The Englisch Daughter

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “Not a problem.”

  “But it is above and beyond.” She turned on the burner and set the percolator on it.

  Chris seemed unusually quiet.

  “Why were you in our neck of the woods?”

  “I-I needed to see a man about something.”

  That was oddly vague. She chose to change the subject. “You’re still dressing Amish. That’s usually one of the first things people give up when they leave the Amish, so I take it you’re having trouble deciding whether you’ll stay Amish or live Englisch.”

  He looked down at his blue shirt and dark-blue pants. “About that—”

  Jemima hurried down the stairs and into the room, holding the laptop. “We haven’t found the missing piece of mail yet, which makes no sense. If it was supposed to be here a week or so ago, where is it?” She held out the laptop to Chris. “Here you go.”

  Chris took the laptop, set it on the table, and opened it. “So, what’s going on?”

  Simeon started crying, and Jemima pointed at Abigail. “Fill the man in. I’ll be back.”

  Abigail shifted the conversation to the point of his visit: what Tiffany had said about Roy not being the father and demanding he hand over Heidi.

  “Wait. He’s not the father?”

  She shrugged. “That’s what she says. I’m unsure what the truth is, although I have some suspicions. But my opinions aside, she seems to run with whatever emotion hits, and she likes to stir up drama simply for the sake of it.”

  Chris looked sickened. “After all your brother’s been through, she shows up here with a thug and says that?”

  “Ya. He’s one upset man. Jemima somehow got Tiffany to agree to give them twenty-four hours to find her laptop, and then she’s returning for it and Heidi. If Tiffany hadn’t agreed to that, they would’ve called the police, and Heidi would be in social services while this mess is straightened out. The missing piece of mail with the DNA results isn’t helping anything. We need to know Roy’s legal rights before we make a plan.”

  “So what’s the goal with the laptop?” He turned it on.

  “To see if we can figure out why she’s desperate to get it back. Look for incriminating evidence that Tiffany’s goal is to sell the baby. If that can be proved, Roy and Jemima hope to convince her to give her parental rights to them, no authorities involved. If we can’t find the kind of incriminating evidence that would cause Tiffany to cooperate, Roy and Jemima will take any lesser evidence to the authorities and do what they can to keep Heidi from having to live with Tiffany. That sounds cruel, but she’s not fit to raise a child.”

  “She’s not fit to take care of herself, but that’s not our problem.” Chris entered the password, but it didn’t unlock the computer.

  Roy walked into the room, holding Heidi. “Tiffany is panicked about getting that laptop back, so I think it’s dawned on her that there’s info on the computer that could be damaging to whatever her plan is.”

  “Ya.”

  Jemima entered, carrying Simeon. She set him in his high chair, buckled him in, and got some blueberries out of the fridge.

  Chris studied the laptop. “What was the password? ‘Stickystew’? One word, first letter capitalized. Then the number three followed by a dollar sign.” He tapped out the password again on the keyboard.

  “You asked a question and then answered it yourself.” Abigail chuckled, watching the screen from behind him.

  “Ya, I do that a lot.” He frowned. “With pretty much the same response from life as I’m getting from the computer. I’m wrong. No access granted.”

  “You had most of it correct. You were only off by the last keystroke.” Roy strapped Heidi into her bouncer and set it on the table. “It should be an exclamation point at the end, not a dollar sign, although I can see why you’d remember it as a dollar sign. Tiffany and money go hand in hand.”

  Chris typed in the password again. “I’m in.” He typed a few words into fields that said Search. “I don’t see anything useful right off, but here’s the problem: any recent messages aren’t going to sync to the computer without an internet source.”

  Jemima placed several sliced blueberries in front of Simeon before sitting hard in a kitchen chair. “How are we supposed to make plans if we can’t find the letter from the lab and if nothing on the computer is synced?”

  “Mamm.” Carolyn stood in the doorway of the room, her hands and her big sister behind her.

  “You and Laura go play, sweetie.” Jemima pointed to the playroom. “The adults need to talk.”

  “I’m looking through what I can.” Chris clicked on the trash can. “But I don’t see anything pertinent.”

  “Mamm.” Barely using one crutch to steady herself, Laura came to the edge of the table. “Is it still true that if we tell the truth, we won’t get in trouble, no matter what?”

  Jemima pursed her lips. “Not now.”

  “Jem,” Roy whispered and nodded at Carolyn.

  Carolyn’s eyes were brimming with tears.

  “Ach, Liewi, kumm.” Jemima’s voice was soft as she called her dear daughter to come. She motioned and Carolyn came closer. “Was iss letz?” Jemima’s faint smile seemed reassuring as she asked what was wrong.

  Carolyn slowly put her hands in front of her, and she was holding several pieces of mail.

  Jemima looked through the mail and slid an envelope to Roy. He ripped it open while Jemima talked to Carolyn, assuring her that it was okay and that she was proud of her for telling the truth. But she also told her not to pick up mail and play with it unless her Mamm gave it to her. After a tight hug, Jemima sent her on her way. “Geh.”

  Carolyn skipped off, and Jemima turned to Roy.

  He shook his head. “I’m not her father.” Roy sat there rubbing his forehead. “What is wrong with her?”

  No one answered. They didn’t need to. The woman had serious issues.

  Jemima moved to stand behind him, and she rested her hands on his shoulders. “There are things to be grateful for, and one is that what she intended as evil in Heidi’s life, God is using for good. Heidi doesn’t have to take on her mom’s issues, not if she is raised in a loving home with a good Daed.”

  Roy shifted and looked up at Jemima. “Are you sure you want us to raise her? Sure, sure?”

  “I’m sure. I don’t love her like our own yet, but I already love her more than I thought possible, and I know the fullness of love will come as the trauma and heartache surrounding her fades. You?”

  “Logically it seems I should feel different about her now and wash my hands of the whole ordeal. But I know that giving her up would be a terrible mistake.”

  Abigail could see the depth of sincerity inside her brother, and it was clear why she loved him even when he was on her last nerve, asking too much of her and taking her for granted.

  A new thought hit her. “You know what? Tiffany listed Roy as the father on the birth certificate. You couple that with the fact that she abandoned her and has known where Heidi has been for six weeks but has not called, texted, or returned for her before now. Those things should count on your behalf if you have to turn her over because you’re not the biological father.”

  Chris pulled his phone from his pocket. “I have an idea of ways to narrow the search, but I need to know an approximate date of when you think she would’ve sent or received anything incriminating.”

  Roy looked at Jemima. “I’m sorry.”

  Jemima kissed his cheek. “Me too.”

  He drew a breath. “The night I went to her place and can’t recall what happened was mid-April of last year.”

  “That narrows it down.” Chris slid his phone across the table. “While I begin searching and skimming, you can listen to the recording.”

  The three of them—Jemima, Roy, and Abigail—went to the far end of the room, away f
rom the noise of the older children playing. Abigail found the video and turned on the speaker, and they huddled near the phone, listening. Chris’s voice on the recording was calm as he led one of the men to share what he knew about the plan to receive money in exchange for the baby, and at that time the man thought Chris was one of them, out for money. A couple of minutes later everything changed. Loud bangs and moans, and the fight seemed to go on forever. It sent chills through Abigail as she realized anew what he went through to help them.

  While Roy and Jemima settled something between the older children, Abigail went to the countertop and cut Chris a piece of cake, put it on a plate, and grabbed a fork. Then she poured him a cup of coffee and set both near him. “Denki.”

  He looked up from the laptop. “For?”

  “Being here to help us no matter what we’ve needed. For knowing how to fight and not being afraid to do so. For taking the injuries in stride as if they were no big deal. For coming back when we’ve asked although we had no right to ask it.”

  “You’re welcome for every ounce of it.” He looked up, his eyes boring into hers. “Abi, we need to talk. I—”

  “Find anything?” Roy entered, carrying Nevin this time.

  “Ya.” Chris shrugged, looking torn.

  Jemima walked back into the room and went straight for the fridge. She got out a bowl of sliced fruit and put a few pieces on a plastic plate. Roy set Nevin in a chair.

  “Chris said he found something.” Roy put the plate of fruit in front of Nevin.

  Chris tapped the keyboard. “Roy, maybe we should talk in private.”

  “I appreciate it, Chris, but I’m not keeping any more secrets. We’ll keep talking in Englisch so the little ones nearby don’t know what we’re saying.” He glanced into the other room, probably to make sure Laura wasn’t within hearing range.

  “Okay, so she gets messages on her laptop.”

  Jemima moved in closer. “You mentioned that when we were at Doc Grant’s clinic. But I don’t really know what it means.”

  “Whenever she sends or receives texts on her phone, those also go to her laptop and download into an app called Messages. Since you don’t have an internet provider but Doc Grant did, nothing has downloaded since the day we were there. With the exception of the last few days before Roy and Tiffany were in that accident, there are hardly any messages, which probably means she deleted them.”

  “But it can’t all be gone,” Abigail said. “Why would you need to talk to Roy privately if everything is missing?”

  “See, I knew you’d catch that,” Chris said, smiling. “Messages keeps a backup copy of everything in a well-hidden archive on the computer, and deleting the original doesn’t remove the copy.”

  “So you do have all the texts she’s written or received?” Jemima asked.

  “Probably. Glitches can always happen, but we have plenty, that’s for sure. Go to Finder, click on Go, and then on Go to Folders. It has thousands of texts she’s sent and received while owning this computer. Unfortunately they’re not really stored by date. They are stored by numeric order, which works well only if she’s had the computer just a year. Otherwise it has all the January texts grouped together, even if there are ten years of Januarys.” Chris paused. “I think you should probably sit down for this.”

  “Why?” Jemima took a seat.

  Roy remained standing. “Nothing would surprise me at this point, so you can just say it, Chris.”

  “From what I’ve reviewed, it sounds as if she came up pregnant on purpose, thinking the dad, who is apparently rich, would support her. When that didn’t happen, she set up Roy. She wrote of actually caring about you, thinking you were handsome and a good guy. But she and her friends put something in your drink, and it scared them. They thought they’d killed you.”

  “Something in my drink?”

  “Ya. It was intended to lower your inhibitions so she could seduce you, but instead it put you out cold.”

  Jemima’s eyes flooded with tears. “He was on high-powered pain meds from the horse-and-buggy wreck he and Laura had. It’s amazing that stunt didn’t kill him.”

  What would it have done to Jemima if Roy had died in Tiffany’s bed? Abigail’s blood pounded at her temples. “Jesus, help me. Even I want to load the gun about now.”

  “But we won’t,” Roy said. “She meant this as evil against me, but God meant it for good for Heidi.”

  “I agree,” Chris said. “Heidi’s innocent, and despite who her biological parents are, God is pulling for her, just as He’s done for me time and again.”

  “And me,” Abigail said.

  “And me,” Roy added.

  “And me.” Jemima grinned. “We sound so corny, but it’s completely true. If God be for us, who can be against us?”

  Abigail sat next to Chris. It’d been a hard road for Roy and Jemima, but God was helping them while working on Heidi’s behalf. Greedy and disturbed liars and manipulators were against her brother, and they’d won a few battles, making life so much harder for Roy and Jemima than it should have been. But none of Tiffany’s deceitful plans were stronger than God’s good graces.

  Jemima got Heidi out of the bouncer and held her close. “We need to get those things printed out. Is that possible?”

  “I don’t know if they can be printed straight from the archives. I would have to ask someone more tech savvy than me, but I know we can make screenshots and print those,” Chris said. “Here’s the thing: if I get this laptop to a place with a speedy internet and get connected, I think every message she’s sent or received via text since we last connected at Doc Grant’s will download into Messages, although it could take a while if she texts a lot.”

  “Could you do that? Could you take the laptop to such a place and see what downloads?” Jemima asked.

  Chris nodded. “Of course.” He turned to Abigail. “Care to go with me?”

  How could she say no? He was once again coming to the rescue of her family. “Ya. Call us an Uber.”

  “Would you mind if we took a rig? There’s a café in Mirth with free Wi-Fi.”

  Whether the Amish hired a neighbor or Uber to transport them, it was expensive. He’d probably paid more than a hundred dollars just to get from Scarsdale to Mirth one way. But rather than offer to pay for the ride, she nodded. “It’s a beautiful evening for a buggy ride.”

  Thirty-One

  Chris went to the stable. Abigail seemed more open to seeing him than he’d expected, but he was sure she was just grateful for his help.

  He got Houdini from his stall. “How are you doing, fella?” He removed the halter and put on the bridle. Houdini nudged him, wanting more pats. Chris chuckled. “You look good, and you didn’t share EHV-1 with any other horse. Good job on that.” He patted him as they walked out the stables and to the carriage house.

  The sights, smells, and sounds of Amish living in Mirth filled him with satisfaction. He’d always enjoyed this part of being Amish: the pleasure of traveling by horse and buggy, and the sense of being grounded in and connected to nature.

  Once Houdini was hitched to the carriage, Chris lit a kerosene lantern and hung it in its spot. It would be dark before too much longer. He drove the carriage to the house and hopped out. He was headed for the front door, when Abigail came outside. He opened her door.

  “Well, thank you, kind sir.”

  He closed the door and went around to the other side. He clicked his tongue, and Houdini began walking.

  “Will you return home tonight or tomorrow?”

  Nervousness gnawed at him. He’d faced opponents in a ring with less apprehension and less at stake. “Uh, I’m not sure.”

  “You’re welcome to stay. Aaron’s been sleeping at my folks’ house, and Roy and Jemima would be pleased to have you.”

  “That’s kind, and I’ll think about it.” They
rode onward, and he couldn’t think of how to tell her all he needed to.

  “You’re very quiet for a man who said we needed to talk.”

  “I am.” He wouldn’t tell her up front that he thought she had walls. If she had them, they would show themselves, and then they could talk about it. He had a lot of proving to do first because right now she was justified to wall him out.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I…I messed up.” He fidgeted with the leather straps, willing himself to say the rest.

  She shifted to face him, and the soft glow of evening illuminated her face, making her look more heavenly than earthly. “You regret that your leaving to fight undid us. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  That was Abigail, and he loved this about her—straightforward.

  “Ya, but I don’t regret what I learned about myself and that I gave my all to help Dan get a fresh start. But I do regret the timing of it. I’ve come clean with my parents and bishop, and I returned home to live two weeks ago. The bishop has come by almost every night since so we could talk, and I’ll begin instruction this spring.”

  “That’s good, Chris.” Her heart was sincere. He knew that, but she also sounded like a teacher telling a pupil she was proud of him. Perhaps that kind of distant affection was all that was left between them.

  “Abi, I know I didn’t handle us well.” He slowed and made a left turn. “And I’ve damaged your ability to trust that I know who I am and what I want, but I know both now. I saw it clearly after I won the fight.”

  She shifted, choosing to look out the window rather than at him. “I’m glad you’ve returned and will go through instruction, but I’m not sure how I feel about us.”

  “I get that. You need time. We need it. We’ve only known each other a little more than six weeks. But here’s the thing.: I talked to my bishop and yours, and under the right circumstances I could move to Mirth, even go through instruction here, and that would give us time together.”