Now Esther would again have such a bond — with Tobias’ family.
And Reuben?
She would have to trust Reuben into God’s care.
So Deborah sang, and she cried a little more as she thanked God that Esther would have Tobias’ hand to hold, like she herself had Jonas’. That Esther would have Tobias’ strong presence by her side, like she herself had Jonas’. And that Leah would have Tobias to guide her through the years ahead, as her own children had Jonas.
Once again, God had taken care of his own.
Three hours later, Deborah placed a plate of food down in front of Callie.
“Aren’t you eating?” Callie asked.
“I will as soon as I finish serving.”
Then Deborah spun and hurried back toward the kitchen. They’d worked out a serving line of sorts, and the plates were practically flying out of the kitchen. The meal had taken the work of many hands, but one look at Esther’s face, sitting with Tobias at the corner table, sitting at the eck, convinced Deborah it was worth the effort.
“Go and sit, Deborah. You look flushed. We have this.” Esther’s sister smiled and handed her two more plates. “One for you and one for Jonas. Now go. Sit and eat.”
She found her place across from Callie and beside Jonas, surprised to find her stomach growling by the time the blessing had been given.
“So what did you think, Callie?” Jonas had a teasing note in his voice, but it didn’t slow him from shoveling a forkful of roast chicken covered with bread stuffing into his mouth.
“I’ve never attended a wedding that long before,” Callie admitted. “I’ve never been to any service that long — maybe a college lecture or two, some business meetings, but not church.”
“Do you regret coming?” Deborah asked.
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed it for all the free fabric in the world.” Callie had been spreading butter on fresh bread, but she stopped, studying the newly married couple who were seated at the special table across the lawn. “I don’t understand how the ceremony was so romantic, but it was. There were no rings, no vows, they didn’t even kiss.”
“But there was their love for each other,” Deborah pointed out.
“And the blessing. Don’t forget the blessing.” Jonas salted the mashed potatoes and creamed celery on his plate. “What is more romantic than a new couple being blessed by the bishop as they head out into the world?”
“I suppose. I’m going to have to think about it. This is all so different from what I’m used to, from my own wedding.” Callie set down her fork, though she’d yet to take a bite.
“So you had the typical Englisch wedding, ya?” Jonas grinned mischievously. “Long white veil, tall Englisch shoes, long skirt thing that little mice had to carry.”
Deborah slapped him on the arm. “You know very well that’s a fairy tale. There are no mice in Englisch weddings.”
Callie picked up her fork again. “He’s correct on all other counts though. I did have the long veil and the tall shoes, and I even have photos to prove it. I can show them to you — “ As soon as she closed her mouth around the food, Callie’s eyes grew wide.
“I knew she’d stop talking when she tried the food.” Jonas grinned at them both.
“It doesn’t keep you from talking,” Deborah pointed out.
“Ya, but I’ve had years of practice.”
“This is amazing. Deborah, do you know how to make this?”
Their conversation then turned to recipes and details about the wedding, but Deborah couldn’t forget the look of longing, the look of loss that had passed over Callie’s face. She, too, had once enjoyed the kind of closeness that Esther now knew. Deborah needed to remember to pray that God would bring a special helpmate into Callie’s life.
The afternoon went on like that — sometimes filled with melancholy, but more often saturated with laughter.
At one point Deborah had Callie and Melinda all to herself. “What with the murdered girl in the pond and Callie searching for Ira’s daughter, we haven’t talked about selling quilts for ages.”
“Which reminds me — “ Callie tucked her hair behind her ear, often a sign that she felt guilty about something—”I haven’t had a chance to mention that I might have a new way to sell your quilts.”
Melinda stopped fiddling with baby Hannah’s kapp and looked up eagerly. Deborah glanced over at Esther. Her friends depended on the money brought in from their quilts. She was more than eager to hear new ideas.
So Callie quickly recapped Nancy Jarrell’s offer.
“Chicago?” Melinda squeaked. “It’s so far, and it’s such a big city.”
“Yes, but we’d only be going to the museum, and you wouldn’t have to go if you didn’t want to. I could take the quilts myself.”
“We’ll need to talk to the bishop first.” Deborah reached down and picked up Joshua, who had flung himself at her legs.
“Of course.”
“But I see no difference in selling them in a museum or selling them in your store.” She hugged Joshua to her, grateful that when there was more need, God always seemed to bring added blessings.
“I was hoping you’d say that. Talk to Bishop Elam and let me know. I’ll email Nancy to tell her know you’re interested and would like to know more details.”
Melinda hugged them both, then hurried off to oversee the games and matchmaking. They had barely started when Deborah noticed Callie slipping her small cell phone back into her purse, a puzzled look on her face.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
“No. No problem. That was Professor Reimer from Notre Dame.” She shook her head and pulled her purse over her shoulder. “He thinks he may have found Ira Bontrager’s daughter.”
Esther reveled in the feel of Tobias’ arms around her. She had thought their time alone might be awkward. It was anything but. Tobias was both gentle and attentive. He made her feel like the beautiful young woman she’d once been. Now lying together in her bedroom, the bedroom of her childhood, it seemed that her life had come full circle.
“Are you asleep yet?” Tobias whispered.
“No. I thought I would be.”
He pulled back her hair and kissed the nape of her neck. “Perhaps you’re too tired. After a full day of wedding—”
“And an evening in your arms …” she teased.
“Ya. There’s that too.” He pulled her closer as the wind outside rattled the shutters of the upstairs window.
“It was a gut wedding. A gut beginning for us.”
Tobias nodded, but didn’t interrupt — waited instead for her to find words for the joys and aches that were keeping her awake so late this night.
“I was a little surprised so many of our freinden attended.”
“Because?”
Now she flipped over, needing to face him in the dark, even if she couldn’t see him. “Because not everyone believes in his innocence. Because not everyone understands why …” She stuttered, fumbled in the dark with her pain.
“Do you think they wouldn’t do the same for their own family? Perhaps you misread others’ looks or silences.” Tobias’ fingers traced her cheek in the dark. “Often folk are silent when they don’t know how to express their concern. I think the time you’ve spent alone might have made it more difficult for you to accept their desire to help.”
Esther wanted to argue with him. Wanted to tell him about the time she’d been alone with Leah and had only her family to help her.
But had she been alone?
Those days were blurry now. There’d been Deborah and Melinda, always. Others had come though. Perhaps she’d pushed many away while she’d been hurting.
It could be that there were some who wanted to help Reuben as well, who believed in him, but didn’t know how.
She wanted to help Reuben but didn’t know how.
So instead she snuggled into Tobias’ arms. “Ya, maybe you’re right.”
“Words every man longs to hear.”
“Reuben was right as well.” Esther yawned, sleep finally winning over the dozens of thoughts flitting through her mind — like birds hopping over an early morning’s frosty field. Thoughts of the next three days filled her dreams, when they’d travel to a different relative’s home for each meal, collecting wedding presents and even staying overnight.
But by Sunday evening, they’d be back at their place — at Tobias’ grossdaddi’s home.
At their home.
“And what was he right about, sweet Esther?”
“When he told us not to postpone our marriage.” The words were a whisper on her lips, barely uttered before sleep claimed her. Or perhaps she only dreamt them.
Chapter 29
CALLIE TALKED TO GAVIN as she nervously watched out the shop’s windows. It was Andrew’s day off, and today he was dressed in a gray sweat suit. Not baggy sweats like Callie wore on her day off. No, these sweats outlined his shape, accentuated the fact that he was still in military condition — tip-top military condition. Not that she stared at him or his muscles when he walked in because that would be rude. Besides, she could have a good look when he was on his way out of the shop so as not to embarrass the poor man.
Gavin had stopped by to see if Max would like to go for a run. This had become a regular habit of his at least twice a week, and Max was becoming quite spoiled. As for Callie, she wasn’t quite sure what to think about it.
Gavin and Max had just returned from their five-mile jog, and Callie had fought off a temptation earlier to put a chip on Max so she could track them when they ran. Where could you possibly go in Shipshewana that would take you five miles? You’d have to run in circles.
“Explain to me again how you managed to find Bontrager’s daughter? I thought she was dead.”
“It’s pretty complicated, and we’re not completely sure Faith is Ira’s daughter. For one thing, his daughter’s name was Bethany. But either because of the trauma, or because of her age, Faith may have been unable to tell anyone that.”
Gavin sat down on a stool she’d pulled out from the kitchen. They were alone in the shop, which wasn’t unusual for eight o’clock on a Saturday morning, but the shoppers would start popping in soon.
“I told you Miss Morton referred me to Professor Reimer?”
“Yes. He teaches at Notre Dame.”
“Correct, and the Palm Sunday Tornadoes have been a pet project of his. You should see his office. It’s like a living memorial to what happened in the central plains that Sunday — with a particular emphasis on Indiana. He has more letters, maps, and information than you can imagine.”
“How big is his office?” Gavin asked.
“No bigger than my small work area.”
“Then how does he fit it all in?”
“That’s part of the project. He’s collected material over the years, and the more he accumulates, the more people send to him. Now his graduate students are helping him transfer it all to data files. As they do, he’ll place the originals in the university archives or local community centers — “
“Like ours.”
“Exactly.”
“All right. So you think your professor is knowledgeable, but that doesn’t mean the woman who is coming here today is who he thinks she is.” Gavin sipped the hot coffee Callie always had ready after his run, smiled when she pushed a fresh bagel his way.
There was something in his smile that picked up her day more than a cup of coffee from Margie’s. In fact, having a visit from Andrew was always a highlight of her weeks. What did that mean? Did it mean she should say yes next time he asked her out? If there was a next time?
“Are you suspicious by nature or did they teach you that in the service?”
“Actually I learned it overseas. So how did he make the connection?”
“If you remember, Ira isn’t always coherent. He suffers from dementia, so he stumbles back and forth between the present and the past.”
“Which doesn’t make for the most reliable witness.”
“But it might help recall a seemingly unimportant detail, something you or I might have forgotten. Perhaps that’s why, after all these years, Ira was convinced his daughter was still alive. Maybe part of his mind knew, but another part had dismissed it.”
Gavin frowned visibly. “Dismissed what?”
“That no Amish died in Shipshe that day. Ira and his wife had been down at Rainbow Lake that day for the Palm Sunday church services and celebrations. They’d allowed their daughter, Bethany, to stay with her aenti afterwards.”
“He said that?”
“In his way. He mentioned rainbows around the lake. I didn’t know what that meant, thought he was rambling.”
“The area around Shore and Rainbow Lake was practically devastated by twin tornadoes that day.”
“So Professor Reimer told me. The night I visited him he asked me to fill out an information form. After I told him Ira suffered from dementia, he had me write down everything that Ira focused on, everything he rambled about. Professor Reimer had a student enter the information in his database which immediately narrowed the incident down to the Rainbow Lake area.”
Gavin began pacing in front of her counter, causing Max to raise his head and watch with interest. “Let me see if I have this straight. Ira and — “
“Sharon.”
“Sharon went down to Rainbow Lake for the day with their daughter—”
“Bethany.” Callie smiled, then took a sip of her own coffee.
“Got it.” Gavin gave her a salute. When his playfulness crept in, it always surprised her. Most of the time he was so serious, but then usually she saw him when he was on the job. “Ira, Sharon, and Bethany at the lake. Ira and Sharon decide to head home, but little Bethany wants to stay with her aenti. The storm hits, devastating the area, and Bethany is never found.”
“She was found, but miles away, among the rubble, among the dead, according to Professor Reimer’s information. No one knew who she was. According to his records, she was found next to an Amish man and woman who were dead, and the people who found her assumed they were her parents.”
“But they were her aunt and uncle?”
“Apparently.”
“Didn’t Ira go looking for his family? Wouldn’t he have followed the trail and found her?”
“Yeah, he looked for his family. But I think he probably thought they’d already gone home. The Shore Mennonite community south of Shipshe was devastated. Ira didn’t realize they’d stayed at the lake. He was looking through the rubble at Shore.”
“It wasn’t that many miles apart, Callie.”
“The tallies vary from what Ira told me. The Internet says there were forty-seven tornadoes and two-hundred and seventy-one people were killed. How many more were made homeless or were injured? All in an eleven-hour period over four hundred and fifty miles.”
When Gavin continued to shake his head, she pushed on. “Think of what it was like that night. The chaos and confusion. Ira and Sharon were uninjured, but by the time they’re able to return, all that they found was destruction — a scene nothing like what they’d left, and no sign of their child. Sharon apparently went into shock and never completely recovered, though they did eventually have another child — “
“Caleb.”
“Yes.”
“Then who took Bethany?”
“Someone found her, helped her.”
“That’s kidnapping.” Gavin said, indignation rising in his voice.
“You can’t mean that.” Callie walked around the counter, intending to unlock the door, but instead she stopped and reached up to straighten the ball cap he’d placed back on his head. “Whoever found Bethany — now Faith — saw only a child in the midst of a horrible natural catastrophe whose parents were dead. From what I can tell after talking with Faith, she had a good life.”
“I don’t know.” Gavin followed her to the front door. “Seems criminal.”
“According to Professor Reimer the chur
ch districts weren’t as close then. By that I mean they didn’t communicate as well between one another. Also the Amish communities weren’t as integrated with the Englisch. There weren’t as many phone shacks and, of course, no cell phones. Also they were hesitant to work with the police. Ira and Sharon searched for their child, in the wrong community apparently, but in the end they accepted it as God’s will …” The silence between them lengthened as they both considered the tragedy. Finally, Callie shrugged. “Maybe we are wrong. Who knows? But Faith is coming to see Ira this morning.”
“Wait a minute. How did Reimer get her story to start with? How did he learn that she’d been found as a child?”
“Faith’s mother died a few years ago. Apparently she always kept a journal. When Faith was going through her mother’s things, reading the journals, she found the full description of that Palm Sunday. Faith had always known her parents weren’t her birth parents, but she didn’t know the entire story. She went to the bishop in their district then and asked him about it and what she should do with the journals. The bishop put her in touch with Professor Reimer.”
“You know, you’ve given me a headache.”
“Go work out some more, Gavin. It’ll wipe those wrinkles right off your forehead.”
An hour later Callie was feeling the beginnings of her own tension headache. Lydia had come in to work the ten to two shift, and Callie was sitting in front of the Grossdaddi House. Faith had arrived at the quilt shop thirty minutes earlier via a driver. She was now waiting beside Callie in the passenger seat, and they were both looking across the parking lot — as if answers might pop out of the pavement.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“I didn’t come all the way from Goshen to wonder.” Just under fifty years old, Faith was round with a little gray hair peeking out from hunder her kapp, and she was about the sweetest thing Callie had ever met. Tiny wrinkles feathered out from her blue eyes, and it seemed that Callie saw a resemblance there of the man who had popped up in her garden eleven days ago, but maybe that was what she wanted to see.
A Perfect Square Page 22
