The Amish Wonders Collection

by Ruth Reid

  Curiosity got the better of him and he rose and held out his hand.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, taking his hand. “I won’t step on your toes.”

  “I might step on yours. I’m not much of a dancer.” He led her out to the center of the dance floor and they began to waltz. “So what news are you bursting at the seams to tell me?”

  She chuckled.

  He stopped dancing. “I didn’t think you had anything. Good night, Erica.”

  “The Diener woman’s children were in the emergency room—again. Along with two small children who were in her care.”

  He continued dancing, making a full box turn, before growing impatient. “And?”

  “Apparently three of the children were X-rayed for ingested glass. The infant in her care was diagnosed with botulism. The doctor suspects Munchausen syndrome by proxy. I know it’s hard to believe any mother could intentionally make their child sick, but it happens more often than people think.”

  He shook his head. “She loves her children. She wouldn’t harm them.”

  “Then keep your eye on the news.” Davis smiled.

  Bo’s stomach wretched. “You leaked the information?”

  “Not yet.” The song ended, and she turned to face the orchestra.

  Bo joined the applause. Continuing to clap, he leaned toward her. “Why involve the news?”

  She smiled. “You’ll figure it out. When the time is right.”

  Bo glared. “Don’t play games with someone’s life.”

  “It’s business. I suggest you join allegiance with those of us who support Great Northern Expeditions.”

  Bo walked off the dance floor and continued out the door.

  He needed air.

  Mattie groaned under her breath at the sight of her garden. Most of the cornstalks were trampled, and deer hooves trailed a course through the cabbage. The pole beans appeared nibbled on as well. Last week she lost a complete row of carrots. Usually the foxglove she planted along the garden’s borders kept the wildlife away. She would have to come up with another remedy.

  Nathan and Amanda ran to the end of the row and sat down in the dirt to play. Mattie bent over and had started picking what pole beans remained when she heard a vehicle in the distance.

  “Nathan and Amanda, kumm here. Nau,” she said. Looking over the pasture toward the dirt road, Mattie eyed the dust storm created in the vehicle’s wake. The driver was going fast considering the number of rocks and exposed roots that made up the road. It wasn’t a customer. Earlier this week she’d asked Alvin to take down the Herbs and Honey For Sale sign. As the vehicle drew closer, Mattie glanced at the barn where Alvin was cleaning out stalls. At least she wasn’t alone. The automobile turned down her driveway. She sucked in a sharp breath and held it until she recognized Bo’s silver car.

  Bo climbed out of the car and waved.

  She waved back. A warm tingling sensation spread along her nerve endings as he strode across the drive, smiling. His gazed fixed on hers.

  She wiped the loose dirt off her hands. “What brings you here, Bo?”

  “You’ve been on my mind.” He grinned.

  He’d been on hers as well. Heat spread up her neck and infused her cheeks.

  Amanda bent down, picked up a clot of dirt, and held it up to Bo.

  He dropped to one knee and received the gift. “Thank you.” He glanced up at Mattie and squinted. “She has your button nose.”

  Unsure how to respond, Mattie looked down at the ground.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He stood up and swiped the dirt off his pant leg. “Can we go sit on the porch? We need to talk about a few things.”

  An image of the doctor’s furrowed brows flashed through her mind as she recalled the battery of questions he’d asked concerning the glass ingestion. Mattie steeled herself. “Are you here officially?”

  He shook his head. “Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Mattie, it’s important.” He squinted. “Let’s find some shade.”

  She glanced at the barn. The stall doors leading outside were standing open, but Alvin wasn’t around. Did she want Alvin involved in this conversation? He would disapprove, lecture her about Englischers . . . “Let’s go in the haus, children, and wash the beans.” She caught a glimpse of Bo’s frown and said, “Would you like a glass of water?”

  He smiled. “I’d love one.”

  “We can talk while I’m washing the beans.” She took the children by the hand, led them to the house and into the kitchen. She set Amanda on the counter next to the sink, then washed her dirty hands with a wet dishcloth. Bo waited patiently as she washed Nathan next. “Take your schweschder into the other room and play quietly,” she instructed.

  Once the children left the room, she filled a glass with water and handed it to Bo.

  “Thanks.” He studied her a moment.

  “I thought you were thirsty.”

  “What happened the other day?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She turned and put the stopper in the sink, then turned on the tap.

  “Yes, you do.” He leaned against the counter, legs stretched out.

  She dumped the basket of beans in the water.

  “You took the children to the hospital.”

  “Then you already know,” she grumbled.

  “Will you look at me?” he said softly.

  She turned her head slightly and lifted her gaze to meet his.

  “I want to hear what happened.”

  “You said this wasn’t official.”

  “The paperwork is being processed—not by me.”

  “Who then?” She spun to face him. “The police?” Of course they were involved. She was on probation. “Am I going to lose mei children again?” For an instant she thought her only option for keeping her kids would be to leave town. She had a cousin downstate and several in Ohio.

  “Tell me what happened,” Bo said.

  Leaving the state would be the better choice. Would they track down her relatives?

  “Mattie.” Bo touched her arm. “I want to help you.”

  Nathan padded into the kitchen. “Wasser, sei se gut.”

  Mattie partially filled a small plastic cup with water and handed it to her son.

  He slurped the liquid and handed the cup back. “Danki.” He ran into the sitting room.

  “Mei friend’s husband was injured at the mill. She asked if I’d watch their two children, and of course I said yes. I’d made biscuits with honey drizzled over them, and the children, except for the boppli, were eating a snack at the table while I tried feeding the boppli. He was very fussy.” She went on to tell Bo how Nathan had climbed up on a kitchen chair to get the jar of honey and how it fell. How she found the children playing in the honey. “They licked the honey off their hands. They didn’t know any better. I couldn’t tell if they had accidently eaten any shards of glass,” she explained. “I had to take them to the doktah.” She told Bo how the baby had diarrhea at her house and again in the hospital, then how the doctor and nurses had bombarded her with questions when the baby started vomiting.

  Alvin entered the kitchen. “I was here. That’s what happened.”

  Bo tensed. “You were here?”

  Alvin crossed his arms. “Stood right where you are nau.”

  Bo looked at the space between them as if silently calculating the distance. He cleared his throat. “Were you aware the baby has botulism?”

  She shook her head. “The emergency room paged Catherine, the boppli’s mamm. She was waiting for her husband to get out of surgery.

  “Are they going to always suspect me? They accused me of harming Nathan when I hadn’t—even had me arrested.” Mattie chewed her nail. She couldn’t go through losing her children again.

  “Has Child Services made contact with you yet?”

  “Nay.”

  Alvin stepped forward. “Are they going to? It was an accident.”

&
nbsp; “Yes, I heard they’re going to. I don’t know when—maybe today.”

  “Your partner?” Mattie said.

  “She’s not my partner.” He bowed his head. “But she’s the one who told me last night.”

  Feeling lightheaded, Mattie gripped the countertop. “Can’t you stop her?”

  Bo shook his head. “It’s a long story. I think she has other motives.” Bo’s eyes widened as if he’d had some sort of revelation. He turned to Alvin. “I should probably talk with the bishop.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Attending the Amish Sunday service was awkward. Memories stirred within Bo that he couldn’t easily suppress. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. He pulled on the collarless shirt out of habit more than tightness as he moved to the back row of benches and took a seat on the men’s side of the barn. Andy’s clothes that Mattie had loaned him came in handy again today. Although the members’ expressions clearly indicated he didn’t belong.

  He hadn’t spotted Mattie yet, but that wasn’t surprising. The women kept their heads down and were all wearing black dresses, white aprons, and white prayer kapps. Even the children Amanda’s age were dressed the same. The fact that Mattie blended into the crowd so well meant Davis wouldn’t find her either, and that was a relief. Yesterday Bo had called his friend Max, who was Davis’s new partner, and learned their plan to visit Mattie today. Bo had chided Max, but his friend merely boasted about looking forward to the long drive in the country with the senator’s daughter. Davis was up to something. A media blitz most likely. Bo had warned Bishop Yoder to expect ruthless comments from the news crews. He even tried to convince the bishop to cancel the service, but the bishop wouldn’t hear of it. Bo had to answer a slew of questions about his faith, some he hadn’t thought about in years, before the bishop would allow Bo to attend the service.

  The singing portion of the service began. Bo scanned the women’s side of the barn, but with the married women seated in the front rows with their backs facing him, he couldn’t locate where Mattie was seated. Bo glimpsed Alvin staring at him and lowered his head. Once the scriptures were read, Bo shifted his thoughts to the message. The bishop spoke about the parable of the prodigal son, and Bo was inclined to believe Bishop Yoder was talking directly to him. Bo shifted on the wooden bench. After sitting three hours without back support, his muscles had seized. He was stiff when the service ended an hour later. Sitting four hours seemed exceptionally long, even for an Amish service. Before the bishop concluded his message, Bo detected engines rumbling outside the barn.

  The commotion erupted the moment the barn door opened and the members began filing into the yard. Bo’s heart pounded as he searched for Mattie. He wanted to protect her from Davis, who was perched in the driveway, waving a legal document and demanding Mattie to come forward. The women held up their hands to shield their faces and hurried across the lawn.

  Noticeably agitated, Davis spoke louder, demanding to speak with Mattie.

  Bo eyed the various members of the news crew, spotted the contact he’d arranged, then nodded at the bishop. Approaching Davis, they removed their straw hats and held them in front of their faces.

  “This is private property,” Bo said. “You’re trespassing.”

  “Bo Lambright?” Davis chuckled. “I know that’s you hiding behind that hat.”

  “Sunday is our day of worship,” Bo said. “We ask that you leave us alone.”

  “You know why I’m here,” she growled. “Where are the woman and her children?”

  “I’m going to ask again. Please leave the premises.”

  “Oh, I get it. You’re hiding behind the hat because you’re afraid the agency will see you defending the Amish woman. You don’t want your face on TV?”

  Bo held his tongue, and when she pushed his hat away from his face, he let it drop on the ground.

  “Erica Delanie, I have a question for you,” the local news reporter said.

  Davis turned. “Yes.”

  “The Amish are known for their meek mannerisms. Was it necessary to knock his hat out of his hands? Wouldn’t most people find that offensive given that the Amish don’t believe in having their photos taken?”

  “I know this person.” She turned to him. “Bo, tell them you’re not Amish.”

  Bo pivoted in the reporter’s direction and lowered his head submissively. “The only statement I wish to make is that Nathan Diener was misdiagnosed. He suffered a rare, life-threatening form of chicken pox. The family is still trying to recuperate and wishes to be left alone.”

  He and the bishop turned and started to walk away.

  Davis spoke up. “She’s accused of harming her children—again.”

  “I’ll catch up with you,” Bo said to the bishop, then turned and faced her. “I find it interesting that the same doctors who misdiagnosed her son would make such a claim. They should have their facts together first. After all, the boy almost died at the hands of his doctor.” He continued toward the house, anxious to see Mattie and make sure she wasn’t shaken up over the matter.

  The bishop had waited for Bo on the porch. “Danki for handling the reporters.”

  “Hopefully they’ll leave everyone alone.” By the type of questions aimed at Davis as he walked away, the reporters were going to have a field day with the senator’s daughter.

  “We could always drop more trees on the road,” Bishop Yoder said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

  Inside the house, Bo looked in the kitchen for Mattie, but didn’t see her. The other women averted their eyes and scooted out of the room. Even Grace avoided him. “Where’s Mattie?”

  “I haven’t seen her,” Grace replied.

  Ben rounded the corner of the kitchen. “The news vans are leaving.”

  “Oh, gut. We can eat outside,” Erma said. “Will you start setting up the tables, please?”

  Bo caught Ben before he left the house. “Have you seen Mattie?”

  Ben shook his head.

  Something was wrong. He eyed Ben.

  “Sorry,” Ben said, opening the door. “I have to set up the tables.”

  Bo approached a group of men talking with the bishop. “Have any of you seen Mattie?”

  The men shook their heads, including Alvin, whose neck muscles had tightened when Bo asked.

  Bo rephrased the question. “Do you know where she is?”

  One by one, the men distanced themselves from the group, leaving Bishop Yoder, Alvin, and Bo alone.

  “I know I’m an outsider,” Bo began. “But I have to talk with her.”

  “She’s gone,” the bishop said.

  “Mattie went home? She shouldn’t be there alone. If the reporters double back—”

  “She left town.”

  The air left Bo’s lungs. “She can’t disappear. The charges haven’t been formally dropped. I have to talk with her.”

  Bishop Yoder cleared his throat. “As I said before, we appreciate your help.”

  Bo shook his head in disbelief.

  Alvin’s stoic expression hardened. “It’d be best if you walked away.”

  Best for whom? Bo wanted to ask. Instead, he drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “Mattie is still going to need help. She’s on probation.” They weren’t listening. “Mattie has my cell number. Tell her to get in contact with me. It’s important.”

  Neither the bishop nor Alvin acknowledged Bo. He’d never felt like more of an outsider than at this moment. A knot formed in his throat and he turned away. Bo hung his head and left the bishop’s house.

  He saw Ben moving a bench from the barn and set it beside a long table. He’d try one more time. “Are Mattie and the children somewhere safe?”

  “Jah,” Ben replied.

  “Where are they?”

  Ben hesitated. He looked at the house, then back to Bo. “I dropped her off at the bus station last nacht.” He shrugged. “But I don’t know where they were going.”

  Erma came up beside them with a bowl of beans in her hand.
“Ben, will you bring another bench out from the barn?”

  “Sure.”

  Erma waited until Grace’s husband walked away. “I don’t know many Englischers who know the words to our Amish hymns. ‘Das Loblied’ is sung in High German.”

  Bo hadn’t given any thought to how easily he recalled the old hymns. “Yes, I’ve . . . sung them before.” He sighed. “Erma, I have to know where I can find Mattie.”

  The older woman studied him a moment. “The first time I met you, I knew there was something different about you—Boaz.”

  “Please,” he pleaded. This wasn’t the time to rehash his past.

  Erma considered his request several seconds. “She’s gone to Centreville, Michigan. An Amish district in St. Joseph County.”

  His stomach wrenched. St. Joseph County was the last place on earth he thought he’d ever return to. Now it didn’t seem like he had much choice. “Do you know where she’s staying?”

  Erma’s mouth twisted. She looked over her shoulder, then back at him. “She’s staying a day or two with her cousin, Verna Mast.”

  “A day or two?”

  “She’s going to Ohio from there.”

  “Thanks.” Bo turned. He had to reach her before she disappeared again.

  As the pot of lemony ginger tea steeped, Mattie gazed out her cousin’s kitchen window. The late-afternoon sun glistened across the corn stalks, radiating a peaceful glow. Verna’s corn towered over anything Mattie had ever grown. She’d have to ask her cousin the secret once she came in from talking with someone on the porch.

  Mattie heard the door open and close as she poured tea into two cups.

  A few moments later, Verna stepped into the kitchen, her leather birthing case in hand. “Sounds like Mary Jean is ready to deliver,” she said. “I might be gone several hours. She labored over thirty-six hours the last two times.”

  Mattie smiled. “I understand.”

  “I have four mothers at full term. Depending on how Mary Jean does, I’ll probably stop and check on mei other patients’ progress while I’m out. There’s fresh bread in the bread box for sandwiches and canned peaches in the basement.”