“Don’t know. Probably so.”
“Are you going to let the sheriff know about this?”
“No need to involve the law. Even though I’m not happy about this, no one was hurt, and I’m turning the other cheek just like the Bible says we should do.”
Ruth bent down and picked up a chair that had been overturned. “If it is some rowdy English fellows, it’s not likely they’ll stop until someone catches them in the act and they’re put in jail.”
“I know that already, but I’m not going to bother the sheriff.”
“Okay.” Ruth nodded toward the house. “If we hurry and eat, we can all come back to the shop and help you clean up before it’s time for Grace and me to leave for work.”
He motioned to the floor. “After seeing this mess, I’ve lost my appetite. You go on up to the house and eat. I’ll get something after I’ve cleaned things up in here.”
Ruth shrugged and headed out the door.
Ruth shivered as she started for the house, and she knew it wasn’t from the chilly morning air. Had the same person who’d ransacked their house broken into her father’s shop? Why would anyone do such a thing?
Stepping into the kitchen, she told the rest of the family, “Dad’s shop has been broken into.” She drew in a quick breath. “Broken pieces of furniture are all over the floor.”
Mom’s face blanched, and she grabbed hold of the cupboard as though needing it for support. “Oh, no, not again.”
Martha set the plate she’d been holding onto the table. “Maybe now Dad will notify the sheriff.”
Ruth shook her head. “He says no. He’ll turn the other cheek as the Bible says we’re to do.”
“But what harm could there be in letting the sheriff know? It doesn’t mean Dad will have to press charges or anything.”
Mom walked across the room as if she were moving in slow motion, removed her shawl from a wall peg, and opened the back door.
“Where are you going?” Ruth called.
“Out to speak with your daed.”
Martha pulled out a chair and sank into it with a groan. “Mom won’t get anywhere with Dad; she never does. Whatever he says, she’s always in agreement with, so he won’t be phoning the sheriff.”
“Is Grace still in her room?” Ruth asked.
Martha nodded. “She hasn’t come down yet. Why do you ask?”
“I need to see if she’ll ask Cleon to speak to Dad about this.”
“Why Cleon?”
“Dad thinks highly of him, and if anyone can convince Dad to notify the sheriff, it will be Cleon.”
Later that morning as Grace traveled down the road in her buggy toward the Schrocks’ place, she prayed they would be back from their trip and that Cleon would agree to speak to her father. She also prayed that Dad would listen. At Ruth’s suggestion, she’d agreed to take a separate buggy so that she could stop by to see Cleon before she headed to work. Passing a phone shed on the way, she felt tempted to pull over and call the sheriff herself but thought better of it. If Dad found out she’d done that, she would never hear the end of it. No, it would be better if Cleon convinced Dad to contact the sheriff.
A short time later, Grace pulled her rig into the Schrocks’ driveway. Cleon’s twenty-year-old brother, Ivan, was out in the yard. “I’m glad you’re home from Montana. When did you get back?” she called as she stepped down from her buggy.
“Got home late last night.”
“Is Cleon here?”
“Jah. He’s checking on his bee boxes right now.” Ivan nodded his blond head in the direction of the meadow out behind the Schrocks’ three-story home. “What brings you by so early this morning?”
“I’m on my way to work, but I wanted to speak with Cleon about something.”
“Does it pertain to your wedding?”
She shook her head and tied her horse to the hitching rail near the barn.
“Want me to go fetch him?”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll head out to the meadow myself. I’d like to see how things are going with his bees.”
“Jah, okay. See you later then, Grace.”
Grace lifted the edge of her skirt as she stepped carefully over the cow flops in the pasture, then traipsed through the tall grass leading to the open space where Cleon kept his bee boxes. The newly risen sun had cast a beautiful orange haze on the sky, and she could smell the distinctive, crisp odor of fall in the air. If she hadn’t been so upset, she might have felt a sense of peace from the scenery.
When she reached the first grouping of bee boxes, she stopped and stared at the bees buzzing around one of the boxes as though looking for a way to get in. She wondered if the bees felt trapped once they were inside the box. That was certainly how she felt—trapped. And there seemed to be no way out. No way to forget the past or make her family feel safe in their own home again.
Grace spotted Cleon across the field, and her frustrations abated some. His easygoing mannerisms and genuine smile made her feel safe and loved. Drawing in a deep breath, she rushed over to him.
“Grace! What a surprise. I was planning to come by your place after you got off work today, but I sure didn’t expect to see you here this morning.”
“I took my own rig and left the house early. I’ll be heading to work soon, but I wanted to speak with you first thing.”
He drew her close to his side. “What’s wrong? You’re trembling. Are you upset about something or just cold?”
She leaned her head against his chest, relishing the warmth of his jacket and finding comfort in the steady beating of his heart. “I’m upset. We’re all upset.”
“Why’s that?”
“There have been two break-ins at our place in the last week—the first one at the house last Sunday, and then this morning, my daed’s shop was vandalized.”
Cleon held her at arm’s length, and a muscle on the side of his face quivered. “Is everyone all right?”
“We’re fine, but some of Dad’s tools were taken, and lots of other things were ruined.”
“What’s your daed planning to do about this?”
“Nothing. He thinks it was probably done by whoever turned over outhouses at the schoolhouses near Kidron a few weeks back.” Grace swallowed hard in an effort to dislodge the lump in her throat. She wanted so desperately to share her suspicions about Gary with Cleon, but fear of his reaction kept the words in her throat. “Dad thinks it won’t happen again and says if we involve the sheriff and he finds whoever did it, we’ll be expected to press charges.”
“Roman wouldn’t do that. It goes against our beliefs.”
She nodded. “Even if we can’t press charges, don’t you think the sheriff should be told so he can keep an eye out for trouble and hopefully catch the person responsible?”
Cleon reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. “I suppose it might be good if the sheriff knew what happened. Maybe there have been some other break-ins in the area, and he might have a better chance of catching whoever did it if he knew what all had been done. Could be some kind of a pattern these kids are using.”
She tipped her head and stared up at him. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe they strike once or twice in one area, then move on to some other place and pull a few pranks there.”
“What they did to our house and Dad’s shop was more than a prank, Cleon.”
“You’re right, and it could get even more serious if they’re not stopped.”
“So you’ll talk to my daed and offer your opinion?”
He nodded. “Not sure how much influence I have with him, but I will give my two cents’ worth.”
Grace sighed with relief. If Gary was the one responsible and the sheriff caught him, then even without her father pressing charges, she figured Gary would be hauled off to jail. That would get him out of Holmes County and away from Grace and her family. Then she would never have to worry about revealing her secret.
Ruth had just placed a pan of fresh cinnamon rolls
into the bakery case when the bell on the front door jingled. A customer walked in. He was English—the same man she’d seen Grace talking to a few weeks ago in the restaurant parking lot. Ruth recognized his wavy red hair and the haughty way he held himself, like he thought he was something special.
The Englisher stepped up to the counter and stared at Ruth so hard it made her squirm.
“Can I help you?”
“Well, now, that all depends.” He raked his fingers through the sides of his hair, and a spicy fragrance permeated the air, causing Ruth to sneeze.
He wrinkled his nose. “Have you got a cold? Because if you do, you shouldn’t be working around food.”
“I don’t have a cold. I think I must be allergic to something.” She motioned to the glass case that separated them. “Cinnamon rolls just came from the oven. Would you like to try a sample?”
He shook his head, blinking his eyelids. “I didn’t come here for anything to eat.”
“What did you come for then?”
“I need some information.”
“If you want to know anything about the town of Berlin, the Chamber of Commerce would be your best source.”
“I’ve been there already.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small notebook. “The people who work there can’t give me the kind of firsthand information I’m needing.”
She tipped her head in question.
“Personal details about the Amish who live in Holmes County and the outlying areas.” He winked at her. “I can see that you’re Amish by the way you’re dressed, so I thought you’d be a good person to ask.”
Ruth glanced over her shoulder, hoping Karen or Jake Clemons, the owners of the bakeshop, might come out of the kitchen and rescue her, but they were still busy baking in the back room.
The man extended his hand across the counter. “My name’s Gary Walker. I’m a freelance photographer and reporter. Awhile back I did a pretty big article for a new magazine called Everyone’s World. Have you heard of it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t read many magazines.”
“I guess the Amish newspaper is probably more your style, huh?”
“I do read The Budget.” Ruth glanced toward the front door, hoping another customer would come in and wishing this was Sadie’s day to work with her at the bakeshop. “If you already know some things about the Amish, why not write that?”
“I’m not interested in basic facts. I want to know what’s going on in the lives of the Amish people in this area compared to what I’ve learned about Amish settlements in other parts of the country.”
“Do people who read your stories want to know that kind of thing?”
“You’d be surprised what curious readers want to know.” Gary removed the cap of the pen with his teeth and grinned at her. “So what can you tell me—what’d you say your name was?”
Her cheeks warmed. “Ruth Hostettler.”
He started to write it down but lifted his pen and stared at her in a most peculiar way. “Say, you wouldn’t be related to Grace Hostettler, would you?”
She nodded. “Do you know my sister?”
“Let’s just say we’ve met a time or two.”
“A few weeks ago, I saw you talking to Grace in the parking lot of the restaurant where she works. Were you asking her questions about the Amish, too?”
“As a matter of fact, I was.” His forehead wrinkled. “She didn’t tell me much, though. Not a very friendly one, that sister of yours.”
Ruth bristled. I’m not about to tell this man anything, either.
“Have there been any attacks made against the Amish around here?”
Her mouth dropped open. She leaned against the counter, not knowing what to say. Did the man know about the break-ins at their place? Was he hoping she would give him details?
He tapped his foot and glanced around as though growing impatient. “I know of some Amish communities in other parts of the country where the Plain People have been taunted by outsiders trying to make trouble, so I wondered if anything like that has ever happened here.”
Ruth wasn’t about to give him any information, and she felt relief when another customer came into the bakeshop. “You’ll have to excuse me. I need to wait on this lady.”
Gary stepped away from the counter and folded his arms. “I can wait.”
Ruth shook her head, feeling a little braver now that she wasn’t alone with the persistent man. “If you’re not here to buy baked goods, then there’s nothing more to be said.”
“Look, if it’s that little remark I made about your sister not being friendly, I’m sorry. I tend to say stupid things when I’m around pretty women.”
Ruth’s face grew hot, and she turned from Gary and focused on the English woman who had stepped up to the bakery case. “May I help you?”
“I’d like half a dozen cream puffs, two cinnamon rolls, and an angel food cake.”
“I’ll get those for you right away.”
Gary cleared his throat, and when she glanced his way again, he gave her a quick wink and sauntered out the door.
Ruth breathed a sigh of relief. No wonder Grace didn’t want to answer that man’s questions. He’s pushy and arrogant. I hope he gets done with his stories soon and leaves Holmes County.
Grace drew in a deep breath and whispered a silent prayer as she carried a tray full of food out to the restaurant’s dining room. Her hands shook so badly, she didn’t know how she would make it through the day. Ever since she’d heard about her father’s shop getting broken into, she’d been a nervous wreck. She hoped Cleon would find time today to talk to her father about notifying the sheriff, and she hoped Dad would listen.
Grace gripped the tray tighter. If only they knew who was responsible for the break-ins. Could the same person who broke into their house have vandalized her father’s shop, or were they two separate incidences? Were some rowdy English boys the culprits, or could it have been Gary?
She glanced out the restaurant’s front window. No sign of the arrogant man, at least. For the last two weeks, he’d been going from shop to shop, asking people questions about the Amish and snapping pictures whenever he felt like it—even some close-up shots of Amish people. Grace knew this because some of her friends had mentioned that a redheaded Englisher with a fancy camera was nosing around. Grace figured that, after this many days, Gary should have gotten enough information to write ten articles, so it made no sense that he was still hanging around. She’d heard that he’d been seen in Walnut Creek on Saturday, taking more pictures and interviewing anyone willing to talk to him.
As Grace approached an English couple whose order she’d taken earlier, she gritted her teeth with a determination she didn’t feel and carefully set their plates of food in front of them. “Will there be anything else?”
The elderly woman smiled. “I’d like another cup of coffee, please.”
“One for me, too,” the man said with a nod.
“I’ll see to it right away.”
“Are you okay?” Esther asked as she joined Grace in front of the coffeepot moments later. “Your hands are shaking.”
“I’m feeling a little nervous this morning,” Grace admitted. “My daed’s shop got broken into sometime during the night, and it has us all plenty worried.”
Esther’s forehead wrinkled, and she patted Grace’s arm in a motherly fashion. “That’s terrible. I understand now why you’re shaking. You have every right to feel nervous.”
“I didn’t say anything about this before, but someone broke into our house a week ago, too,” Grace whispered.
Esther’s pale eyebrows lifted high on her forehead. “How come you didn’t tell me this sooner?”
“Dad said he thought it was a one-time thing, and since nothing was taken at that time, I saw no point in mentioning it.”
“Do you have any idea who might be responsible, and do you think both incidents were done by the same person?”
“We don’t know, but Dad suspects
it might be some rowdy English fellows.” Grace wasn’t about to tell Esther whom she suspected.
Esther slowly shook her head. “Let’s hope it doesn’t happen again—to your family or to anyone else in our community.”
Grace nodded and headed back to the dining room with her customers’ coffee. Having Gary Walker back in town was hard enough to deal with. Now she had the added worry of whether another break-in would occur.
Chapter 11
It’s good you could meet me and Ruth after work today,” Grace said to her mother as the three of them headed down the sidewalk toward the quilt shop, where a variety of fabric was sold.
Mom nodded. “I thought if we looked at some material for your wedding dress, it might take our minds off this morning’s break-in.”
“Did Dad get everything cleaned up?”
“Jah. He and Martha worked on it while Luke made some deliveries.”
Ruth pursed her lips as she slowed her steps. “I don’t suppose he changed his mind about calling the sheriff?”
“He says he will turn the other cheek, just like before.”
“What if it happens again?”
“Then we’ll have to deal with it.”
Grace clenched her fingers around the straps of her black handbag. How do we deal with it? She wanted to scream out the question but knew it was best to keep silent. When Ruth had met her after work, she’d mentioned that Gary had come into the bakeshop asking questions. It made Grace feel more anxious than ever. What if Gary didn’t leave Holmes County? What if he decided to stay and torment her indefinitely? What if more break-ins occurred?
“Oh, there’s Cleon’s mamm, Irene.” Mom pointed to the dark-haired Amish woman who’d just gotten out of her buggy across the street. “If the two of you would like to go inside the quilt store and start looking around, I’ll join you in a few minutes. I want to see how the Schrocks’ trip to Rexford went and speak to Irene about making some beeswax candles for your wedding.”
“Sure, Mom, we can do that,” Ruth said as the two of them moved toward the door of the shop.
Ruth nudged Grace’s arm as they began looking through some bolts of blue material. “I’m so happy for you and Cleon. I’ll bet you can hardly wait for the wedding.”
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