by Karen Harper
“The sheriff’s on that, working from the hospital. Ray-Lynn phoned your boss, Mrs. Stutzman, that night to ask if she and her roomer, Lily Freeman, could help with the search for Arrowroot.”
“But so what?”
“So Amanda Stutzman told her Mrs. Freeman might have gone out to the Rooster Roadhouse on Troyer’s Mill Road. Got any other ideas why Ray-Lynn then evidently headed that way?”
Hannah swallowed hard and tried to keep calm. Ray-Lynn had it in for Lily, didn’t trust her, but she’d said she had decided to trust Jack—unless she’d found something out from talking to Clair Kenton when she got her hair done. But if Hannah told Linc all that—that Ray-Lynn had a separate investigation of her own going—how would that help?
“Hannah, what?” he demanded.
How to answer this truthfully? When she’d gone into the Dutch Farm Table this afternoon to close it up and post a sign that said Closed But Will Reopen Friday Morning, she’d felt such a sudden rush of responsibility for the place. It was the Home Valley meeting place for Amish, Englische and outsiders alike. It was warm and welcoming, an extension of Ray-Lynn’s personality and hospitality. She and the sheriff co-owned it, and Ray-Lynn’s dream was for them to be partners in life, too. Over the door was a sign Hannah’s dear friend Sarah had painted, and soon some of Sarah’s paintings would be on display there. And if there was anything that would keep Hannah in the Home Valley and living independently of her father and Seth, too, it was working with Ray-Lynn at that restaurant.
Fighting to keep her voice calm, she said, “Ray-Lynn and the sheriff are sweet on each other—you know what I mean…”
He leaned closer to her. His eyes held hers. “Yeah, I do.”
“Seth said the sheriff was going out to the Rooster Roadhouse to pass out more posters about the Arrowroot search. So maybe she thought she could help him with that.”
“After he’d just left her with some posters and told her to be careful driving home in the increasing snow? You’re a clever woman, Hannah Esh, but don’t try to cover for Ray-Lynn, even though we’re all pulling for her. Could she have driven out there to tell Lily Freeman, in front of Jack, to keep her hands off him? I get the idea from Jack that Ray-Lynn had more or less told him that in private. So now I’ve got to talk to him, then help him interview the Rooster Roadhouse crowd who might have seen her or her van that night. However much he cares for Ray-Lynn and wants to be with her right now, he’s going to have to get back to work. But I know how conflicted he feels, torn between the oath he took to do his job and yet wanting to just chuck it to be with the woman he wants.”
He stood. Hannah felt a big blush coming. Not because she’d lied to him, or at least how she’d tried to slant things. Not only because he’d looked at her so intensely when she’d talked about being sweet on someone—and now, he almost looked as if he’d devour her. But because Seth was right. This man didn’t just want to help her, he wanted her.
“I’m hoping,” Linc said, putting his paper and pen in his shirt pocket, “that Ray-Lynn comes to without a damaged memory and can fill us in. Meanwhile, for her sake and the sheriff’s, too, let’s not any of us put words into her mouth or thoughts into her head.”
He was letting her off. He’d caught her in a lie, but he was giving her a pass. He stood, shrugged on his jacket, took a final swig of coffee. “My offer still stands to help you get an audition. Professional singing is a very cutthroat, worldly business, where you’re going to need advice and backing you can trust. But first, let me do my job and, like I said, steer clear of any more involvement with the investigation.”
“What if something falls in my lap?” she blurted.
He looked down at her hips, her lap, then slowly ran his eyes up past her waist and breasts to her face. “Such as?”
“I’m going to oversee the Dutch Farm Table for Ray-Lynn until she’s better, at least for a while.”
“The sheriff said he asked you to. At least that’s a public place.”
“But that’s it. I might overhear something. Ray-Lynn sometimes did.”
“And it might have gotten her hurt. If you hear something about either of these pending investigations, you call me. You’ll have a phone there. I’ll be in touch.”
She was very certain he was going to touch her, kiss her. Her eyes widened; she took a step back. Daad, who had always seemed to sense when Seth was leaving during their courting days and who often came in to say gute nacht, and keep them from too much smooching and more, walked back into the kitchen.
“Finished?” Daad asked.
“Yes, sir. For now,” Linc said, picking up the piece of cake he hadn’t touched and moving toward the door instead of toward her. He turned back. “And the help of your people today was greatly appreciated. I know I can call on you again.”
“For finding someone who is lost, ya, sure,” Daad said with a frown at Hannah. “And hopefully bring them back,” he added, though Linc had gone out already, so those words, Hannah knew, were meant for her alone.
At the Dutch Farm Table Restaurant, Hannah felt exasperated but excited at overseeing the many tasks she was not familiar with. She loved greeting and seating people, but behind the scenes she realized she knew next to nothing. Working the cash register was new at first, but she caught on fast. The three Amish cooks and most of the waitresses were willing to take her orders, especially when they heard she might be helping Ray-Lynn in the future when—if—she came back. Only Amy Zook seemed to resent her and acted a bit snippy.
“I hope you aren’t serving our guests with that frown,” Hannah finally remarked to her, which probably didn’t help, but she had to exert herself here. Could Amy’s attitude be related to the fact that her older sister Susan was sweet on Seth? At least, that’s what Ella had said.
Finally, in a public place and way, Hannah came to terms with her shame over becoming goth, then bringing those friends to a party in the graveyard with disastrous results. But the many locals who came and went, ones she knew and a few she didn’t, seemed friendly and all were concerned when word spread about Ray-Lynn.
She was polite, too, but didn’t chat much with outsiders after seating them, just in case they were media people who could recognize her. That is, she steered clear of outsiders, until Levi Troyer came in followed by three of the men she’d spied on and overheard at the mill. “I’ll help by covering table twelve,” she told Leah Schwartz, “though you can bring their orders and get the tip.”
As she went over to their table, she saw Harlan Kenton drag himself in. Ya, that was the word for it, she thought as the bedraggled-looking man plopped himself on a stool at the counter, but she went back to focusing on these men who could be involved with more than investments in town.
“Hannah, any word on Mrs. Logan?” Levi asked as the men slid in the booth, the two outsiders facing their Amish host.
“Holding her own,” she told him. “They’re hoping she comes to soon and remembers something about what happened.”
The minute that was out of her mouth, she regretted it. If these men had anything to do with evil events around here, she didn’t want to put Ray-Lynn in danger. At least the sheriff was with her there. When Hannah had talked to him early this morning—he’d been at Ray-Lynn’s bedside all night—he’d said he didn’t think she’d been out to the Rooster Roadhouse; at least, he hadn’t seen her there. If that was true, could she know something about the Troyers and was in the neighborhood to check up on them?
“Mike and Steve Collister, this is Hannah Esh,” Levi said. “She was one of the women wounded in the graveyard shootings. My youngest son, Josh, just wed her sister Naomi little over a week ago, a nice event it was, too.”
“Glad to see you’re doing well,” the older, silver-haired man—Mike—told her. He glanced at her wrist, which she’d wrapped again with an elastic bandage after hurting it yesterday. He frowned. “That shooting was not the kind of publicity this area needs. I’m sure we can do better,” he said with a glance a
t the one named Steve, who nodded. The two ausländers resembled each other. Maybe brothers, years apart, but more likely father and son. Now she had names to give Linc so he didn’t have to upset Levi Troyer by questioning him. He said to phone him if she learned anything, and she’d do that as soon as she could.
She wanted to start a chat with these men about the mill, but she figured it would look too obvious—and Linc would kill her. So she poured their coffee and took their orders, planning to hover a bit to overhear what she could. True, Linc had told her to keep out of the investigation, but she’d told him that if something fell into her lap, she’d call him. Maybe she’d just help Leah take their orders to their table, as well.
The next time she had a free moment, she went behind the counter to pour Harlan more coffee. He’d been so kind and generous that she decided she would cover his bill herself as a thank-you. He had a plate of over-easy eggs and sausage he was picking at.
“That’s your meat, so it’s got to be good,” she told him.
“Don’t suppose you got a headache chaser?”
“There’s probably some aspirin out back.”
“Just kidding. It’s a hangover, and I’m in the doghouse, with not only Clair but my sister. At least the coffee here’s almost as good as Amanda’s. Word’s all over about Ray-Lynn. How’s she doing?”
“I think she has to come to before they know. Harlan, by any chance were you at the Rooster Roadhouse last night?”
His head jerked up. “I delivered meat there and had a coupla beers. Why? Amanda tell you to scold me, too?”
“No, but you know she loves you. She and Clair are just afraid you’re going to drive drunk and—”
“That wasn’t why Ray-Lynn went off the road, was it? Drinking?”
“Of course not! But I—I supposed they’ll test her blood level for it, for everything. Did you see Ray-Lynn there?”
“No, and that’s not her kind of place. Man, I’m bummed out,” he said, shaking his head. “I gotta stop this, I know it. If I’m not careful, I’ll slice off a finger or something when I’m dopey. Don’t want to lose customers, either, even if I am the only frozen meat locker and refrigerated truck in town. Have fresh or frozen meat, will travel.”
“I was going through Ray-Lynn’s records since I’m taking over for her for a while, and I saw she buys all her meats from you. You deliver them, right? Our storage freezer here’s not that big.”
“Yeah, though if she wants something special, she stops in or lets me know. I’ll be dropping the weekly delivery off Saturday, a lot of bulk country sausage and other cuts.” He started to eat his eggs. “Got fences to mend at home,” he muttered.
She almost told him that he’d better concentrate on mending his bad habits. She saw now how Ray-Lynn was not only restaurant owner but confessor and counselor around here, and she kind of liked that.
Ray-Lynn drifted from dreams to memories. Mama’s honeysuckle vines and azaleas were ablaze with color and scent. She was at home, with her parents sitting on the front porch, but she was running around in the yard with the next-door neighbor kids chasing her, pushing her, playing tag.... Her friends were screaming in delight.... She was careering down a slide at her old grade-school playground with the wind and snow in her hair....
No, it didn’t snow in Georgia; well, at least it never stuck for long to make things slippery. But the ground was so slippery here…
Then Daddy was teaching her to drive, trying to keep his temper, she could tell. He was talking to her calmly before her first solo drive. “You come back now, Ray-Lynn. You’re going to be all right, honey. I love you and want you to come back to me.” Well, ding-dang, where did he think she was going with his car? Clear to Atlanta instead of just around the block?
She felt very afraid then, but she wasn’t sure of what. That there wouldn’t be enough money to buy the restaurant after Charles just dropped dead? They’d had a good marriage, had their whole life planned out, a restaurant in Amish country instead of Cleveland, so many pretty hills, but sharp ravines, too—with trees that had branches like tentacles, reaching out…
She tried to open her eyes but her lids were so heavy. Her head hurt, especially hurt trying to figure out if she could run the restaurant alone.... But maybe Charles was back with her, hadn’t died, because he was holding her hand, talking to her about coming back, waking up, that he loved her and no one else....
She wet her dry lips with her tongue. Her mouth hurt, she hurt all over. “I love you, too, Charles,” she whispered, and slitted her eyes open.
Oh! Not Charles, but a policeman, one leaning close with tears in his eyes. He was holding her hand.
“Ray-Lynn, it’s me. Welcome back, honey! I got to ring for the nurse. They come in a lot, but they said to do that if you woke up. You—you know who I am, honey?” His voice broke. “I’m—I’m not Charles.”
Honey? And she could see he wasn’t Charles. Yes, she remembered now. Charles had died. She wet her lips again as a nurse came in even without being called.
“Is she responsive, Sheriff?” the woman asked.
Sheriff? What had happened? What could she have done?
25
AFTER THE EARLY breakfast rush, the restaurant turned into a who’s who of Homestead, Ohio. Elaine Carson was eating alone at table twelve. Hannah’s parents came in with Naomi and Josh. Mamm kept beaming proudly at Hannah, probably thinking this job would keep her home no matter what else happened. When Levi Troyer and his guests were on their way out the door, Hannah overheard Seth’s name. So maybe the renovation deal for the mill was on—and what else, she wondered, for the men had stopped all conversation each time she’d filled their coffee cups.
Clint and George Meyers came in, all upset. “If Ray-Lynn don’t get better,” George told Hannah as she seated them at what they considered to be their table, “we’re gonna lose one of our homes away from home.”
“Right,” Clint added. He often finished George’s thoughts and vice versa. “If we lost this place or the Roadhouse, we’d be up a creek without a paddle.”
They evidently thought that was funny or clever, because they high-fived each other. She was tempted to ask them if they were at the Roadhouse last night, but she had to try to keep her promise to Linc that she’d stay out of this. She had, however, phoned him with the names of the two Detroit men, Mike and Steve Collister.
“Phone call for you.” Leah Schwartz hurried over to tell her. “It’s the sheriff.”
“Hey,” Clint said, “maybe good news.”
“Or not,” George muttered as Hannah dashed for the phone in Ray-Lynn’s office to get some privacy.
“Sheriff, it’s me,” she said, out of breath. She leaned back against Ray-Lynn’s desk.
“She’s conscious, Hannah. Just thought you should know.”
“That’s great!”
“She’s got some short-term memory loss.”
“She can’t recall what happened?”
“No. And she doesn’t know me.”
“What? How much short-term loss?”
“Back to when she bought the restaurant. She’s been talking about her dead husband Charles’s recent death.”
“Recent? But it’s been years!”
“Don’t mean to dump this on you, but…now I guess I know how she felt when Lily came back to town.”
“With more rest, more treatment, she’ll remember.”
“Possibility of that, according to the doctor. Maybe soon or it may be a long haul.”
“But that means she won’t know me, either. Did she ask about the restaurant?”
“Not a word. She looked scared and upset and went back to sleep. They said it’s common for a person in a wreck not to recall it, but—but this is more.”
She could not picture Sheriff Jack Freeman sounding so shaky. “The restaurant’s doing okay,” she assured him, “so you stay there as long as you need to.”
“Since I upset her—which upsets me—no reason to stay. I’l
l be back to town pretty soon, keep coming back here when I can. Gotta call Linc and wanted you to know. Thanks to you and Ella again. Tell Seth if you see him, but don’t make all this common knowledge, okay?”
“Sure. Keep your spirits up now, for her, for both of you.”
Back out in the restaurant, she told people who asked about Ray-Lynn only that she had regained consciousness. Clint and George asked her if the sheriff had said anything else. She’d have to remember to tell him and Linc that they seemed overly concerned. And then, as if she could wish him here, in came Seth with Marlena in his arms and Hannah’s old doll in hers.
“I’m glad you’re here!” she told him.
“I like the sound of that. Marlena, do you remember Hannah?”
“Hannah my baby,” she said, and cuddled the doll closer. Hannah would have liked to have thrown herself into Seth’s arms as she whispered what the sheriff had just told her.
“I keep thinking things can’t get worse,” he said.
“Mr. Troyer and his Detroit friends were in and seem to have struck some kind of deal. I heard your name. Let me seat you. Are you meeting anyone?”
“Only came to give you support,” he said. “And to get some good home cooking I don’t get much of unless I eat at my mother’s table, which I don’t like to overdo.”
“I heard somewhere that there are a couple of maidals who would like to change all that.”
“I hope you’re one of them.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere but table two in the front window so Marlena and her Hannah can look outside while you eat. Amy will be your waitress.”
She had no more seated them and taken their order to help Amy than her sister, Susan Zook, came in alone and spotted Seth and Marlena. Or had she seen them through the front window? Bad idea to put them there. Susan was almost as tall as Seth and seemed self-conscious about it, stooping a bit when she walked.
