look, Mrs. Carpenter, we appreciate it, but I can’t let you pay for plants that might be damaged.”

  She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me who I pay. Lige will take the money, or I’ll leave it under a flowerpot. Mind you come by and give me that estimate. It’s time we got started on that railing.”

  He’d have continued to protest, but she’d already stumped off toward the car to supervise the loading. Resigned, he picked up an armload of pots. Despite their obvious differences, Mrs. Carpenter reminded him of Aunt Verna, and he never had been able to win an argument with her either.

  * * *

  CATHY TURNED THE buggy into the lane, smiling at the sight of Allie’s face when she saw workers swarming over the greenhouse. Phil Maggio’s truck was pulled up close, and he and two other Englischers were unloading glass panes that would replace the ones broken by vandals.

  “All those people are helping.” Allie’s expression was one of awe. “Look at them.”

  “’Course they are.” Ruthie bounced on the seat, as if ready to launch herself into the work party. “Look, there’s my daadi.”

  “Remember what we talked about this morning?”

  Allie met her gaze, and her smile transformed her serious face. “We’ll both count this one, ain’t so?”

  Cathy nodded.

  Ruthie, predictably, turned to Allie, her eyes alight with curiosity. “What do you mean? What are you counting?”

  “Good things,” Allie said softly. Suddenly she put her arm around Ruthie and hugged her, surprising Cathy as much as it did Ruthie. “You’re one of my good things.”

  Michael approached them, his gaze questioning. “I thought Allie and Ruthie were going to my daad’s place this afternoon.”

  “I received a message from Sarah to bring them here instead.”

  He gave each of the girls a hand as they jumped down. “See all the people who came to help us? That’s wonderful good, isn’t it?”

  “Did you ask them?” Allie said.

  Michael shook his head, smiling. “They just came. Now, I’ll bet Aunt Verna and the others could use your help in the kitchen.”

  The two of them consulted wordlessly. Then they ran off toward the kitchen.

  Cathy had to smile. “Those two have reached the point that they don’t need words to communicate. It’s nice to see.”

  “It is.” His brow furrowed. “How was Allie today? She seemed so
upset when she left that I wasn’t sure sending her was the right thing to do.”

  “Talk to her,” she suggested. “I think you’ll find being in school today was good for her. The other scholars rallied around, just as they should.” She nodded toward the greenhouse. “Just as the grown-ups did.”

  Michael leaned against the buggy seat as if prepared to chat. “I’d guess that the example set by Teacher Cathy had something to do with it.”

  She shook her head, smiling. “All I did was remind them who they are. That’s all.”

  “We all need that, I guess. When I see things like this, I think I know.” He gestured toward the men working on the greenhouse. “But sometimes it’s hard to be sure.”

  Cathy’s heart twisted. She knew what she hoped his answer was. But how could she be sure it was right for him? Impulsively she put her hand over his.

  “Give it time. It will come to you.”

  He glanced at her hand, and she took it away hastily. What was she thinking to be touching his hand where others could see and interpret?

  “I guess Sarah knew she’d be here helping, so it was best to pick up Allie and Ruthie here to bring to my father’s.” Michael turned, as if going to the kitchen.

  “I think there might be another reason.” Cathy had just spotted the man who emerged from behind the greenhouse. “Your daad is here.”

  “He’s not...” Michael began, and then fell silent as he, too, saw his father.

  Josiah Forster looked intimidating at the best of times, and his expression was stern as he approached his son. It suddenly occurred to Cathy that she was intruding. She picked up the lines.

  “I’ll get my buggy out of the way and then check in with Verna,” she said quickly. But Josiah had reached them already, and his sternness melted slightly at the sight of her.

  “Teacher Cathy.” He nodded in greeting. “You brought my granddaughters, yah? Denke.”

  “I was happy to do so.” Her own smile broke through at the thought of Josiah dealing with the two girls. “They chattered the whole way.”

  He couldn’t seem to hide the doting look in his eyes. “Ach, little girls are different, ain’t so?”

  She nodded, thinking it was high time she scooted. “I’ll just get out of the way.”

  Josiah stopped her with a hand on the buggy frame. “I’ll just keep Michael for a moment.” He turned to his son as if there had never been any estrangement between them. “Lige asks will you komm? He wants your opinion on the framing before we start.”

  For a moment it seemed Michael was too stunned to speak. Then he nodded. “Yah, fine. Let’s go, then.”

  Cathy watched them walk toward the greenhouse together. They were so much alike, allowing for the difference in ages...both tall and wiry, with the same glossy brown hair the color of a horse chestnut, though Josiah’s was sprinkled with gray.

  A little bubble of happiness teased her. If only this could be a new beginning for the two of them—that would go a long way toward allowing Michael to find his place.

  After she’d tied her horse to the hitching rail, Cathy walked back toward the house, pausing to wave at her father. Was it too much to hope that as Daad worked with Michael, they’d develop a liking for one another? It could be, but she suspected her motives for seeing that happen were totally selfish.

  Cathy stopped short of the porch when a car came sweeping up the lane...not the police car, but Chief Jamison’s own vehicle. He was being tactful, but he could have picked a better time to come.

  The car pulled up beside her, and Jamison got out. “Hi there, Cathy.” He glanced toward the greenhouse. “Looks like everyone is hard at work. Could you find Michael for me?”

  She nodded, heading for the spot where she’d last seen him. Was this good news or bad? Impossible to tell from Chief Jamison’s expression. She couldn’t stop apprehension from rising in her.

  Michael turned, seeing her and beyond her, the chief’s car. Their eyes met for a moment, and he nodded. As he started toward her, Cathy saw his father hesitate for a long moment and then follow Michael.

  Murmuring a probably incoherent prayer, Cathy returned to Jamison. “He’s coming. I—I’ll let you speak with him privately.”

  “No, stay.” He put out his hand to detain her. “I’ll need to show you something, too.”

  Feeling like an awkward fifth wheel, she lingered, hoping futilely that no one was noticing.

  “Michael. Josiah.” Jamison nodded to them. “Just wanted to let you know that we’ve got them—all three of them.”

  “That was fast.” Michael looked as surprised as she felt. “How?”

  Jamison’s eyes twinkled. “Not so hard. We found them bragging about it over beer at the Rusty Gate Tavern. Bartender called us.”

  “These men...were they people we would know?” Josiah asked, and Cathy thought she could hear apprehension in his voice. That was what she dreaded as well. That the vandals would be people they’d thought were friends.

  “I doubt it. Couple of lazy loafers who’d do anything for the price of a drink, and a teenager who’d come along for the ride.”

  Michael was frowning. “Does that mean you think someone put them up to doing it?”

  He’d been quicker than she was, but she saw it now, too. Why would random strangers suddenly decide to pick on Verna’s greenhouse?

  “Could be.” The chief was cautious. “They’re not talking, if so. But I haven’t given up on it. Thing is, it won’t be the first time the two older ones have spent thirty days in jail. As for the kid, well, I don’t believe he knows anything. Scared him enough to make him think twice, I hope.”

  “If someone incited them, then it’s not over.” Michael said the words evenly, but Cathy could sense the pain behind them, and her heart ached for him.

  “I can’t kid you. There’s no way of knowing unless one of them talks.” The chief pulled something from his pocket. “Here’s pictures of the three of them. Mean anything to you?”

  Michael took them, scanned them and shook his head. Josiah did the same. He started to hand them back to Jamison, but he shook his head.

  “Let Teacher Cathy take a look. Any of those faces familiar to you? Like maybe you might have seen them somewhere near the school?”

  “You think one of them might be the person who was spying on recess that day,” she said quickly, trying to keep him from mentioning the person who’d followed her and Allie from school.

  “Have a look anyway.”

  She took the photos warily, realizing that Josiah was as reluctant to hand them to her as she was to take them. But the faces were strangers.

  “No, I’ve never seen any of them.”

  Josiah spoke for the first time. “Whoever they are, we forgive them.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Jamison said. “But they’ve broken the law, and they’ll have to face the consequences.”

  Cathy’s thoughts honed in on Josiah’s words. He could forgive the vandals so easily. Couldn’t he forgive his own son?

  A moment later she had her answer. Josiah put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Komm. We’d best get back to work.”

  Another person might think that Michael was unmoved, but Cathy knew him too well for that. She read, so clearly, the sense of relief in his eyes.

  Whatever else this trouble might have done, it had closed the chasm between father and son, and her heart overflowed with gratitude.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE GREENHOUSE HAD been restored to like-new condition by the time folks began heading home. Michael was staring at it, still amazed, when Jacob King clapped him on the shoulder.

  “What’s wrong? Didn’t you think we could do it?” His grin took him back to when they’d both been about ten or so.

  “I knew you could. I just didn’t think you would.”

 
“You know better than that, ain’t so? The Leit would come together no matter what caused the trouble.” His bright blue eyes turned thoughtful. “Maybe even quicker when it’s an attack on one of us. Comes from all those stories they drummed into us when we were small from the Martyrs Mirror.”

  He found himself smiling. “I seem to remember you having nightmares of being crushed to death as punishment for being Amish.”

  “That was because my little brother was sitting on my chest when I was sleeping.” He shook his head. “Enough old times. Let’s get down to business.”

  “Business?” Michael looked at him blankly. “What business?”

  “My business. You’re a skilled builder. I have a construction business. Seems like a good fit. How about coming to work with me?”

  He wanted to jump at the chance, but his conscience wouldn’t let him.

  “Have you really thought that over? I’m not exactly popular these days. If I work for you, you might lose some jobs because of it.”

  “Ach, I’ve got more work than I can handle anyway.” Jacob’s good humor was unimpaired. “Besides, I always wanted an excuse to boss you around.”

  “You and who else?” he retorted, taken back to elementary school again. “If you’re sure, there’s nothing I’d like better.” Mrs. Carpenter popped into his mind. “Only thing is, I’ve been doing some jobs for Mrs. Carpenter in the evenings. I wouldn’t want to stop...”

  Jacob waved that away with his hand. “No problem. Lots of the guys do little jobs here and there. Long as you have the energy to do both, it’s fine with me. We have a deal?”

  “Yah, I guess we do. Denke, Jacob. I can’t tell you what it means—”

  “Save it. I’ve got somebody to pick up my crew, so he’ll come by around seven thirty tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be waiting at the end of the lane. And thanks, Jacob. For the job, and for today.”

  Jacob responded with another clap on the shoulder and marched off. Michael saw Aunt Verna intercept him before he’d gotten far. He’d have to listen to her thanks, too, even if it embarrassed him.