The bishop sounded more than merely disappointed. Drew had never imagined that kindly, patient Tom Hostetler could speak in such a vehement tone. Cornelius mumbled something Drew couldn’t discern—probably hoping his daughters couldn’t hear what was being said if they were upstairs.
“We objected to the placement of your workbench because we feared that, in your absence, we might not be able to access the funds,” Preacher Ben said earnestly. “I’m awfully glad you’re here today, Cornelius, because we’ve come for money to assist the Brenneman family.”
“Oh? What’s happened?” Cornelius demanded. “When I saw everyone at church on Sunday, Ezra seemed in fine spirits, and so did Naomi and their sons.”
“Ezra’s getting some physical therapy,” Bishop Tom said.
After a moment, Cornelius said, “How much do you need? I’ll get it out for you and—”
“No, we’ll need to get the money ourselves, and to take a quick inventory of the funds,” Preacher Ben interrupted. “We need to reassure ourselves that a rumor about you going to a casino in Kansas City can’t possibly be true.”
Drew listened very carefully for Cornelius’s response, trying to imagine whether he appeared shocked or angry—or sorry. He didn’t dare peek through the nearest window, however.
As he sat back against the house’s foundation, lighter voices drifted on the breeze. Drew sucked in his breath. He wasn’t surprised that Loretta and Rosalyn were walking down the road, because the bishop had probably sent them away—but what if they’d come out through the back door and caught him eavesdropping? He thanked God that he’d avoided raising Loretta’s suspicions or alerting the men inside to his presence.
“In all my years as a deacon of the Old Order Amish church,” Cornelius blustered, “I have never been accused of mishandling funds or—or gambling? Who started this outrageous rumor, anyway?”
“It came as a confidence from someone who’s very concerned about the state of your soul—and the state of the funds our members have entrusted to our care,” Bishop Tom replied.
“All you need to do is move your workbench,” Preacher Ben continued, “and we’ll compare the ledger in the vault with the one Tom keeps—and with the bundled bills we’ve accumulated over the years. Then we’ll take the money Ezra needs and you can get back to work.”
“If the rumor’s not true, you have nothing to worry about, Cornelius,” Bishop Tom pointed out. “With the three of us moving your workbench, it won’t take any time at all—and we can put it against the opposite wall in here, or out in the main room, as Ben suggested. Let’s do it. Now.”
“Wait! We can’t possibly shift this bench until I’ve moved these dismantled clocks and their loose parts,” Cornelius blurted out.
“You pick up the clocks and we’ll follow you with their pieces,” Ben said. “The more you protest and stall, Deacon, the more I wonder if you really have gambled away some of our funds.”
“Did you buy that fancy wall air conditioner with church money as well, Cornelius?” Bishop Tom demanded. “I’ve never seen the likes of it, and something tells me it cost a pretty penny—and that you chose it because no one walking past your house would see that you had one. If you’re devious about the purchase of an air conditioner, why should your neighbors and I trust you with the church’s money?”
Drew held his breath. When a bishop asked such a direct question, who would dare to lie—or refuse to answer? Either way, Tom and Ben would count the money in the vault, and they would know the truth.
After a long silence, Cornelius let out a sob. “All right, I confess!” he cried in a desperate voice. “My wife’s passing has left me so lonely and confused, I—I turned to gambling as a way to soothe my soul. Please don’t let on to anyone—especially the girls—and I promise I’ll stop going to the casino. I’ll pay back every penny.”
“Confession is gut for the soul,” Preacher Ben intoned, “and we’ll hold you to your word about repaying what you’ve gambled away. Right now, however, we’re going to move this bench and count the money, Cornelius. We need to know exactly how much your habit has cost us, and how much you’ll be repaying.”
“It behooves us to appoint another deacon, too,” Bishop Tom put in. “And we’ll move the vault so its temptation will no longer be in your basement.”
“But—but then folks will assume I’ve done something wrong!” Cornelius protested.
“You have,” the bishop countered sternly. “You’ve stolen from the neighbors who trust you. Answering their difficult questions about your dismissal will be part of your penance.”
“We’ll be expecting you to confess before the congregation at our next church meeting,” Preacher Ben continued. “You must answer to God and to our members even if you’re our deacon—especially because you’re our deacon. If the members vote that you should be shunned, you’ll face the consequences, as any of them would. Your position doesn’t put you above our rules or exempt you from following them.”
“Please! I swear to you,” Cornelius pleaded in a shaky voice. “As God is my witness, I will renounce Satan’s hold on me and I’ll never darken the door of a casino again. I’ll repay my debt in monthly installments—weekly, if you prefer,” he added plaintively. “I beseech you to forgive me and allow me a second chance. We—we can move my workbench out into the main room right now, as you’ve requested.”
Drew heard some shuffling and shifting in the basement and decided he’d listened long enough. Although he was itching to know how much money Cornelius had stolen, he sensed Tom and Ben might keep that information to themselves.
As he headed back the way he’d come, past the lilac bush and across the Riehls’ front yard, Drew suspected that this episode with Cornelius was like the dirt that rose up around a mole’s hole: what could be seen on the surface was small compared to the length of the mole’s long underground tunnels.
* * *
After the bishop returned home and chatted with them for a bit, Loretta and Rosalyn walked back to the house in haste to prepare the noon meal. Dat was a stickler about having his dinner on time. But when they entered the kitchen, the house was so hushed they wondered if he was home.
What had the three men discussed in their absence? Loretta and Rosalyn knew better than to venture downstairs, just in case their father was working more quietly than usual. They peeled fresh carrots from the garden, as well as some onions, and placed them in a roasting pan with a little water and the meatloaf they’d made earlier that morning. They stirred together a salad of canned pineapple chunks and mandarin oranges, too, because Dat really liked it. A loud squeal, as though a heavy object was being dragged across the basement floor, alerted them to their father’s presence.
“Why do you suppose Dat’s still downstairs?” Loretta asked in a low voice.
“I’m not sure I want to find out.” Rosalyn sighed. “Sooner or later, though, I’m sure we will. Let’s go dig some beets and potatoes before dinner, rather than hanging around in the kitchen on pins and needles.”
Nearly an hour later they carried two large bins of vegetables into the mudroom. As Rosalyn checked the roaster, Loretta glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past twelve, and Dat insisted on eating at noon. Why hadn’t he come upstairs?
She opened the door to the basement. “Dinner’s ready, Dat!” she called out.
“I can’t be interrupted right now,” he said in a voice that sounded strangely nervous. “You girls go ahead and eat—just leave me a plate in the oven. Then go ask Nora how many more clocks she has room for in her shop. Take your time and enjoy the store.”
Loretta gazed at Rosalyn, who appeared equally dumbstruck by their father’s response. Something very strange was going on. Loretta knew better than to ask Dat about it, so she closed the basement door. “I’m not hungry after the odd things that have happened this morning, but we’d better do as he says,” she whispered.
Rosalyn nodded, pulling the roaster from the oven. “Who’s to argue when
Dat sends us to Nora’s store? Still, I have a feeling something drastic has happened.”
“Jah, Bishop Tom seemed even more unsettled when he got home than he was when he arrived at our house,” Loretta mused aloud. “Something tells me that when the other shoe drops, we’ll not be ready for it.”
Chapter Seventeen
As Drew entered the Riehls’ kitchen Thursday evening behind Edith and Asa, who were carrying Leroy and Louisa in their baskets, he tried to gauge the level of tension on Loretta and Rosalyn’s faces. Rosalyn had appeared nervous this morning when she’d come over to announce that Cornelius was calling a family meeting at their house for supper, and she still wore a stressed expression. Loretta was bustling around the table to pour water in the glasses, her hands trembling slightly as she tipped the pitcher.
Drew tried to catch Loretta’s eye to reassure her with a smile, but she was focused on getting everything completed correctly. It seemed such a shame that she and her sisters had prepared innumerable family dinners since their mamm had died, yet this evening they were behaving as though one little spill or an over-browned piecrust would set off their father’s temper.
“I hope it’s all right that I brought Mamm’s recipe for zucchini casserole,” Edith said as she set her foil-covered glass pan on the table. She glanced around and lowered her voice. “Where’s Dat?”
Loretta pointed at the basement door. “He’s been in a foul mood all day,” she warned in a whisper.
“No, he’s been wound as tight as a top ever since Bishop Tom and Preacher Ben came over yesterday,” Rosalyn corrected. “We have no idea what happened, because the bishop asked us to—”
Heavy footfalls on the basement stairs made the three sisters scatter like mice escaping a cat. As Drew set the gelatin salad he’d made on the table, he spotted a beautiful cherry pie on the counter, for which he suspected no one would have an appetite by the time Cornelius had said his piece.
“Do I smell grilled chicken?” he asked with a hopeful smile. “A mouthwatering aroma met us as we came up the lane.”
Loretta nodded. “At noon, Dat complained about how hot it was in the kitchen, so we baked some potatoes on the coals and cooked the chicken on the grill,” she said.
Drew sighed to himself. He wondered if Bishop Tom had confiscated the air conditioner in Cornelius’s shop—which would mean the deacon was getting a taste of the discomfort his daughters dealt with every day. When bishops discovered offensive items like televisions, cell phones, and computers, they usually asked members to put them away, trusting those folks to obey. Cornelius, however, had committed far more grievous offenses, so perhaps Bishop Tom had sensed he should remove the temptation of the air conditioner altogether.
Cornelius stepped into the kitchen and shut the basement door with more force than was necessary. His face was flushed and his forehead was damp with sweat. He eyed Asa and Drew suspiciously. “Where’s Gingerich?”
Asa exchanged a glance with Drew, shrugging. “We haven’t seen Will for a couple of days,” he said. “I think Luke has him working over in—”
“Confound it, Loretta, you did tell him to come, didn’t you?” Cornelius demanded. He stood behind his chair at the head of the table, glowering at her.
“I did, right after breakfast,” Loretta murmured. Her hazel eyes burned with indignation. “Why are you lashing out at us, Dat? I told Will to be here at six o’clock—eight minutes from now.”
“We’ve done everything you’ve asked of us,” Rosalyn said in a pleading tone.
“Someone has done a whole lot more,” Cornelius countered dourly. “And as the minutes tick by, I’m becoming convinced that Gingerich is involved. Still has an ax to grind because I told him he couldn’t marry—”
“Knock, knock!” Will said as he let himself in. After entering the kitchen, he handed Loretta a loaf of banana bread and a tub of goat cheese. “I’m not much of a cook, so I figured Nazareth’s bread and cheese spread would be a more welcome contribution.”
“Denki, Will,” Rosalyn said as she took a plate from the cabinet. “It’s gut to see you.”
“We’re all here now,” Cornelius stated brusquely, gesturing toward the table. “Take your seats. As we pray over this meal, we must ask for God’s wisdom and guidance in dealing with a vexing situation.”
Rather than taking his usual seat across from Loretta, Drew chose the place next to her, on the end opposite from Cornelius. She and Rosalyn had left their mother’s customary chair at their father’s left vacant. Across from them, Edith sat between Will and Asa, who took the seat to Cornelius’s right.
As they bowed their heads in silence, Drew’s pulse thrummed. Help me deal with whatever venom Cornelius spews at us, Lord, he prayed. Help me to be a solution rather than a part of the problem—and bless Loretta and her sisters with Your healing, comforting grace.
Cornelius cleared his throat loudly to end the prayer. Loretta quickly reached for the zucchini casserole as Rosalyn handed the bowl of baked potatoes to her dat. He stabbed a large potato with his fork and held it up, shaking it at them as he scowled. “We’ve got a hot potato on our hands, a situation that burns like the coals in the bottom of the grill—or the fires of hell,” he said, glaring at each person around the table in turn. “Who among you is the Judas, betraying me to the bishop?”
The girls’ eyes widened fearfully. Edith sucked in her breath. “What are you talking about, Dat?” she asked. “I have no idea what’s happened to upset you.”
“We don’t know, either,” Loretta whispered, setting the zucchini casserole on the table so she could fold her hands in her lap. “Bishop Tom sent Rosalyn and me to visit with Nazareth after he and Preacher Ben came over yesterday.”
“W-we’ve been very worried,” Rosalyn added softly. “We’re guessing the bishop said or did some serious things, but we—how were we to know why he came to see you?”
“Jah, and after we returned home, you sent us away, too, Dat,” Loretta put in. “I can’t remember the last time you didn’t eat your dinner with us.”
In the tense silence that followed, Drew gathered his thoughts carefully. It was despicable, the way Cornelius was making his daughters fret as they tried to guess the situation that Bishop Tom had discussed with him.
Asa picked up the platter of chicken in front of him and took two pieces with his fork. “I’m at a loss as well,” he said, shaking his head. “The work at the shop’s been steady lately, so—”
“Someone at this table knows too much for his own gut,” Cornelius interrupted bluntly. “Did you do this to spite me, Gingerich?”
Will leveled his gaze at Loretta’s dat, speaking so low that Drew had to strain to hear him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why do you expect answers when you’re not asking questions that make any sense?”
Cornelius let the potato drop onto his plate with his fork in it. “I do expect answers, because someone at this table dares to eat my food even as he sits tight on his grievous betrayal. And as I think back,” he added tersely, “I believe Nora’s involved, as well.”
Drew sensed Cornelius would never admit the extent of his wrongdoing—and he wouldn’t stop interrogating them until someone provided the answer he wanted. “All right, Cornelius, I’ll confess—and then it’s your turn,” he said calmly. “After hearing some rumors and becoming curious about the number of times you’ve gone to Kansas City lately, Nora and I followed you Tuesday morning. As a member of the church, I was concerned about you—and now that I know where you’ve been going, I fear for your soul—and for the welfare of our district.”
“You what?” Cornelius’s voice rang angrily in the kitchen as he slapped the tabletop. “I should’ve known better than to trust that nosy woman who’s too independent for her own gut! That was her van at the rest area, wasn’t it? And you put her up to this!”
Drew winced when the babies began to whimper, startled by Cornelius’s loud voice. He recalled the sight of Cornelius in an English suit
and striped tie but he didn’t think it wise to quiz the man at the other end of the table about such details. “Jah, that was her van. We saw where you went—”
“And I have confessed all that to Bishop Tom,” Cornelius interrupted before Drew could get more specific. “I have acknowledged my mistake, and the slate has been wiped clean, so this matter is settled—and all talk of it is to go no farther than these kitchen walls.”
Drew wasn’t surprised that Loretta’s dat was keeping the pertinent details of his confession to himself. Apparently he’d convinced Bishop Tom and Preacher Ben to keep silent as well, rather than bringing this matter before a meeting of the members at their next church service.
Or maybe he’s fudging about that. And he’ll keep hiding the truth—keep his family from knowing the details—unless you spell them out. Drew’s thoughts spun faster as he saw the curiosity and concern tightening everyone else’s faces.
“What you did was absolutely wrong, Detweiler,” Cornelius continued in an agitated voice. “It’s nobody’s business where I choose to go. You are no longer welcome in this house, and I forbid you to see Loretta—”
“Dat, what on earth’s going on here?” Edith demanded as she gazed from her father to Drew. “If you’re swearing us to silence, you should at least tell us what—”
“I don’t have to tell you a thing, Edith,” Cornelius retorted. “‘Honor thy father and thy mother—’”
“You and I need to talk, Cornelius. Let’s step out to the porch—or I can reveal everything I’ve seen and heard since Tuesday, so your family knows exactly what you’ve been doing,” Drew said as he rose from the table. The twins were crying loudly now, so it was best to get their grandfather out of the kitchen, anyway.
His heart pounded as he passed through the front room with Cornelius close behind him. When he stepped through the door, Cornelius grabbed his arm.
“We can’t talk here! Everyone in the kitchen will be able to hear—”
Drew spun around to hold Cornelius’s gaze. “They’ll only hear what you’re angry enough to spout off about,” he countered softly. “Why do you think you deserve to keep your secret? If you’ve truly confessed, the members of our church need to know what you’ve done—why you’re pleading for their forgiveness. I really don’t think Bishop Tom’s going to keep silent about this matter.”
A Simple Wish Page 15
