When they walked into the hospital emergency room, Ruth looked around as if she were momentarily lost. Running her fingertips across her forehead, she said, “Do you think there’s a phone? I should call Clara and Gideon.”
“I can do that for you.” Henry had taken off his hat and held it calmly in his hands.
Emma realized in that moment how much she loved the man standing in front of her. They’d rescheduled their wedding for August, and she had every intention of keeping that date. Henry was kind, compassionate, and wise in the way of one who had suffered much. She adored him as a friend and wanted to be his wife, his helpmate. Their entire family was looking forward to the union, and Clyde and Silas were working on a dawdi haus, complete with a new workshop for Henry.
All those thoughts, those happy images, passed through her mind as they stood waiting on Ruth’s answer.
“Nein. I’ll call them. It should be me. Jeremiah—” Her voice caught on the name, but she pulled in a deep breath and pushed on. “Jeremiah came to spend the summer with me, to help me…”
“You can’t blame yourself for this,” Henry said.
“I don’t. Truly I don’t. I think I’m in shock.” Her hand went to the top of her head and she tugged her prayer kapp more firmly into place, pulling out one of the bobby pins and replacing it. “He was here to see me through the summer, to help me with the crops, and now he’s gone. I should be the one to tell his parents.”
“Can I get you anything?” Emma asked.
“Coffee. Coffee would be good. I suspect we have a long night ahead.” She turned to go but then pivoted back. “Thank you. Thank you both for staying with me.”
And before they could answer, she was gone.
They followed the signs to the vending machines and waited for the coffee to drip into a paper cup.
“How can this be happening, Henry?”
“It’s a shock.”
“Why would someone kill him? And in front of a crowd?”
“I can’t begin to fathom a reason.”
“What did Grayson say to you after he questioned Ruth?”
“Not much. But he said it was a rifle. It had to be a rifle.”
“Silas and Clyde said the same thing.”
“Maybe someone saw something.” Henry offered to purchase her a cup of coffee, but she settled for a bottle of water. The last thing she needed was jangly nerves.
“But you didn’t see anything?”
“Nein. I was getting our dinner.”
“I suppose that’s something of a relief to you.” When Henry looked at her quizzically, she pushed on. “You didn’t want to be involved with Betsy’s murder back in Goshen.”
“Indeed I didn’t.”
“You certainly had no intention of tangling with Vernon Frey’s killer.”
“Glad to have that behind us.”
“And who would have ever imagined that we’d both end up stalked by Sophia’s murderer?”
“My life, our lives, have taken some strange turns, it’s true.”
“And yet Gotte used you during those times.” They walked slowly back to the waiting room and sat down in a corner where they wouldn’t be disturbed and could watch for Ruth. “It’s interesting that at a time when you’ve learned to embrace your gift—”
“Thanks largely to your encouragement.”
“Something happens where you can’t use it at all.”
Emma sipped from her bottle and then offered it to Henry. He waved away the offer, but he turned his gaze to her, studied her a moment, and then said, “My gift—this strange talent I have—it’s a blessing. I understand that now, but you are a bigger blessing, Emma Fisher. Your friendship, and now your love, mean more to me than my ability to draw what I can’t remember.”
Emma didn’t know how to answer that, but Henry’s words eased the trouble ricocheting through her heart. There was no way to know what this was about or what lay ahead of them, but she knew they’d make it through together. They’d done so in the past, and they would in the future. That was the confidence and trust God had built in her heart over the last year, and she would hold firm to it as they ministered to Ruth, Jeremiah’s parents, and anyone else in their congregation who needed special attention.
It was a bishop’s job to guide members of the church through both happy times and sad. Emma trusted that the former waited for them, and that it was only a matter of getting through this present darkness to the light beyond.
Five
Naomi Miller searched for her best friend, Katie Ann, and finally spotted her at the top of the bleachers with her two younger brothers.
Katie Ann pulled her into a hug and then tugged her a few feet away from Stephen and Thomas, who were now watching the lights of the carnival rides set up at one end of the Stampede’s parking lot—a carousel, bumper cars, a flying scooter, a kamikaze, a tilt-a-whirl, and of course the Ferris wheel.
Naomi was supposed to be riding those… with Jeremiah. He’d promised that after the rodeo, after he won, he’d buy all the carnival coupons she could spend. He’d laughed when he said that and slung an arm around her shoulder.
“Where have you been?” Katie Ann held her at arm’s length and studied her face. “I was so worried.”
“I was with the other girlfriends, down near the chutes. The police wouldn’t let me leave. I told them I had to find my family, had to find you. It’s not as if I could have left the arena. All the exits are blocked. Finally they agreed after taking down my name and address.”
“Are you okay?” Katie Ann asked.
“I don’t know. It hardly seems real.”
“When did you last talk to him?”
“This afternoon.”
“And your aenti and onkel aren’t here tonight?”
One violent shake of Naomi’s head, and then tears began to pour down her cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, Naomi. I know you cared about Jeremiah.”
“I did, but… Oh, it doesn’t matter now, does it? He’s gone, and we’ll never know. Maybe I should have… maybe if I had… he could still be.… ”
“Don’t do that to yourself.”
Katie Ann gave her a few minutes to calm herself—clasping her hand and sitting beside her, not saying a word. That was one of the things Naomi dearly loved about her friend. She didn’t push, and she didn’t judge. Naomi didn’t judge Katie Ann for choosing to be a veterinarian’s assistant, a quite unusual job—unusual for an Amish girl, at least. And Katie Ann didn’t judge her for keeping her nose in a book, for pausing to write down a phrase that came to her mind, for courting someone her aenti had never approved of.
Which didn’t matter now. She’d wanted to clasp her hands over her ears when Jeremiah’s grandmother had begun to wail. She’d stared on in disbelief as Henry and Emma had comforted Ruth and then led her to the police cruiser.
Naomi scrubbed her cheeks dry, noticing they felt hot and chapped. “Maybe I should talk to someone, tell them what Jeremiah’s plans were. I’m not sure he shared them with anyone else.”
“Ya. Gut idea, but who?”
“The police?”
“I don’t know. Maybe…”
They sat there a moment, staring at the aftermath of what could have been a natural disaster, only it wasn’t. This tragedy had been conceived and implemented by an evil person. Naomi couldn’t imagine who would do such a thing, or what could possibly be a strong enough motivation for taking another life.
Most of the people had returned to the stands and were clustered in small groups.
Some of the children were crying, no doubt not understanding what had happened or why they couldn’t go home.
Parents looked concerned—Amish and Englisch alike.
Jeremiah’s body was still lying where he’d fallen. Giant floodlights had been brought in. Even brighter than the arena lights, they were set up around Jeremiah, and someone was photographing his body from various angles. What could they possibly tell from that? It seemed to Naomi t
hat they were wasting time, that they should be out looking for the person who had done this.
And in that moment her resolve hardened. It didn’t matter that she had continued being Jeremiah’s friend despite her aenti’s warnings that such a relationship would only lead to trouble. It didn’t matter at all what people thought of her. What mattered was that she might be able to shed a little bit of light on what happened.
“I’m going to do it. I’m going to go and talk to that officer down there.”
Katie Ann reached out and snagged her arm. “I’ll go with you. If you’re sure you want to. But maybe… maybe it would be a better idea to talk to Henry. After all, it’s not like you saw the person or have a clue as to who he or she is.”
“They’ll be looking into Jeremiah’s life, though. Looking for clues, like your mammi did with the Monte Vista arsonist.”
Katie Ann visibly flinched, but she didn’t deny it. Everyone in their community knew about Henry and Emma’s involvement in catching not one but two murderers. Naomi had even heard some of the youngies refer to them as a Plain Holmes and Watson. Naomi hadn’t known what that meant until someone showed her a video clip of the movie Sherlock Holmes on their phone.
“I owe it to Jeremiah to try to help catch whoever did this.”
Katie Ann kept her eyes on her brothers while she considered Naomi’s words.
“I guess you’re right.”
“You know I am.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“His plans. What he was going to do after tonight. His crazy scheme to run off and—”
“Ya, but I’m not sure how that will help. What Jeremiah was planning to do next…it didn’t happen. So how can someone’s plans shed light on what has happened? How can it reveal anything about the person who killed him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you think of anything else?”
“Nein.”
“Anyone he argued with recently?”
“Nothing like that.”
“Anything at all?”
“If you’re asking me if I know who could have killed him, the answer is no.”
“No enemies you know of?”
“Jeremiah had secrets. And we’d only been courting since summer began. Even that had become… well, awkward. And now… now… Oh, Katie Ann, I’m going to wake up tomorrow and find I’ve dreamed all of this, that it was a horrible, terrible nightmare.”
Katie Ann scooted closer to Naomi and pulled her hands into her lap, their shoulders touching and Naomi’s cheek resting against Katie Ann’s kapp. The presence of her friend helped. She wasn’t in this alone, whatever this was. Together they would figure it out. Together they would go to Henry and then to the police.
Somehow they would navigate a way through this terrible nightmare.
But Naomi understood, as she watched the officers walk up and down the stands handing out statement forms and pens, that this wasn’t a dream. This was real, and she wouldn’t wake up to find her life as it had been a few hours before.
Six
Ruth returned to the waiting room, her cheeks flushed from crying, her eyes red and swollen, but more in control of herself. She’d slipped into the role of parent, of the eldest in her family, and now she would focus on taking care of the others. Her own grief would be pushed aside. Emma knew all of this at a glance, maybe because she’d been through the same thing when her husband died.
“Did you have to leave a message?” Emma asked.
“Nein. They have a phone out in the barn—something Gideon didn’t want, but Clara insisted on because he was having to walk to the phone shack several times a day.” Ruth glanced from Emma to Henry.
“I may have told you my son is an auctioneer now,” she explained. “He took it up after he hurt his back farming. He’s quite good at it, but it does require quite a bit of communication to set up each auction.”
“Did you reach them on the phone?”
“Jeremiah’s sister answered. She fetched both Clara and Gideon.” Ruth closed her eyes, taking a moment to allow a wave of grief to wash over her. A shudder and a deep breath, and then she opened her eyes and continued. “They’ll make arrangements to come here on the bus from Goshen.”
“I’m sure their bishop would allow them to fly,” Henry said.
“I suggested as much, but Gideon wouldn’t hear of it. He’s quite conservative.” Ruth laughed, but there was no amusement in it. “He still fusses about the phone, though of course it’s allowed for business.”
“How did they take the news?” Emma asked, because it seemed that Ruth wanted to say more.
“Clara was beside herself, alternately weeping and questioning me… as if I might have the wrong Jeremiah in mind.”
“And Gideon?” Emma knew a little of the problems Ruth had endured with her son.
“No emotion. Nothing, really. I think he’s in shock.”
“Let’s pray for them,” Henry said. “Pray for all involved.”
His voice seemed to calm Ruth, or perhaps it was God’s Holy Spirit, who was with them in their hour of grief.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted…” Henry murmured. “He saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Emma squeezed Ruth’s hand more tightly.
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
How she prayed it was so, that God would heal Ruth’s broken heart, that He would bind her wounds.
“Our flesh and heart may fail, but God is our strength.”
The words in the Psalms had been written so many years ago, and yet Emma felt their truth anew. It was true that their flesh and their heart would fail. This was part and parcel of being human, but God would never leave nor forsake them.
When Henry finished, Emma fetched Ruth another cup of coffee. The one they’d purchased had turned cold.
The three of them passed the next hour in silence. Henry found the remote for the television mounted in the corner of the waiting room. Because no one else was there and they certainly had no interest in watching it, he turned off the contraption. Emma tried to smile her thanks, but she was afraid it came out wobbly. In truth, her emotions were still all over the place. Though she’d barely known Jeremiah, the night’s events were dredging up memories she’d worked hard to forget, memories from those other murder investigations.
The hands on the clock were creeping toward ten in the evening, and the sky outside the hospital windows had long since turned dark, when Ruth began to talk.
“Jeremiah was having trouble in Goshen, you know. That’s why Gideon agreed to his coming here. My son… he’s nothing like his father. He’s nothing like me, if I were to be honest. I can’t begin to understand why he’s as unyielding as he is.”
“That must have been hard for you,” Henry said.
“Ya. It was a good reason for us to move. When we still lived there, I would have to watch him interact with the children, with my grandkinner, and it broke my heart. He was never abusive, but his attitude and his words left a mark nonetheless. I would try to talk to him, tell him to be less hard on the children—they have five. Four boys and a girl. Jeremiah was the youngest. I’d talk to Gideon, but those conversations never ended well. The last time Leon stepped in, Gideon became so upset he didn’t speak to us for a month. That was when we decided it would be better for the family if we didn’t live so close.”
Emma glanced at Henry. She was thinking about the Monte Vista arsonist, about his mental instability. She lowered her voice and asked as gently as possible, “Do you think Gideon might be suffering from depression or some other mental illness… like bipolar disorder?”
“Depression, maybe. What I know about bipolar, which is limited, is that people suffering from it have ups as well as downs. Gideon doesn’t seem to have ups. I’ve spent many hours praying on it. I could never figure out where we went wrong with that boy.”
“Now, Ruth, we are only responsible for raising our children in the
faith, with love and the wisdom we have. As to the twists and turns of Gideon’s life, you’re not held accountable for those.”
“I suppose.” Ruth offered a weak smile. “We decided we could be a better influence from a distance, and for a time it seemed we were. Gideon was less volatile to suggestions we put in letters, possibly because he had time to process them. Or maybe he was maturing. At least, that’s what I thought.”
“I remember he couldn’t make it for Leon’s funeral.”
“Ya, it’s true, though he did ask me to come back and live with them, but by that time I’d fallen in love with the valley and with this community.” She squeezed Emma’s hand before standing and pacing over to the window.
“Maybe because Jeremiah was the youngest of the grandkinner, Gideon held on even tighter than usual. The other three boys all eventually left Goshen.”
“The boys left because of their father?” Henry asked.
“I think so.” Ruth ran her fingers up and down the strings of her prayer kapp. “They would never speak disrespectfully of Gideon, but their letters to me… well, what they don’t say is as telling as what they do.”
Emma couldn’t imagine her son moving away from her, not wanting to be close.
“How does your granddaughter handle it?”
“Lydia was relieved when the boys moved away.” Ruth returned to sit across from them. The rows of chairs were so close together their knees practically touched. “Oh, she missed her brothers. Don’t get me wrong, but she thought they’d be happier if there was distance between them and their father. She still lives on her parents’ farm with her husband, but in a separate house they built on the property. Perhaps that little bit of privacy helps.”
Henry sat forward, his elbows propped on his knees and his fingers laced together. “You said there was trouble with Jeremiah?”
“Nothing with the law, not like that. But he didn’t want to join the church.”
“I spoke with him about it as well. He seemed open to the idea, only not yet.” Henry sighed.
Who the Bishop Knows Page 3
