Assaulted Pretzel

by Laura Bradford

  But where did she go to look at it? Right there—where any number of people could pass by at any given moment? The shop—where Esther might see? The inn—where Diane had eyes in the back of her head?

  No. At least not yet, anyway. She needed to read the note in private. If it contained something that necessitated a second pair of eyes, she’d worry about that later.

  Glancing from side to side, Claire made a mental note of her location. To her right was the Amish cemetery, its sacred feel and lack of trees making it an inappropriate place to sit and read something that could, potentially, be volatile in nature. To her left were a man and his sons, all working hard to harvest the final crop of the season. To veer off onto their property to examine Sarah’s note would be awkward at best.

  She looked in the direction she’d been headed once again, the final few farms between her and town rapidly diminishing in number. But just as she was preparing to come up with a plan B that had her sending Esther out on an errand, she saw it.

  Just up ahead, where the road curved toward town, a narrow path jutted off in the opposite direction, leading the way toward the semisecluded watering hole that had played a big part in Jakob’s childhood.

  Confident that no one was watching at that exact moment, Claire turned down the trail and into the grove of trees that sheltered her final destination from the eyes and ears of anyone traveling the main road. As she made her way through the trees and out into the clearing, she couldn’t help but notice the sense of peace that washed over her despite the worrisome note in her hand. Even if Jakob had never brought her there, she would have recognized the pond and the lone signature tree poised alongside it like a sentry.

  It was a scene she saw virtually each and every day with the time of year in which it was depicted the only real variable. On the hand-painted milk can currently displayed in her front window, the tree was bare except for the dusting of snow that covered its branches. On the spatula that hung from the hook above the register, the tree ushered in spring beside the sun-dappled pond. In the painting her customers stopped to admire on a daily basis, the tree provided shade for a single picnic blanket stretched across the ground with promise. And on the coal bucket Martha had brought in just a week earlier, the tree and the pond looked exactly as they did at that moment.

  She stopped at the base of the tree and stared up at the burnt orange leaves that rivaled the brightness of the sun. This place that Jakob treasured so much for the memories it gave him with his estranged sister obviously meant as much to Martha. And it wasn’t hard to see why. Tucked away from the cares of the world, this place conveyed a feeling of simplicity in everything from its shoreline of flat rocks to its silent but undeniable invitation to splash and play away the summer.

  For Jakob and Martha, it represented a time when their lives were easier and their bond unbreakable. For Claire, it represented hope—hope that one day her heart would be whole again. Maybe even ready to give itself over to love for a second time…

  Closing her eyes, she breathed in the two-month-old image that had her standing in that very spot for her first rock-skipping lesson. The sensation of Jakob’s hand around hers as he offered words of encouragement in her ear was still so vivid it nearly took her breath away. Somehow, someway, despite pervasive thoughts to the contrary, something about that encounter had helped her believe she would get past the hurt of her first marriage enough to love again.

  When, exactly, it would happen, she didn’t know for sure. But she knew it would. And judging by the very real pull she felt toward both Jakob and Benjamin, she knew it wasn’t too far off.

  She lifted her chin to the hint of a breeze that rustled her hair and the leaves above her with the gentleness of a whisper. When she felt as if she was ready to read the note, she opened her eyes, leaned against the base of the tree, and slowly unfolded the slip of paper Sarah couldn’t get rid of fast enough.

  At first glance, the page appeared to be a mere duplicate of the one she’d seen just two days earlier. To be sure, though, she read it once again—Rob Karble’s inner-company announcement of the Back to Basics line and its tie to the Michigan manufacturing plant exactly as she remembered from the festival.

  Confused, she flipped the paper over and stared down at a series of barely legible mathematical computations that had been penciled down the right-hand side. A second and more thorough inspection of the numbers yielded borrowing marks and a handful of minus signs as the one common denominator on the page. The final number—10,000—was circled twice.

  “Math problems?” she whispered. “What on earth?” Claire turned her attention back to the pond, the shafts of light that sparkled and danced on the surface suddenly dull against a backdrop of questions with no hint of logical answers. Why had Sarah been so intent on giving her this particular piece of paper? How could a series of math problems that could just as easily be found in any third grade classroom in the country serve as proof of Daniel Lapp’s emotions where Rob Karble was concerned?

  She took a second look at the numbers and tried to make sense of the calculations, narrowing in on the dollar signs she hadn’t noticed during the inaugural once-over.

  “Okay, so we’re dealing with money. Lots of it,” she said before rushing to amend her own words. “Or, at least we were in the beginning…”

  Sure enough, as she continued to study the figures in front of her, a second detail stepped into the foreground. For there, beside the number being subtracted out, was a previously unnoticed and faintly written word that had just as faintly been crossed out.

  “Catalogue?” she read aloud before looping back to the start of the word and repeating it one more time for good measure. “Catalogue.”

  She was just leaning in for a closer look when the snap of a nearby twig made her jump, the sudden and unexpected movement jostling the paper from her hands. Panicked, she dove forward to grab it only to be beaten to the punch by the same breeze she’d found so refreshing not more than five minutes earlier.

  “Hey, hey, hey…I got it!” Jakob stepped from the outer edge of the grove and sprinted across the clearing toward the pond, the slap of his feet against the hard-packed earth rivaled only by the pounding in Claire’s ears. Inches from the water, he made good on his promise, brandishing a triumphant smile in the process. “I’d say that was in the nick of time, wouldn’t you?”

  Without waiting for her response, he held the windswept paper just slightly above her reach and summoned his dimples for the celebration. “Seems you were looking for this?” he teased.

  “I was and I am.” She hopped upward and retrieved the paper from his hand. “Thanks.”

  She felt his gaze as she quickly folded the page and stuffed it back inside her trouser pocket. If he connected the paper to the memo they’d seen circulating the festival grounds, he didn’t let on. Instead, he merely gestured to the tree and the pond. “So what brings you out here?”

  Sarah Lapp is afraid for her husband?

  I needed privacy while reading a note that might have something to do with Rob Karble’s murder?

  She nibbled her lower lip against her initial instinct for honesty and searched for something that would still be truthful but far less revealing. After all, Sarah didn’t want Jakob to see the note. And while there might come a time when Claire would have to overrule that request, now was not that time. She wanted to try and make heads or tails of the mathematical equations first.

  “I was out walking and remembered this place.” She parted company with the tree and wandered toward the pond and its rocky shoreline. “Remember how you taught me to skip rocks out here a couple of months ago?”

  “How could I forget?”

  The sudden rasp of the detective’s voice warmed her face in a much different way than the shimmering sunlight. Unsure of how to respond, she chose, instead, to scour the ground for the perfect flat rock, locating one a few feet away. She reached down, snatched it from its resting spot, and positioned her fingers the way she’d be
en taught. Then with her wrist cocked, she pulled her arm backward and sent the rock sailing…

  One skip.

  Two skips.

  Three skips.

  “Nice!”

  Jakob’s enthusiasm ignited the smile that spread across her face and ended in a little celebratory hop. “Not bad for only one lesson, huh?” she asked before searching the ground for yet another rock. “I don’t usually catch on to stuff like this so quickly.”

  “Figures.”

  She paused her hand mere inches above her next rock and looked back at the man. “Excuse me?”

  A hint of crimson rose in his cheeks only to disappear behind a well-placed hand and an out-of-the-blue cough.

  “Jakob?” She straightened to a stand, the second rock all but forgotten at her feet. “Is something wrong?”

  Slowly, he slid his hand down his chin, grimacing ever so slightly as he did. “Sorry. I guess I was just kind of hoping you didn’t remember what I’d showed you so that…uh…maybe I could show you again.”

  She cast about for something to say, something to lessen the sudden charge that hovered in the air between them, but she came up empty, the louder-than-normal thudding in her chest making it hard to think.

  “Nothing like making myself sound like an idiot, eh?” Jakob hoisted his shoulders upward in a shrug and then grabbed hold of a rock he sent skipping across the pond. When the rock disappeared into the water after its fifth bounce, he took another look around the area. “I can hardly believe I’ll be seeing her in about five minutes. Even harder to believe it’ll be right here in a place I’ve revisited in my dreams more times than I can count these past sixteen years.”

  For a moment she was at a loss for what he was talking about, but then, the mixture of apprehension and tenderness she saw on his face brought her up to speed. Today was the day he was meeting Martha. “I hope you can help her. She sure seems worried about your brother and”—Claire swallowed—“Daniel.”

  “I’m going to do my best. I’ve lost sixteen years with all of these people but I don’t believe either of them would change so much they’d turn to murder.” Dropping his voice to a near whisper, he looked both ways before meeting Claire’s gaze. “I know this is going to sound awful, but I’m glad she was worried enough to ask for my help. I’ve waited a long time to talk with my little sister and I miss her. Losing her was like losing a part of me and I haven’t felt whole since.”

  Silence blanketed the space between them as Claire struggled to find just the right words. Never in her five years of marriage to Peter had he ever shared his feelings about anything, let alone done so in such an open and honest way. It was the kind of relationship she’d always wanted them to have, yet never did. As a result, she found herself in uncharted territory where Jakob was concerned.

  At a loss, she simply reached out, wrapping her hand around his and offering a gentle squeeze. “Savor it, Jakob. Savor every moment.”

  “Oh, I will. Trust—”

  “Jakob?”

  He yanked his hand from Claire’s grasp and turned to face the woman whose footsteps were so soft neither Jakob nor Claire had heard her approach. “Martha!” He thrust his hand in his sister’s direction only to let it fall awkwardly to his side.

  Claire’s heart ached for this man who wanted nothing more than to be close to his sister in the way he treasured from his youth. Yet his decision to become a police officer had changed everything. Now, instead of the closeness the siblings once shared, there were only averted gazes and weighted silence.

  Anxious to help bridge the gap, she stepped forward, placing a hand of friendship on Martha’s upper arm. “Martha, you’re doing the right thing, talking to Jakob. He will help.”

  Slowly, Martha’s hazel eyes left their tenuous target somewhere just beyond Jakob’s face and trained their focus squarely on Claire. “I am to meet Jakob. Not you.”

  She drew back at the unexpected rebuke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  “Esther is not to know I am here. What I am doing is wrong. I will not put my daughter in a place to do wrong as well.” Martha glanced at her brother and lifted her chin in determination. “I will not stay if we are not alone.”

  Claire rushed to ease any unnecessary worry from her friend’s shoulders. “Martha, I won’t say a word to Esther! You have my word.”

  “A word I will have to trust,” Martha acknowledged before repeating her stipulation. “I will not stay, Jakob, if we are not alone.”

  With nary a beat of hesitation, Jakob moved in beside Martha and angled his body to face Claire, the amber flecks in his own hazel eyes uncharacteristically dull. “Claire, I must ask you to go. I am here to see my sister.”

  Chapter 14

  She could feel Esther studying her as she went about the busy work of shifting things around shelves that didn’t really need to be shifted, and ran a cloth along things that had already been dusted. But it was all she could think to do as she tried to make sense of her feelings.

  Deep down inside, she understood Jakob’s request. He’d waited a very long time to speak with his sister and he didn’t want to put what might very well be his one and only chance at risk. Yet despite that understanding, her heart still ached a little at the dismissal.

  One by one, she made her way through the bin of hand-painted spoons, sorting them into odd little piles she undid just as fast.

  “Claire? Is everything alright? You seem…upset.”

  “I’m fine, Esther. Really. I guess I just have a few things on my mind is all.” With a practiced hand, she fanned her fingers across the final pile of spoons and displayed them in their original way. “But no worries, I’m fine.”

  When she was confident she could keep her emotions in check, she turned to face her friend. “What’s with your kapp being tied?” she asked as she closed the gap between the spoons and the counter area where Esther stood.

  The nineteen-year-old shrugged. “It is supposed to be tied.”

  She had to laugh. “That never stopped you from letting the strings dangle before,” she teased.

  “It is time. To act like a lady.”

  It took everything she could muster not to pick at Esther’s statement, pointing out the many ways in which the detective’s niece acted like a lady despite untied kapp strings. But she let it go. After all, Esther was right. Amish kapps were essentially prayer veils and wearing them daily was a nod to the biblical command to pray without ceasing.

  Still, she’d always found Esther’s sweet little act of rebellion innocently endearing.

  “That toy makes it hard, though.” Esther pointed at a flat wooden doll on the counter beside the register. “I did the tasks you asked me to do while you were out, but when I was done, I played with that toy like a little girl. I am glad Eli did not see. He would think I am not fit to be a wife.”

  “Not fit to be a wife? Are you kidding me?” She pulled Esther in for a quick hug and then released her with a smile. “Eli knows he has a special woman in you and it won’t be long before he asks for your hand in marriage.”

  A telltale flush rose up Esther’s neck and into her cheeks. “He is taking a long time.”

  “Because he’s trying to prove himself worthy.” And it was true. He was.

  Eli was a hardworking young man who was completely devoted to his twin sister, Ruth, and his family as a whole. When he wasn’t next door helping Ruth with Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe, he was working alongside Ben in their family’s fields with an enviable determination. But despite his steadfast devotion and stellar work ethic, Eli struggled with a temper that had him asking for forgiveness during many an Amish church service. It was a habit he was working to break as much for Esther and Esther’s father as anyone else.

  “He does not need to prove himself to me. I know he is a good man,” Esther whispered as she scooped the toy from the counter and held it out for Claire to see. “This is called a Jumping Jack. You pull this string, here”—Esther gave a gentle tug—“and the legs an
d arms move in dance.”

  Claire clapped her hands then reached for the toy, the arms and legs moving up and down in reaction to her own tug of the string. “Oh, Esther, this is adorable. Where did it come from?”

  “From my uncle, Isaac Schrock. He stopped in the alley to speak with Eli and I told him my little sister felt poorly yesterday. He gave me this toy to bring to her.” Esther nudged her chin in the direction of Claire’s hand and giggled softly. “See? It is hard not to play with it, no?”

  She matched Esther’s laugh with one of her own as she tugged on the string one last time. “Very hard. Your sister will love it.” Looking down at the toy, she handed it back to Esther. “I take it Isaac made that?”

  “He did. It is one of his…I don’t know how to say it properly…special toys. It is the one he uses to tell of Lapp’s Toys.”

  “Oh. Like a signature toy?”

  The doll’s appendages moved under Esther’s expert hand. “Yes, that is the right word. He uses it on a corner of each of his pages in Mr. Lapp’s catalogue.”

  Her head snapped up. “Catalogue?”

  “Yes. You know of it. You have seen it.”

  She briefly slid her hand inside her front left pocket and fingered the folded note it held, her head nodding along with Esther’s words even as her mouth started spewing out questions. “Esther? Can I ask you something? Do you have any idea whether Daniel’s mail-order business has been all that successful? I mean, I know he gets orders, and I know it’s increased his business, but has it made a big difference?”

  Drawing the doll to her chest, Esther’s eyes widened. “Oh, Claire. It made a very big difference. For Mr. Lapp and for my uncle. It is the reason Mr. Lapp sold off a part of his farm to Mr. Stoltzfus.”

  “Wait,” Claire said. “I don’t understand. What does the toy catalogue have to do with Daniel’s farm?”

  “Uncle Isaac said they sell more toys by mail than they do in the toy shop. People who visit take a catalogue home with them and then order toys for birthdays. And with Christmas coming, Uncle Isaac thinks there will be even more orders. And Mr. Lapp? He says farming takes too much time. By selling land to Mr. Stoltzfus, Mr. Stoltzfus can grow more crops and make more money, while Mr. Lapp and my uncle can spend days making toys.”