Amish Outsider

by Marta Perry

  “Denke, Michael. I...I wish I could be a person who’d do that.”

  He was silent for a moment, and then he shook his head. “I guess you have to be true to yourself. Just don’t forget that you’re a strong person, too, and you’re important to all those children. There’s nothing false about you. You—” He stopped abruptly.

  He’d seemed to be talking about her, but she suspected someone else had been in his thoughts, prompting what he’d said.

  “What is it, Michael?” she said, keeping her voice soft and her eyes on the piece of twine that she was winding around her fingers. “Something about Diana, ain’t so?”

  His jaw tightened so much it seemed it would shatter. “Diana.” He repeated the name, and she sensed a struggle between the need to speak and the desire to keep silent. “I talked to my old neighbor last night,” he said abruptly. “A guy named Alan Channing. A friend—well, I thought he was a friend.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “That was before I knew he’d had a thing for Diana.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her gasp, which was probably just as well.

  “Not an affair, he claimed.” Michael might have been talking to himself. He seemed totally unaware of her in that moment. “Just a kiss or two. As if that made it better.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She couldn’t find anything else to say.

  He focused on her suddenly. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you’re the only one I can say it to.”

  “Of course you should be telling me. You have to confide in someone.”

  “That’s not the worst of it. He’s convinced there was someone else—the man Allie saw. The friend.” His voice rasped on the word.

  “But, Michael—” Realization hit her. “That could be the one. The person who killed her. Did he tell the police?”

  “No. And he won’t. He’s too busy trying to keep his own infatuation secret.”

  “But you could tell them what he said. They could look for him.”

  “They could, but they won’t. Without Alan to back me up, I have nothing, except more motive for me.”

  “But surely—” Wouldn’t he tell the truth if questioned by the police? Surely someone who’d been a friend wouldn’t let Michael go on suffering.

  Cathy had to force herself to face the obvious truth. If the man had a conscience, he wouldn’t have stayed silent this long.

  She didn’t want to give up on the chance. Surely there was some way to make him speak. But Michael clearly didn’t think so.

  “So that means there’s a killer in Harrisburg walking around free when he should be paying for his crime. If Alan won’t speak, he never will.”

  “The chief knows that Diana had a male visitor,” she pointed out. “That alone should be enough to make the Harrisburg police take it seriously, even if Alan won’t talk.”

  “I wish I could be sure it would work out that way. I’m just afraid of doing the wrong thing with Allie. What if the police pursue it and want to question her themselves? I’m trying to keep her out of it, not push her into the middle of it.”

  “I know.” Heedless of whoever might be watching, Cathy put her hand over his. “I can’t answer that—I don’t know enough. But think about it. You could see what Chief Jamison says. He’s a good man. He wouldn’t want to do anything that might hurt Allie.”

  He didn’t move for a moment, and she thought he wasn’t going to respond. Then his fingers tightened on hers before withdrawing, and his face relaxed a little. “You always look on the bright side, don’t you? I just wish I could do the same.”

  * * *

  THE VAN TAKING the crew to work the next day passed through a pair of modernistic pillars and onto the grounds of the Maple Crest Retirement and Convalescent Community. Michael eyed what seemed like acres of rolling lawns dotted with buildings, and nudged Jacob.

  “Pretty fancy, isn’t it? And Randy Hunter owns all this?”

  “Owns? Not a chance.” Jacob gestured toward a street of duplexes, each with its own garage and pocket-size yard. “The residents own those, but ownership returns to the corporation when they move on to another level of care. Some big corporation owns the whole thing, and Randy manages it for them.”

  “Quite a position. I wouldn’t have thought he was up to it.” The kid he’d known had been a follower, not a leader.

  Jacob shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t think he is. He certain sure fusses a lot. You wait—see if he doesn’t come out while we’re working with a half dozen things he’s reconsidered.” He shook his head. “As if we couldn’t put up a gazebo without him standing over us.”

  “That’s the job, then?” He should have been showing more interest in what they were doing, instead of just seeing it as work to keep him too busy to think.

  “Yah. There’s a nice little courtyard where they have what they call the memory care unit. We’re doing a good big gazebo in the middle, so the patients...residents, they call them...can sit out in the shade.”

  There wasn’t time for more, since their driver was already pulling up at the destination. The men scrambled out, and in a moment were unloading tools and equipment.

  “Vans can’t pull into the site, so we’re carting everything through those doors. Everybody, grab what you can, and we’ll use the hand truck for the bigger things.”

  It took several trips, but eventually everything had been assembled in the middle of a grassy plot. By then they’d attracted an audience—a number of older people lined the wide windows facing the courtyard. Michael spotted an elderly man at one of the doors, obviously wanting to come out. A woman in a pale pink uniform seemed to be discouraging him.

  Jacob noticed the direction of his gaze. “They agreed to keep the residents inside while we’re working. Not that I mind folks watching, but I sure wouldn’t want anybody to get hurt.”

  “You said this was the memory care unit?” A hazy memory connected with that was trying to surface. “Is that where Diana’s grandmother is?”

  “Guess so.” Jacob frowned. “Is that a problem?”

  “Not for me. And I don’t suppose she’d know me if she spotted me anyway.” He’d only met her once, and that had been enough for him.

  Jacob set the men to work quickly. The foundation had been laid, so they could start framing out the building. It would be good-size as far as gazebos went, but not a big job for a crew like this. He suspected Jacob saw it as a step toward bigger projects. A place like this could be a profitable client for a small construction crew.

  The work went smoothly, almost too smoothly for Michael. It gave him too much time to think, and none of his thoughts were very pleasant. Sometime in the night it had occurred to him that he’d accepted Alan’s explanation at face value. How did he know that Alan’s relationship with Diana was as minimal as Alan wanted him to think?

  If they had been more deeply involved...if Diana had been pressing him for a commitment...somehow he didn’t think Alan would have been ready to throw over his comfortable life and promising position as the boss’s son-in-law for a new love. Maybe he had been Diana’s path to having the life she’d wanted.

  A desperate man could do desperate things. He’d accepted Alan’s friendship and support after Diana died. He’d believed him to be a friend. He certainly hadn’t been that, on his own admission. How much further might his relationship with Diana have gone?

  Michael tried to stand back and look at the situation dispassionately, but it was impossible. Maybe Cathy had been right. Maybe he should talk to the police about Alan’s admission.

  He probably shouldn’t have talked about it to Cathy, but it had become the most natural thing in the world to confide in her. And she must feel the same, or she wouldn’t have told him as much as she had about her problem. If only he could get her to see what a good, strong woman she really was, and how much all of those children needed her. He’d grown
to care so much for her, almost without realizing it was happening. Now it was too late to go back. Even if they could never be together, he was a better person for loving her.

  Think about something else, he commanded himself. Anything else.

  A distraction presented itself almost immediately. One of the doors had opened, and a figure stepped into the courtyard and started purposefully toward them. Not a patient—it was Randy Hunter.

  He wasn’t dressed for jogging this time. Instead, he wore a tailored suit...gray, lightweight...that fit his slight frame so perfectly it was clear he hadn’t bought it off the rack. He looked like a man who fit in at a place with extensive, rolling lawns and expensive amenities.

  Mindful of Randy’s attitude the previous time they’d bumped into each other, Michael moved behind an upright, letting a couple of the other guys screen him. No use in causing trouble for Jacob right off the bat.

  From his position he could hear Randy well enough without necessarily being spotted. Dressed just like the other workmen, he blended into the background. After all, Randy’s business was obviously with Jacob. He was already saying something about the plans.

  “Are you sure you’re following the plans we drew up? It doesn’t look as large as I’d expected it to.” Fussy, like Jacob had said.

  “All according to the plans.” Jacob handed over a sheaf of papers. “See for yourself. Those are the plans you signed off on.”

  Randy made an annoyed little clucking sound, like a hen disturbed on its nest. “It seemed larger on the plans. Really, I don’t know...”

  “The foundation has already been poured,” Jacob pointed out. “If you want it larger, it will add considerably to the cost.”

  “I suppose it’ll have to do.” He still had that discontented note in his voice, as if his whole life was a series of small disappointments. “Just be sure you finish on time. I don’t want to have to keep the residents penned up inside a moment longer than necessary in this nice weather. I’m not sure it wouldn’t have been better to delay this project until the fall.”

  By this time Jacob had turned back to his work, apparently taking the balance of Randy’s complaints for granted. Michael had to suppress a grin. Randy hadn’t changed that much, not really. He might wear a suit and tie now, but he was still the one who stood back and let other people make the first move.

  Funny, even in that memorable fight when Guy had decided he’d overstepped the bounds by dating Diana, Randy had stayed well on the sidelines, looking poised to fade away from the hint of trouble.

  Michael turned to look up and check one of the support braces just as Randy moved back, leaving a clear line of sight between them. For an instant their gazes crossed. Randy’s face stiffened.

  “Jacob!” He snapped the name in a tone that seemed to surprise even himself.

  As Jacob turned to him, he gestured toward Michael. “What is that man doing here?”

  Jacob assumed the blank expression they used to call his “dumb Dutchman” look when they were kids. “What man?”

  “Michael Forster. You never said you were bringing him on this job.”

  “I never said I was bringing Isaac King or Joseph Kohler either.”

  “You know what I mean.” His anger was giving Randy a more emphatic tone. “I don’t want—”

  “We don’t discriminate on my jobs.” Jacob’s tone was final. “It’s against the law, ain’t so?” he added, with a craftiness that surprised Michael.

  “That...that’s not the point.” Randy seemed to be losing some steam. “You ought to know...to know Mrs. Wilcox is a resident here. Seeing him might upset her. He’ll have to leave.”

  Jacob straightened. “Anybody leaves, we all leave.” As if it were a signal, the other men put down their tools. The courtyard went suddenly silent.

  Michael’s momentary amusement was replaced by guilt. He didn’t want to be the cause of Jacob losing what was probably a lucrative contract because of him. He opened his mouth to say so, but Joseph, standing next to him, gave him a nudge. He nodded toward Randy.

  Sure enough, Randy was backing off. Literally. He took several steps backward, clearly looking for a way out of the situation he’d brought on himself.

  “Maybe you could keep Mrs. Wilcox away from the windows on this side,” Jacob suggested.

  “Yes, yes, I suppose so. The nursing staff ought to be able to do a simple thing like that, given how much we pay them.” Randy had found an alternative scapegoat. “I’ll have to see to it.” He scurried away.

  Unaccountably moved, Michael cleared his throat. “Denke,” he said.

  “Can’t let him get the upper hand,” Jacob said easily. “Else we’d be here till Christmas doing this project. Forget it. We have.”

  True enough. The men were turning back to their work as if the incident had been an entertainment put on to break up the day. He followed suit, not sure what he’d done to deserve the loyalty he was receiving.

  Nothing, that was the answer. They behaved that way because he was one of them in their eyes, at least. If not in his.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CATHY’S HELPER AT school was supposed to be Mary Alice Stoltzfus. She wondered whether she’d actually show up. Somewhat to her surprise, Mary Alice walked into the schoolroom behind the last group of older boys and girls.

  Turning from greeting each of the scholars, Cathy received a shock. Mary Alice looked paler than ever, and her eyes were red rimmed, obviously with weeping.

  “Mary Alice, what’s wrong?” She reached out to the girl without thought.

  “Nothing.” Mary Alice evaded her eyes, but she clung to Cathy’s hand for a moment.

  “I can see you’re upset.” She kept her voice low. “If you’d rather not come in today...”

  “My mother wanted me to stay home. Because of the school board meeting tonight. But I wouldn’t.” A little spurt of defiance sounded in her voice. “I said I’d help today, so I’m here.”

  If Mary Alice had actually defied her mother, it must surely be for the first time. Cathy wasn’t quite sure what to think about that, but she gave the girl an encouraging smile before moving toward her place at the front of the room.

  So the school board meeting was tonight, and no one had notified her. Did that mean the board had already made a decision? Surely they wouldn’t do that without hearing what others in the church had to say.

  Of course, she didn’t normally attend school board meetings, nor did any of the parents. The board’s work was primarily taken up with repairs to the building and decisions on new purchases. There was seldom anything in that to draw a crowd. But apparently tonight’s meeting would be different.

  It was harder than she’d expected to cultivate an attitude of reliance on God’s will when she thought of losing her job. Maybe she’d better try harder.

  Ruthie approached her desk, clutching a handful of violets. “These are for you, Teacher Cathy. Because we love you.”

  She had to blink back a rush of tears as she accepted the damp flowers, their stems hot from being clutched in Ruthie’s plump little hand all the way to school.

  “Denke, Ruthie. That was very thoughtful of you. Mary Alice, will you put some water in a small cup for the violets?”

  Mary Alice nodded, heading for the cloakroom, and Cathy realized that Ruthie was actually glaring as she watched Mary Alice.

  Her heart sank. If the Stoltzfus family got what they wanted and replaced her with Mary Alice, she feared the girl wouldn’t have an easy time of it with the scholars. At least certainly not with Ruthie, who had undoubtedly already decided where she stood on the subject.

  “You may take your seat, Ruthie,” she prompted when Ruthie showed no signs of doing so. “It’s time to start, everyone.”

  That reminder usually got her scholars into their seats and quieted the flow of chatter. This morning they
seemed to have a bit of trouble getting settled, and the occasional whisper still reached her ears even as they moved into the morning routine.

  Finally, when she’d gotten the lower grades started on their arithmetic practice, she sent a quelling glance toward the seventh and eighth graders, who were supposed to be reading in their history books.

  “Komm, now. I know it’s a lovely spring day and we’re going to have a picnic lunch, but we must get some work accomplished first. Ellie and Margaret, have you finished your reading?”

  “No, Teacher Cathy,” they said in unison and bent their heads over their books.

  She smiled a little, remembering how the longing for summer vacation sometimes became overwhelming on a beautiful day like this. She could be tempted to stare out the window herself, admiring the way the blossoms on the apple tree made delicate shapes against the gnarled bark. That tree had been old when she was a scholar here, and the scent of its blossoms could always take her back to moments spent dreaming, gazing at it.

  The morning wore on, and the sound of the third graders reading aloud to Mary Alice was like the soft drone of bees on a summer day. The sound of a buggy coming down the lane caused an instant faltering in the reading.

  Cathy and Mary Alice exchanged glances.

  “Yah, it’s the mothers coming to set up the picnic for you,” Cathy said. “But first you will finish the work you’re doing. We’ll let you know when the picnic is ready.”

  She swept the classroom with a firm look as she headed back to the door to have a word with the arriving mothers.

  Sarah was the first, trailed by her two boys, each carrying a basket as carefully as if they were filled with eggs. “Set them down under the trees,” Sarah instructed. “I told you we didn’t need them until we had the tables ready.”

  She turned to Cathy with an apologetic smile. “They’re so excited to be allowed to come for the picnic.”

  “It’s fine,” Cathy assured her. “Believe me, the kinder inside are even more excited than your two boys.”