It was quite impressive really, how each child had specific jobs to do and that they did them without adult supervision. As I sipped the strong brew of coffee I’d made, I had the opportunity to watch Rowan going about his business, too. He hadn’t stopped moving since the first moment I’d spotted him mending a fence with one of his sons.
The boy looked to be in his mid-teens and I wondered if he was the Gabe Schwartz that the teens at the gas station had been talking about. The group obviously had ties to the community and must have some opportunities to mingle or they wouldn’t have been talking with such familiarity about the Amish kids. It was an interesting dynamic for sure and one that made me think about Naomi Beiler and her fateful relationship with my nephew, Will.
At the heart of it, teenagers were all very similar. Friendship, romance and fun were on everyone’s mind—regardless of their culture. But I definitely thought that Amish teens had it worse off. Not only did they have to deal with the usual coming of age troubles, but they also had to adhere to a much stricter set of laws that forbid them from using any kind of technology, holding hands with their significant others or having much freedom at all. The lifestyle was definitely not Naomi’s cup of tea and tragically, she ended up dead because of another troubled Amish teenager.
I turned away from the window and tried the internet on my phone once again. If I stood in the far corner of the room, I managed to get intermittent service, but it was an irritating process, and so far I hadn’t been able to remain still enough to pull up the information that I was looking for. Surely the house fire that had killed Rowan’s wife had been mentioned in the local newspaper. Was there a connection between that fire and the more recent arsons? I had learned the hard way that true coincidences were rare, and if these events were indeed related, I worried about the implications for Rowan and his family.
The knock at the door startled me and I rolled my eyes at my own jumpiness. But as I took the few steps to cross the room, I couldn’t help having a flashback to the darkened barn back in Blood Rock and the dozen or so Amish men with their long beards and black hats staring down at me as I lay on the floor, bleeding. That was really a bad night, and one that still gave me occasional nightmares.
When I opened the door, I was surprised to see one of the little girls who I had been spying on earlier standing on the steps. There were a few wisps of auburn hair free from her black bonnet and her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, morning air. Her thick black coat was buttoned up to her chin and she wore muddy black boots.
Her bright blue eyes stared up at me unblinkingly and I realized that just as I’d been making observations about her appearance, she had also been studying me with rapt curiosity.
I held my hand out and said, “Hello, I’m Serenity. What’s your name?”
I guessed that the girl was probably around nine years old and when she smiled, her face came alive.
“Lucinda.” She pointed back at the open buggy that was now attached to the pony and went on, “Mareena got Toby hitched up. Do you want to go for a ride with us?”
A sudden jolt of excitement raced through me when I gazed at the large pony stomping his hoof with impatience. The sunshine had warmed the air and the rhythmic drip, drip, drip sound of melting snow from the roof tops filled my ears. The thaw also had created an icy sheen in the barnyard that glittered, making the scene look as if it was the cover of a Christmas card. I deliberated quickly, deciding that the invitation to go for a buggy ride through the winter wonderland was more than I could refuse. The investigation could wait a little longer I easily convinced myself. With an exhilarated rush, I said, “I would love to. Let me grab my coat and gloves.”
My first impression of the spirited pony had been dead on. The buggy surged forward with a jolt that sent me thudding back onto the vinyl upholstered cushion. Mareena, Lucinda’s older sister, held the reins tightly and I could see the strain on her face as she tried to keep the pony from an all-out gallop down the driveway. For a nervous moment, I mentally kicked myself in the butt for putting my life in the hands of a twelve year old, but when the girl jerked hard with the left rein and shouted out an indistinguishable German word, the pony finally slowed.
“Halt mal! Stop…!” The child’s shout from behind us brought both Lucinda and I turning around. A small girl was running after us, shouting a confusing mixture of languages at the buggy.
“Ach…Cacey wants to come,” Lucinda grumbled.
Mareena stood up to pull the high strung pony to a prancing stop. When Cacey reached us, she was breathing hard and looking up at us with pleading eyes. She said, “I want to come, Reena!”
“Oh, all right,” Mareena responded, still fighting the pony to stand still.
Lucinda reached down and grabbed Cacey’s hand as the little girl climbed the step into the cart. The three of us were already crammed onto the narrow seat as it was and I was wondering where the little girl would sit, when Lucinda pushed Cacey onto my lap and the buggy lurched forward once again.
As I clutched the child tightly, I caught a glimpse of Rowan standing beside the barn watching us. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either. The man was impossible to read and that troubled me.
I had to put aside my anxieties about the investigation and focused on hanging on for dear life instead. Cacey leaned back against me rigidly and stared at the scenery flying by with a solemnness that made me wonder why she’d wanted to come along for the ride in the first place.
The cattle corrals swooshed by and soon we were turning out onto the main roadway with only a mild slow down to make the turn without flipping. My heart pounded against my ribcage as the outside wheels lifted off the ground a fraction. The buggy righted itself with a bounce and once again we were moving with speed across the wet pavement.
The bristling needle pricks of wind on my cheeks invigorated my senses and I gulped a deep breath of cold air as I watched fields, barns and farmhouses pass by.
Being in law enforcement, I still bristled at the fact that a mere child was allowed to careen around on the roadway without a license while everyone else had to wait until they were sixteen to drive legally. It was extraordinary what the Amish got away with.
“Mareena, do you have to go so fast?” I asked, still gripping Cacey’s little body tightly.
“It takes a bit for Toby to calm down. He’s awfully feisty,” she told me, but she did begin tugging on the reins and amazingly the pony responded, slowing to a fast-paced walk.
“See, he’s settled now,” Lucinda chimed in.
“Don’t you girls ever get scared when Toby runs off like that?” I said, releasing my hold of Cacey. Seeing the immaculate farmsteads of the Poplar Springs community at a slower speed was more like the wonderland buggy ride that I was envisioning a few minutes earlier.
“Naw, why would we?” Mareena asked. Her eyebrows were lifted and her mouth scrunched up to the side in honest confusion. I glanced at Lucinda to see her face holding a similar expression and it suddenly occurred to me that their brains worked differently than everyone else’s. They honestly weren’t afraid of something that would have made most grown men pee their pants. I wondered how such fearlessness would benefit a child as they grew up, but then I remembered that there were things that they were afraid of, such as getting punished by the Church elders for starters.
Daniel had cued me in that the teenagers were the ones to talk to when information was needed. He had said that they were usually rebellious and would say things that the adults wouldn’t, or something to that affect. I wondered if it was even truer with the younger children.
“This is a very large Amish settlement, isn’t it?” I spoke to both girls at once.
Mareena had the same auburn colored hair as Lucinda, but the locks poking out from beneath Cacey’s cap were dark brown, similar to her father’s. I imagined that their mother had probably been a red head and judging b
y her daughters’ pretty faces, was an attractive woman as well.
As a cop, I was no stranger to broken families and kids in bad circumstances, but a knot still formed in my throat when I thought about these three vivacious girls growing up without their mother. It made me even more determined to find out the circumstances of the house fire that had killed her.
Mareena answered my question proudly, “This is one of the biggest Amish community in Indiana.”
A slight hiccup of an accent was present in her speech making me feel a little bit as if I was traveling along the countryside in the Alps, instead of the American Midwest.
Lucinda tugged on my arm and pointed at a metal building on the hill to the left. “There’s Jotham Hochstetler’s store!” she exclaimed.
The building was white with a black roof and trim. The gravel parking lot in front was nearly full with a mixture of buggies and cars, along with a few of the large white vans that I’d become familiar with at Naomi’s wake. It was obviously a busy place and as we turned up the road that led to the store, I was excited at the opportunities that might arise to dig for information about the arsons. I was also strangely anxious at the thought of being surrounded by a whole new group of Amish. I had learned firsthand they didn’t like outsiders and they were all very good at keeping secrets.
As the beating of my heart increased, two buggies and a minivan approached us. Toby lifted his legs higher and arched his neck when we passed by the larger horses in their shiny leather harnesses.
“Hallo, Mareena. Hoe gatt het?” the woman driving the first buggy called out.
Mareena answered in English and I was once again puzzled at how they switched back and forth between English and their own form of German so effortlessly.
“I’m well, Mrs. Fisher. We’re just bringing in a few pies for the bakery.” And then, as if she had just remembered that I sat squeezed up against her, she added, “This is Serenity. She came to find out who is burning down the barns.” Mareena pointed her chin toward the woman and said, “That’s Joanna Fisher, the bishop’s wife.”
It took a lot of effort not to react to her words, but I somehow managed to keep my composure. “Nice to meet you,” I said.
Joanna pulled her horse to a stop, even though there was a buggy and a minivan full of beards and caps waiting behind her.
“It’s so very good to have you with us, Serenity. I do hope you’ll be able to get to the bottom of these horrible fires so we can sleep better at night.”
Joanna was younger than what I would have expected for a bishop’s wife. She was slim and fair haired with the oval face of an aristocrat. Her overt friendliness was surprising considering my past encounters with the Blood Rock Amish people, but I was also getting the definite vibe that Joanna was a gossip and enjoyed the bad news the same as the good.
I would have to watch my guard around such a woman, but she also might be the perfect person to sponge information from, too.
“I can promise you, I’ll give it my best.” I hesitated only a second after seeing a few faces peering out from the buggy and said, “Can we meet sometime to talk?”
Joanna grinned, “Why of course. I’m butchering a hog this afternoon, but tomorrow afternoon would be a fine time for you to come to the house for a visit.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you then,” I replied quickly, figuring the girls or Rowan could give me directions. Even if it was to my benefit, I still hated to keep everyone waiting in the road for us to finish our conversation.
“Until then, weltrusten!” Joanna clucked the chestnut horse and it surged forward.
Lucinda leaned in and said, “That means goodbye.”
The inhabitants of the other buggy and the minivan stuck their hands out the windows to wave at us when they finally got on their way and I couldn’t help but admire them all for their patience. In the city, such a delay would have had horns blowing and obscenities ringing in the air.
“So, does the entire community know about why I’m here?” I asked Mareena, already guessing the answer.
She shrugged. “Everyone’s been talking about it.”
I had to give the girl credit. She had a level head and wasn’t going to willingly say too much on the matter. I guess Daniel had been right after all. The teens did seem to have the loosest lips in the Amish world.
Once we parked and Toby was tied to one of the many hitching rails provided for the Amish customers, I climbed down from the cart with Cacey in my arms and gently deposited her on the ground. The melting snow was splashing down in long, thin streams from the eaves of the building and I had to duck quickly to get to the walkway without getting wet. I unzipped my jacket and pulled off my gloves. The warm-up was a pleasant surprise.
“Here, let me carry one of those boxes for you,” I offered Mareena.
She paused long enough for me to scoop the top two from the stack in her arms and then continued toward the doorway.
“Chores took longer than usual today, so we’re running late. Jotham likes to have the pies on the shelves earlier than this,” Mareena explained.
“And you slept past eight!” Lucinda added delightedly.
Mareena turned and frowned at her little sister. “I did not.”
Lucinda giggled and half covered her mouth in my direction. “Yes she did,” she whispered loudly.
I peeked into the corner of the top box that I carried and got a delicious whiff of baked apples, cinnamon and sugar.
“You made these, Mareena?”
“I helped,” Lucinda exclaimed at the same time that Mareena nodded her head.
Mareena looked over her shoulder and said, “Jotham pays me four dollars a pie. I try to bake six fresh ones every Thursday morning.”
As we stepped into the store, I couldn’t help but think that Mareena had a pretty lucrative side business going. Cacey ran ahead of us and I fought the impulse to call the child back as I took in the sights and sounds of what I could only describe as the Amish equivalent to a mall.
One side of the building was a bakery, deli, and restaurant, and the other was filled with shelves brimming with every kind of grocery item. There was even a stairway leading to an open second story that boasted an array of wooden furniture and a wall crammed with bolts of colorful fabrics.
“This is a little more than just a store, Mareena,” I commented, sniffing the wonderful smells of baking bread and frying chicken.
Mareena smiled proudly. “Have you ever had Amish cooking before?”
I caught sight of Cacey again as she darted around a cluster of Amish women who were chatting in front of a candle display. “I ate dinner at my community’s schoolhouse dinner a couple months ago.”
“Did you like it?” Lucinda looked up expectantly.
I smiled. “It was the best meal I think I’ve ever had.”
Both Mareena and Lucinda beamed at my words. The girls were not only very well behaved, but they were both more mature than ordinary kids their age. I was impressed with the work ethic that they exhibited while they were doing their chores, and also that Mareena had her own little pie baking business. When I was twelve, I was still playing with stuffed animals and my mother had to chase me around with a broom just to get me to make my bed. Even though those times were all in good fun, I still had been a relatively lazy child.
With growing admiration for the Amish children, I said, “How would you girls like to have lunch here? It’s my treat.”
“Oh, yes!” Lucinda nearly shouted.
Mareena was more reserved, but there was a twinkle in her eyes when she said, “Thank you. That would be nice.”
Every woman we passed by smiled and said hello in some fashion. Outwardly, the men ignored me for the most part, but I did catch a few of them glancing my way as we walked by. The same as the Blood Rock community, these men were careful not to show too much curiosity towards a new fe
male. But they had definitely noticed me.
“Sorry we’re running a little late, Jotham. We had a busy morning,” Mareena rushed the words out.
Jotham was of medium height and would have been considered an attractive man, except that one entire side of his face was covered with leathery, red scarring. His hair line was receded with the scarring and he didn’t have any eyebrows or lashes on that side either. The eye that stared out from the mangled tissue was glass, but his other was a piercing light blue that drew my attention even more than his fake one. He was also holding Cacey in his arms and the little girl who hadn’t spoken a word after she’d gotten into the buggy was now chatting up a storm to him in her language. My initial appraisal of her as a shy child evaporated as I listened to her excited chatter to a man whose face would have scared most kids.
Jotham laughed heartily and said something to Cacey before he set her down on the floor. She squealed in delight and ran behind the counter where I watched her pick out a large, white iced donut from the display.
“Mareena and Lucinda, please take the pies to the table near the registers.” When the girls lingered, he added, “Mach schnell!”
I gave my boxes to Lucinda and stepped back while they hurried away toward the front of the building. I recognized Jotham’s intent to put the girls out of eavesdropping range and turned to the Amish man with pulsating curiosity.
He held out his hand. “I am Jotham Hochstetler. You must be the police officer.”
I grasped his hand and said, “Serenity Adams. Do I look that much like a cop to you?”
Jotham smiled with his ruined face and glanced away. His unmarred cheek had turned almost as red as the scarred side and I decided that I liked the man in that instant.
“No. You look nothing like a cop to me. But I am at an advantage. Rowan described you on his return from Blood Rock.”
Whispers from the Dead (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 2) Page 4
