When the Bishop Needs an Alibi

by Vannetta Chapman

  “Are you kidding?” Rachel ran a hand up and down her neck. “Bread 2 Go is becoming quite the meeting place. Think about it. They’re positioned at the crossroads. They see everyone who comes and goes. And you know how Ruth loves to talk.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the widows to come and see us last night?” Katie Ann rubbed her fingertips over the table her grandfather had made before she was born.

  “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  Rachel’s eyebrows shot up.

  “I thought you might be asleep.”

  “While you were still out?”

  “I am a grown woman.”

  “And a member of this family. Even though you told us not to wait up, of course we did. We were worried. But then Clyde said you were with Henry and Tess, and that maybe you’d decided to stay the night at Tess’s motel rather than come home so late. So we went to bed. We just didn’t sleep very well.”

  “And how did Henry know to follow us to the dunes? I never thought to ask him.”

  “Nancy went by herself to tell him you’d gone out there.”

  “Why would she do that when I told her to wait until morning?”

  Rachel shrugged, but Katie Ann grinned and said, “She told me the Holy Spirit prompted her to do it, that the mare practically took off toward Henry’s house on her own.”

  “If she hadn’t…” A tremor passed through Emma’s body, and she suddenly wished she hadn’t eaten lunch after all. If Nancy hadn’t told Henry, he wouldn’t have arrived in time to jump into the back of the truck. He wouldn’t have followed them up the trail. Unless Jimmy had somehow saved them on his own, they’d have been shot by a murderous park ranger while they perched at the top of a sand dune.

  “Are you okay?” Rachel scooted to the edge of her chair.

  “Fine. Only a little tired.” Emma shook her head, still amazed at how things had turned out. “I am sorry I worried you, but you shouldn’t—”

  “I know.” Rachel held up a hand to stop her protest. “You’re a grown woman and can take care of yourself, but after what happened with the Monte Vista arsonist, you can’t blame a daughter-in-law for being concerned.”

  Her nausea passed, and Emma reached for another slice of warm bread to butter it. “Oh, I won’t blame you for it. I’ll thank you. Having a family worry means someone cares about you. I’m sorry, though, to have put you through it.”

  “Why did you go with Sophia’s schweschder, Mammi?” Katie Ann leaned forward in her chair, arms crossed and a puzzled look on her face. “You had to know it would be dangerous.”

  “I suppose I thought it might be, but mostly I didn’t want Tess to have to go through anything else alone. It seemed that she’d been through so much already.”

  “But you barely knew her,” Rachel pointed out.

  “True.” Emma took a bite of the bread, savored the freshness of it, the richness of the butter. Life was good. Far better than she deserved. She’d be on her knees before bed, thanking the Lord for all of the blessings in her life.

  “She’s not going to explain it any better than that,” Rachel teased.

  “Only because I don’t know how. I’m learning that sometimes you know a person far better than would seem possible. You’re right. I had known Tess less than twenty-four hours, and in truth I didn’t know Sophia so well either.”

  “Gotte bless her soul,” Rachel murmured.

  “I know what you mean, though.” Katie Ann sat back, twirling one kapp string between her forefinger and thumb. “Sometimes when I go with Doc Berry to help with an animal, especially with a horse, it seems I’ve known that animal all my life. We have an instant connection, even though I’ve never set eyes on it before. It’s like something I read in one of Mamm’s books. We’re kindred spirits.”

  Rachel reached over and patted her daughter’s hand. “Gut to know you’re reading a little.”

  “How could I not? You have books everywhere in this house. It’s as if we have an Amish library.” Katie Ann turned her attention back to her grandmother. “Is that what you mean? That you felt as though Sophia was a kindred spirit, and you shared a special bond? Maybe that bond was Henry.”

  “It could be you’re right. I saw how much he was worried about her, and so I wanted to help. As for Tess, I kept thinking of the golden rule, of how I would want to be treated if I were lost and alone.”

  Katie Ann jumped out of her chair and wrapped her arms around Emma. “But you’re not lost or alone. You have us.”

  She stepped back and grinned impishly. “And you have Henry too.”

  Then she bounded out of the house, toward the barn and the animals she loved so much.

  “It’s gut to see the children, to see them running across the fields and toward the barns, to know they’re safe and happy.”

  “It’s just as gut to know the same about you.” Rachel slipped a book out of her apron pocket and slid it onto the table. “We love you, Mamm. You mean the world to us.”

  Emma wanted to answer that, but she didn’t trust herself to do so without breaking into tears. She certainly didn’t want to alarm Rachel more than she already had, so she ducked her head and scooped the last bit of soup out of her bowl.

  The spoon felt inexplicably heavy, and she became aware of the fact that her eyes were burning.

  “You’re exhausted. How about a nap since you couldn’t have slept much last night?”

  It had been a joke between them for years, that Amish women didn’t nap, unlike the heroines in the books Rachel read.

  “I suppose this once…”

  “Ya, just this once.” Rachel whisked the dishes off the table, helped Emma to stand, though she was perfectly capable of standing by herself, and walked her to her bedroom.

  The last thing Emma was aware of was her daughter-in-law pulling back the covers and closing the blinds. And then she fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.

  Seventy-Four

  Henry spent the afternoon at home. Lunch was followed by a short nap in his rocker, and then he paid attention to his dog and attended to a few small projects in his workshop. He needed the normalcy of routine. It was hard to fathom what they’d been through in such a short time. It had been less than a week since Sophia died, two days since he’d been arrested for her murder, twelve hours since Paddock had tried to kill them.

  His arm was still stiff from where the bullet had grazed him, but he had absolutely no intention of going to the doctor. It was barely more than a scratch. If he ran to the doctor every time he cut a finger on a piece of wood or scratched his arms in the barn, he’d accomplish nothing in a day, not to mention the money he’d waste. So instead of heading over to see Doc Wilson, he took some of the Advil he found in the back of a kitchen cabinet. Then he sat out on the front porch and watched the sun make its westward trek, Lexi content to lie at his feet.

  No one interrupted the silence.

  His congregation would understand that he needed a little time alone—time to pray and to rest and to come to terms with all that had happened. As he did those things, Henry was aware of how much his friends cared about him.

  The widows had left blueberry oatmeal muffins in a basket on the porch. Stuart had penciled a note and left it under his saltshaker on the table, telling him to call if he needed a ride anywhere. Someone had brought by fresh milk and eggs. Emma’s grandson Silas had cared for Oreo. A child’s drawing of Henry with a giant head, a body heart shaped like a valentine, and extra-long arms had been stuffed into his mailbox.

  He could have spent the entire afternoon counting his blessings, and he did some of that. But he also petitioned God for the well-being of Tess Savalas. He prayed for Emma, that she would suffer no ill effects from their breakneck plunge down the dunes. He prayed that her spirit would be calm and her heart at peace. He lifted up the young man he knew as Jimmy to the Lord and prayed for his injury. He thanked God for the widows and for Stuart and for Sheriff Grayson. He even managed to utter a word of gratitude for Agent Delaney
, whom perhaps he had misjudged.

  He thanked God for His protection, for the loving community he’d been placed in the middle of, and for the strange and unusual gift he’d been given. As darkness descended, he had an early dinner and went to bed soon after.

  The next day he heard the sound of an approaching horse before he’d finished his morning coffee. Abe hopped out of the buggy with a grin on his face and a package in his hand. “Chocolate zucchini bread from Susan.”

  “She’ll fatten me up yet.”

  “She thought you might say that and wants you to know you’ve earned the extra calories this week.”

  Henry accepted the package and invited Abe in for a cup of coffee.

  “I’d love to, but I’ve a list of errands longer than my arm.”

  “You didn’t have to stop by.”

  “Are you kidding? Susan wouldn’t let me rest until I’d seen you were fine with my own eyes. Of course, we all knew you were. You know how it is.” He pushed his glasses up with his index finger. “Word gets around.”

  “Indeed it does.”

  “Also, she wanted you to know that she went by and saw Deborah King yesterday. The baby’s still a bit colicky, but Deborah seems to be faring better. According to Susan, she didn’t burst into tears even once.”

  “A real improvement.”

  Abe climbed back into his buggy. Then he leaned out and said, “I checked in on Chester because I knew you were worried about him getting in his winter crop. He only had a little left, and we knocked it out yesterday afternoon.”

  “You’re a gut man, Abe Graber.”

  “My bishop taught me well.”

  Abe resettled his hat on his head, raised a hand in farewell, and turned the buggy back up Henry’s lane.

  Henry had checked on Oreo and was working in his garden when Grayson showed up.

  “I wanted you to hear it from me. We arrested Carla Paddock last night.”

  “No one was hurt?”

  “Caught her outside the Colorado Springs airport. She’d booked a private charter, hoping to stay under the radar.”

  “But you were tracking the car she stole.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How did she not guess that?”

  Grayson shrugged. “Arrogance? I’ve learned you can never fully understand some people’s thinking. It’s a waste of energy to try. She gave up once she understood she was surrounded.”

  Henry blew out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how worried he’d been. “That’s gut. We can put this behind us now.”

  “I’d say you’ve earned a rest.”

  “And maybe you can take some of that vacation you were supposed to be on.”

  Grayson reached into his car and pulled out a device that looked like a pair of pliers. “How about we get that bracelet off you?”

  Henry nearly laughed then. “You’re sure it’s okay with the judge?”

  “I received a call from him an hour ago. He said you could come into the office or—”

  “Here’s fine.”

  Five minutes later, Henry stood in the garden, watching the sheriff drive back down his lane and turn onto the blacktop. They’d made a good team, but he was content to return to the life of a bishop and craftsman.

  By the time he made it over to his workshop and began sanding a garden bench, he heard the sound of another buggy, and then Leroy Kauffmann walked into the room.

  “Gudemariye,” Leroy said.

  “And to you.”

  “Wanted to check to see if you need anything.”

  “I don’t, but it’s gut to see you.”

  Henry thought of the drawings Tess still had, of the one showing Leroy shrewdly watching Sophia. He’d never actually doubted the man standing in front of him. He was a good man and an excellent deacon, though given to bouts of somberness.

  He would always wonder, though, if he didn’t ask. “You know I did some drawings of Sophia.”

  “Ya, I heard.” Leroy picked up a birdhouse from the worktable, ran his fingertips back and forth across the smoothly sanded wood.

  “I was trying to find some clue as to what had happened and why. In the process, I inadvertently captured other people who were in the diner at the time.”

  Leroy glanced up sharply.

  “You were in two of the pictures, looking none too happy.”

  “And?”

  “Well, Leroy, I was wondering if perhaps you wanted to share what was bothering you.”

  The momentary look of defiance slipped from Leroy’s expression. He sank onto a stool and admitted, “I’ve been worried about Jesse.”

  Henry waited.

  “He seems more rebellious than ever.”

  “I wasn’t aware your son was struggling.”

  “Most people aren’t aware. I don’t think he even realizes it.” Leroy pulled off his hat and rubbed one side of his head roughly as if he could bat around his thoughts hard enough to make sense of them. “I know one of the days you’re speaking of. I saw you in the diner as well. I should have come over and said hello.”

  “Figured you were busy.”

  “I was meeting with some men who wanted to purchase a part of my crop for the cranes.”

  “And?”

  “We’re still in negotiation, but as we were eating, I saw Jesse walking by the diner. He was using one of those Englisch cell phones. The lad wastes his money on the most foolish things.”

  Henry waited, knowing there was more by the look on Leroy’s face.

  “He’s dating not one, but two girls—one Plain and the other Englisch.”

  Henry had no children, but he could imagine what Leroy was going through—how he must pick up his burden of concern when he opened his eyes each morning, carry it all day, and finally set it down when he drifted off to sleep. “It’s hard not to worry over those we love. However, Jesse is…what? Twenty years old?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “The time of rumspringa often extends into the early twenties.”

  “I thought we’d avoided it altogether, that Jesse was confident and sure of our way of life.”

  “Yet you understand it is our custom to allow the youngies to try Englisch things, to let them experience that way of life before choosing whether to live Englisch or join the church and live under the Ordnung.”

  “Ya. Of course I know that. But it’s difficult when it’s your own child.”

  “Except he’s not a child anymore.”

  “I know that too.”

  Henry stood, walked over, and picked up the birdhouse Leroy had been examining. “I imagine Bethany is worried as well.”

  “She is.”

  “Give her this for me. I want you both to remember that Gotte is watching over Jesse, same as He watches over the sparrow.”

  Leroy closed his eyes for a moment, nodded, and then accepted the gift.

  They walked out to Leroy’s buggy, Lexi running circles at their feet, the sun rising into the vast, blue Colorado sky.

  This was his life. Being a bishop to his congregation, being a friend to his neighbors, trying to carry God’s light into his small corner of the world. It was a good life, and as he watched Leroy drive away, he realized he was only occasionally lonely.

  But there was a remedy for that.

  The question was whether he had the courage to pursue it.

  Seventy-Five

  Emma slept for a solid two hours the day she was rescued, another ten hours that night, and still she took a nap after lunch the next day. Perhaps her body was recovering from what she’d been through. Perhaps stress and fear took a higher toll than a day of domestic chores.

  She woke from her nap feeling more like her old self, eager to bake a batch of cookies for the boys’ after-school snack and help Rachel with dinner. The afternoon passed quickly, and they were setting the dishes on the table when she heard a knock at the front door.

  “I’ll get that.” She hurried through the sitting room, surprised to see Henry standing ther
e, his hat in his hands.

  “We were just sitting down to eat.”

  “I’ve come at a bad time.”

  “Not at all. You know there’s always room for you at our table.”

  By the time they’d walked into the kitchen, the children were already moving down the bench to make room for Henry. Everyone bowed their head for the usual silent blessing of the food, but Henry cleared his throat, looked at Clyde, and said, “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  “We want to thank You, heavenly Father, for Your gifts. For the gift of life and of friendship, for Your hand of protection over our lives, for allowing this beautiful family to share another meal again, for placing me in the position to be their bishop. For all of these things, and of course for the food before us, we give You thanks in the name of Christ.”

  Amens rolled around the table like the wind playing gently across the crops.

  And then dishes were passed—ham and carrots and mashed potato rolls and gravy and salad and a large pitcher of water. Emma was content to enjoy the meal and listen to the conversations around her. Clyde and Silas discussing the crops. Katie Ann telling her mother about an injured bird she’d found in the barn loft—she’d managed to wrap its wing and was going to take it with her to Doc Berry’s on Friday. The boys describing to Henry a fish they’d caught the weekend before with their father.

  “And we’re going back on Saturday,” Stephen said.

  “You should come with us, Henry.” Thomas pulled another potato roll off the serving plate.

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you like to fish?” Stephen asked. “I thought everyone liked to fish.”

  “Well, ya. I do, actually.”

  “Then you’ll come.” Clyde pointed his fork at his bishop. “It would do you gut to rest once in a while, and there’s nothing quite as calming as a few hours spent with a fishing pole in your hand.”

  Henry’s smile caused something in Emma’s heart to ache. For a moment he looked so grateful, so pleased to be included in their plans, and then he covered it up by scratching at his beard and saying, “I suppose I could clear out a few hours in the afternoon.”