by Marta Perry
“They might find it,” Josiah said, but she could tell that he didn’t really believe that would happen.
“Maybe.” Geneva’s face was thoughtful. “But there have been some break-ins lately, mostly at isolated farmhouses. The thieves might be getting braver.”
“Isaiah Stoltzfus’s house was broken into a few weeks ago while the family was away visiting. But the thieves ransacked the whole house.” Much as she’d like to believe in that solution, she couldn’t quite manage it. “Would they just take a ring?”
“Ja, how would they know where it was kept?” Josiah saw the flaws in that as well as she did.
“Someone might have told them.” Geneva obviously didn’t want to give up on her idea. “Maybe someone mentioned it in all innocence, and the thieves overheard the conversation.”
“Really?” That seemed unlikely.
Geneva smiled suddenly, as if laughing at herself. “I know that sounds silly. But there has to be some way of figuring out what happened. You know, maybe it would be for the best if she did go to the police.”
“Ach, no!” Panic grabbed at Leah’s heart. “The police—what would my parents say, and the bishop, and the ministers? That would be terrible.”
Geneva reached across the worn pine tabletop to grasp her hand. “I know the idea of the police sounds scary. But Chief Adam Byler is a fair, sensible person. And if he were involved, Angela Grayson would have to answer his questions about the ring.”
“There must be another way.” Leah knew she sounded desperate, but she couldn’t help it. “I can’t have the whole church community know I’ve been called a thief.”
“It won’t come to that.” Josiah clasped her other hand, holding it warmly in his. “You are innocent, and God will protect you.”
“Of course He will,” Geneva said. “But it won’t hurt for us to take some action, too.”
“But what?” It was gut of Geneva to want to help, but the more Leah thought of it, the fewer options she saw. “Mrs. Grayson would never talk about it to me. That’s certain sure.”
“No, but she might talk to me once she calms down.” Geneva’s blue eyes sparkled, as if she’d thought of something that amused her. “I imagine Angela might already be regretting bursting into my house that way. She may be looking for an opportunity to apologize to me, so I could give her one.”
Leah mulled that over. Even though Geneva acted just like anyone else, the Morgans had been the most important family in the township for as long as anyone could remember. It was true that Mrs. Grayson might regret antagonizing her.
“Even if she wants to apologize, how will that help?”
“I’ll get her talking,” Geneva waved her hands in the air, as if about to produce an answer there. “Maybe she’ll let something slip that will help.” Her voice grew more enthusiastic as she talked. “Tomorrow morning is the Library Friends meeting. She’s sure to be there. Are you working tomorrow?”
“I’m supposed to work at the Reynolds house. But if Mrs. Reynolds hears…” She didn’t want to finish that, as she seemed to see all her jobs disappearing.
“If there’s a problem, you just come here instead,” Geneva said briskly. “And if not, come after work. You, too, Josiah. We’ll talk it over then.” She jumped up and came around the table to hug Leah. “In the meantime, try not to worry. Okay?”
“I will try.” That was easy to say. Leah had a feeling it would not be so easy to do.
Josiah spent the first part of the drive to the Miller farm trying to reassure Leah, but eventually he had to admit to himself that he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Leah didn’t seem inclined to talk, and soon the only sound was the clop of the mare’s hooves and the gentle creak of the buggy.
He stole a sideways glance at Leah’s face. Under the brim of her bonnet her expression was pensive, the corners of her soft lips drooping. She looked as if she’d given up already, and that made his heart hurt. Little Leah’s sorrows should be easily fixed, but this one… Despite Geneva Morgan’s optimism, he didn’t see a simple solution.
Leah’s lashes swept up, and she met his gaze. “Will you promise me something, Josiah?”
“If I can,” he said. Promises weren’t to be given unless he could be sure of keeping them.
Her lips firmed, as if she prepared to battle him over this, whatever it was. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this. Not right away, anyway.”
What was in her mind? “What about your mamm and daad? And Abe?”
“Not yet,” she said, her gaze suddenly pleading. “They will be so upset. And maybe by tomorrow, Geneva will have found something out.”
“Surely you want to tell Abe. He’s your big brother.” Abe had always been especially close to Leah. “He’d want to know.”
“He’d want to fix it,” she corrected with a slight smile. “And he can’t. Besides, he has enough on his hands now with a brand-new boppli. I don’t want him worrying about me.”
The determination in her voice surprised him a bit, but Leah was growing up, wasn’t she? And she knew her brother. Abe would want to make her problem better.
“All right,” he said finally. “But you’ll have to tell them soon, before they hear it from someone else.”
“Ja. I know.”
He didn’t have the heart to push her further. But he didn’t really see a way this would be cleared up without folks knowing.
He concentrated on the turn into the farm lane, trying not to think what Abe would say if he knew Josiah had held this back from him.
The farmhouse came into view, as well as the barns and outbuildings beyond. No one was in sight.
“Mamm and Daad and the little ones went over to the sale at New Holland today,” Leah said, interpreting his look. “They should be back soon.”
He pulled the buggy to a stop at the back door, and Leah jumped down.
“Denke, Josiah. For being such a gut friend.” She scurried toward the door before he could answer.
He clucked to the mare, driving ahead to the turnaround space in front of the barn. But when he reached the back door again, Leah came flying out of the house as if someone were chasing her, her face white.
“Josiah, komm. Schnell. Someone has broken in.”
He dropped the lines and jumped down in an instant, grabbing her arm. “Stay here.” He pushed her toward the buggy, ran to the house and bolted into the kitchen. And stopped, shocked.
The cabinet doors hung open, pans pulled out onto the floor, a few cups broken on the counter. The flour bin had been tipped over, and spilled flour drifted over the cups like snow.
He stepped over a kettle and moved quickly through the rest of the downstairs, finding a similar mess in each room. By the time he’d looked through the first floor, Leah reappeared at the kitchen door.
“You’d best stay outside,” he said, but he doubted she’d listen.
Sure enough, she came in, shaking her head at the mess. “Is the rest as bad?”
“I haven’t checked upstairs yet. I’ll do that now. You stay here.”
“I’m coming.”
At least she stayed behind him as they went up the steps. Clearly the intruders were long gone. With everyone out at the sale, they hadn’t run into any trouble breaking in, but their boldness wondered him. Broad daylight, and they’d come right in.
The upstairs was a similar mess, with even the mattresses pulled off the beds. Looking for money, no doubt. Amish used banks, of course, but some of them did like to keep a substantial sum in cash in the house.
He stood in the doorway of the room that Leah must share with her little sister, Sarah. Leah bent to pick up a faceless rag doll, its stuffing spilling out.
“Why would they do something like this?” She gestured with the doll, and tears glistened on her lashes. “It’s just mean. Sarah will be so upset.”
“Ja.” He had no answer for that. “Do you know if your daad had any money tucked away?”
That must be what the thieves
had been after. There wasn’t much else they’d want to steal in an Amish household.
“He keeps a cash box under the dresser in Mamm and Daad’s room.” She hurried into the larger bedroom, and he followed her. The box lay on the floor half-under a quilt, open and empty.
“Ach, that’s bad.” He couldn’t imagine what Harvey Miller would say to this. He’d accept it as God’s will, but it wouldn’t be easy for him.
“He took out money for the sale, I think,” Leah said. “I hope there wasn’t too much left here.”
His ears caught the sound of a buggy. “They must be home. We’d better go down and try to prepare them.”
Maybe it was as well that Leah was so determined not to tell her folks about her troubles. It seemed they already had plenty of ills to deal with today.
He’d reached the bottom of the stairs when Leah spoke his name. He stopped, turning. She stood up a step, putting their faces on a level so that he looked right into the deep green of her eyes…like looking into the depths of a lake, it was.
“Do you think…” She hesitated, as if reluctant to say the words on her mind. “Do you think the break-in could have anything to do with what happened with Mrs. Grayson today?”
Josiah was silent for a moment, finding Leah’s nearness and her intent gaze oddly disturbing. “I don’t know. It’s odd, the two things happening in the same day, ain’t so?”
“Ja.” Her voice was soft, almost breathless. “Odd.”
He forced himself to concentrate on the facts, not on a sweet face and green eyes. “But can you picture Mrs. Grayson rummaging through your house, even if she thinks her ring is here?”
Leah’s nose wrinkled. “Well, no. I guess not. But still, it’s strange, that’s certain sure.”
Chapter Three
Leah finished washing the last dish and handed it to her sister, eight-year-old Sarah, to dry. She glanced at her mother. Mamm was putting dishes in the cupboard, but her face was drawn with fatigue, pale against her dark dress and black apron.
Leah took her arm gently. “You sit down now, Mamm. Sarah and I will put away these few dishes.”
“That’s right, Mammi,” Sarah echoed. She was a sweet, sensitive child, one who noticed when someone else was hurting.
For a moment Leah thought her mother would argue the point, but then Mamm crossed the kitchen to her rocking chair and sat down, reaching automatically for her knitting.
Leah exchanged glances with her father. Poor mammi was truly shaken at having the sanctity of her home invaded in such a way.
“Komm, now, Becky.” Daad bent to pat her mamm’s hand. “We’ve cleaned most everything up, thanks to the brothers and sisters who hurried to help us. The kinder will be in from their chores soon. Don’t let them see you upset.”
Daadi’s words seemed to work. Mamm leaned back against her cushion, and soon the knitting needles clicked in time to the rocking of the chair. Still, the events of the afternoon had been enough to shake anyone.
She and Josiah had rushed out to tell Daad and Mamm, trying to prepare them. It had seemed that no sooner had her parents looked through the house than the neighbors started arriving to help, summoned when her brother Ephraim ran across the field to Abe’s house.
News spread quickly in the Amish community, even without telephones and computers. Some people showed up bearing food…the Amish answer to every problem, she sometimes thought. Many hands had made light work, and the house was cleaned up in no time. Everything looked just as it should, but Leah suspected it would take longer to erase the memory from their thoughts.
Ephraim, Joseph and Sammy trooped into the kitchen, their chores apparently finished. Joseph and Sammy seemed to be arguing about something, and she touched their shoulders lightly.
“Don’t be fratching now,” she said quietly. “Mamm is upset enough without that.”
“We weren’t,” Joseph said. “But Sammy said Daadi should call the police, and I told him no, and he said…”
Leah put her fingers over her young brother’s lips. “Enough.”
“Ach, Leah is right.” Daad sat on a kitchen chair and drew the two younger boys to him, holding them against his knees. “Sammy, it is not for us to seek vengeance. Someone did a wrong to us today, but we forgive. God will deal with them.”
“But the police…” Six-year-old Sammy, the baby of the family, always seemed to want the last word.
“We must respect the Englisch police, just as we follow the Englisch laws. But we don’t seek them out. No one has been hurt, and we won’t become involved with the police for the sake of a few dollars, ja?”
Sammy nodded reluctantly. Leah took a steadying breath and began stacking dishes in the cabinets. Daad’s thoughts about the police were those of most Amish. The Bible said that they should live in the world but not of the world. That meant not copying the ways of the world or adopting its values, but living simply and humbly, trusting in God’s will.
What would Daad think if his own daughter were involved with the police? With the Englisch courts? Her courage failed her at the thought.
Sarah tugged at her apron. “Leah, will you go with me to the barn? I want to check on Dolly, but…”
Sarah let that trail off, but Leah understood. Her little sister was afraid to make her usual trip to the barn to say good-night to her pony.
For an instant Leah burned with anger at those who would take away a child’s trust. She pushed down the anger, reaching instead for forgiveness. That was the only way.
“Ja, sure. I’d like that.” She took Sarah’s hand, and they slipped out the back door.
It was dusk, and the shadows lengthened under the hedge of lilac bushes along the back porch. Leah’s eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light, and she and Sarah started across the lawn.
As they passed the toolshed, she glanced at the phone shanty. The Ordnung forbade the installation of a phone in the house, but most Amish shared the use of a phone in an outside shanty for business and emergencies. Her worries weren’t exactly business, but it was possible that Geneva Morgan would call if she’d thought of anything that would help.
She touched Sarah’s shoulder. “Wait here a minute. I want to see if Mrs. Morgan called. All right?”
Sarah nodded, seeming braver now that she was outside and it wasn’t as dark as it had looked from the window.
Leah hurried into the shanty and pressed the button on the battery-powered answering machine. It wasn’t Geneva’s voice she heard, unfortunately. It was Mrs. Reynolds, the Englisch woman she babysat for on Fridays. Mrs. Reynolds was sorry, but she’d made other arrangements.
Leah stared at the machine for a moment. So it had started already. News must spread quickly among the Englisch, too. She remembered Geneva’s comment about coming to her tomorrow. Geneva had realized this would probably happen.
Leah hurried back out of the shanty, glancing to where she’d left Sarah. But Sarah wasn’t there.
She caught a flicker of white apron by the barn door. Apparently Sarah’s desire to see her pony had overcome her fears. Leah started after her, smiling in spite of the news she’d just heard.
Tomorrow would be all right. She’d just tell her parents that Mrs. Reynolds had canceled, but Geneva wanted her for an extra day this week. But after that—
Much as she hated to admit it, Josiah had probably been right. She’d have to tell her parents about Mrs. Grayson and the missing ring.
She’d put Josiah in a difficult place, asking for his promise not to tell. She hadn’t been thinking of him or of his friendship with her brother, just of herself. That was wrong.
A sound alerted her, and she glanced at the open barn door to see Sarah bolt through it. Sarah raced to Leah and flung herself into Leah’s arms, gasping and on the verge of tears.
“Sarah, was ist letz? What’s wrong?”
“I think…I think there’s someone in the barn. Leah, maybe it’s the robbers. Maybe they came back.”
“Hush, now.” Leah put her
arms around Sarah, holding her close. “Are you sure it wasn’t the horses you heard? Or an owl? Those people are far away by now. They wouldn’t come back.”
“They might.” Sarah knuckled away tears. “Aren’t you scared?”
Leah patted her cheek. “I’m not scared because I’m sure no one is there. You wait here while I turn the lantern on, and then you’ll see for yourself, ja?”
Sarah clung to her for another moment, but then she let go and nodded. “Ja. But be careful.”
“I will.” She walked quickly to the black rectangle that was the barn door. Sarah had gone through a spell of being afraid of the dark, and she couldn’t let that fear take hold of her little sister again.
Leah paused for a moment at the door, ashamed to find a prickle of fear running down her spine. That was plain foolish. No robber would stick around here, not when half the Amish community had been milling around only an hour or two ago.
The battery lantern hung on a hook just to the left of the barn door. Leah swung her hand in an arc, feeling for it. Nothing.
She took a step closer, feeling again. Where was it? Her fingers touched a projection, fumbled with it. There was the hook. But where was the lantern?
The shiver of fear grew colder, and she dismissed it firmly. She listened, intent. There was nothing, just the familiar sounds of horses moving in their stalls, knowing she was there. A whicker from Dolly, probably wondering why Sarah hadn’t come to tell her good-night.
If Sarah had taken the lantern down before she heard whatever frightened her, it might be on the floor. Leah knelt, feeling for it, praying it wasn’t broken.
Her fingers brushed the rough wooden planks of the barn floor, dusted with bits of hay and straw. If only—
Her fingers and her thoughts seemed to freeze. She knew every sound of the barn, except that one. That was not a horse, or a bird. Something else was in the barn. Or someone else.
She fought for calm. If she ran out of the barn, she’d frighten Sarah even more. And it couldn’t be a person, surely. Maybe it was a raccoon or a possum, trying to get into the feed.
