“Get in. I’ll give you a ride.”
Lloyd was her age, the same age Jeremiah had been. Jeremiah had been a regular-looking guy—certainly not ugly, but nothing to write home about either. It was his personality, his energy, that had been so appealing. Lloyd, on the other hand, had unusually good looks. He could be a cover model for an Amish romance novel—blond hair, blue eyes, tall, broad-shouldered, and muscled up from having worked on a farm all of his life.
“Hi, Lloyd. Actually, I’m walking to the bakery so I can pick flowers for the tables.”
“Looks like you have plenty.”
Naomi glanced down at her basket. It was true. She’d collected more than she needed, but she’d been enjoying the walk and the quiet. Still, she didn’t want to seem rude, so she climbed into the buggy and placed the basket on the floor.
“Mary and Chester let you use their horse and buggy?”
“I didn’t actually ask.” When he saw the look on her face, he shrugged. “They’re old, Naomi. They rarely go anywhere.”
“It’s proper to ask.”
“Chester was already in the fields when I left, and Mary was in the kitchen. I doubt they even realize they’re gone.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she changed the subject. “How has your visit been?”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. I’m going back to Goshen soon, and I want you to go with me.”
“What?” The word came out at a higher pitch than she’d intended. Naomi swallowed, lowered her voice, and said, “Why would I do that? I live here.”
“You live here now, but you have family in Goshen.”
“I have family here too—my Aenti Abigail and Onkel Daniel. Plus, there’s my cousin Sam.”
“It’s hardly even a community.”
Which was true, so she didn’t argue with him. She did feel mildly defensive. Who was he to judge their community, to look down his nose at it? Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and her mouth went suddenly dry, but she didn’t rise to the bait. They were nearly to the bakery, and she could be done with Lloyd Yutzy.
“Why would you want to stay here?” he asked more softly.
“I don’t know. It’s beautiful. I like it.”
The mare clomped along the road. That and the sound of the buggy wheels against pavement helped to fill the awkward silence. They’d entered the outskirts of town, and she tried to see the area as Lloyd must see it. Monte Vista was a rural community, with little to do, and a relatively small group of Amish families. On the plus side, the local stores had what they needed, and everyone got along well.
At least everyone except for Jeremiah and his killer.
“I think you should come back.”
“Perhaps I will come to visit sometime, but for now the widows need me in the bakery.”
Lloyd’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t speak again until he’d pulled into the parking lot of Bread 2 Go. Already it was filled with customers’ vehicles, which made Naomi proud. She didn’t begin her day as early as the widows, who came to work before the sun was up. By the time she arrived, they were usually at the height of their rush hour, and today looked like no exception.
“I’d best be going.” She reached for the handle of the buggy’s door, but Lloyd grasped her other hand. She looked down at his fingers encircling her wrist, surprised that he would take such liberties. “Lloyd. You’re hurting me.”
He let go, set the brake on the buggy, and turned to look directly at her. “Maybe you don’t understand what I’m saying. I want you to come back to Goshen with me. I want to court you, and I can’t do it when you’re here.”
“That’s very sweet, but—”
“Think about it, Naomi. Think about it before you say no.” And then he dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
She snatched up her basket of flowers, practically jumped out of the buggy, and hurried into the restaurant. A line of customers greeted her, most by name, as she made her way toward the back of the store.
“Are you okay?” Nancy asked. “You look rather frazzled.”
“Ya, fine, I guess.” She put her purse on the shelf where they kept personal items and moved over to the counter where the small glass vases were awaiting her flowers.
“How is Ruth?” she asked when Franey came into the room to retrieve another tray of cinnamon rolls.
“Gut. She wanted to come back to work today, but Nancy talked her into waiting until Monday.”
“Ya, probably she needs a little time off.”
“Her son and his wife already left,” Nancy said as she popped another tray of bread into the oven. “I think she gets a little lonely at her place.”
“Was that Lloyd Yutzy who dropped you off?” Franey asked, standing next to her and helping with the flowers.
“It was. He just… appeared out of nowhere, slowed down his buggy—or rather Chester’s buggy—and told me to get in.”
“You don’t have to accept every ride you’re offered, you know.” Apparently realizing how gruff that sounded, Franey touched her on the shoulder and added, “I only mean that it’s okay to say no if it’s someone you’d rather not ride with.”
Those words bounced round and round Naomi’s mind as she carried the tray of flowers out into the dining area and began placing a vase on each table.
Was Lloyd someone she’d rather not ride with?
Why did his ways irritate her so much?
Or maybe it was simply that she’d rather be alone right now.
That felt more accurate. She’d always been a bit of a loner, and she needed time to process Jeremiah’s death. Though she’d suspected they were growing apart, she would miss him. She certainly wasn’t ready to begin stepping out with someone else, and she had absolutely no intention of moving back to Goshen, Indiana. As she went about her work, she became more convinced that Lloyd had simply jumped to the wrong conclusion. Maybe she’d smiled at him at the funeral, or maybe he was remembering the times they’d attended singings together in Goshen.
She’d been a young girl then, but she now felt like a much older, much more experienced woman. She’d been through the death of a friend. She had a job. She had a life she liked here in the valley. Lloyd wasn’t unusual in thinking she would drop everything and join him thirteen hundred miles to the east. She knew it was that far because she’d taken the bus to visit, and the ride had seemed to last forever.
Amish boys often thought Amish girls were just waiting around to be swept off their feet. She supposed the same might be true of Englischers. She couldn’t really say. But she did know Lloyd would have to learn to take no for an answer. It wouldn’t break his heart. She suspected many girls in Goshen would be interested in courting him. He’d just have to set his sights on someone else.
Twenty-Six
Henry was late getting home that evening. He’d gone to town to pick up more dog food for Lexi. Then he’d visited Ruth, who seemed to be doing all right, though of course she was still grieving. Henry knew it would take time for the despair to work its way from her heart. Fortunately, Emma’s grandsons were there, repotting the flowers the goats had torn out and helping Ruth with her garden. Everyone seemed to be getting on well, so he promised to visit again toward the weekend and climbed back into the buggy with Lexi.
Sometimes he took her with him, and other times he didn’t.
Today she rode on the box he kept for her in the back of the buggy. She preferred that he set it in the front passenger seat, which he’d done, and she liked to sit up on it, looking out the window. Well, who didn’t enjoy looking out the window on a beautiful summer day?
Though it was nearly dinnertime, he’d decided to stop by and check on Mary and Chester Yoder. They’d insisted he stay for a meal. He carried a little extra dog food in the buggy for just such situations, so he excused himself, fed his dog, and Mary brought out a little dish of water. Full and more than a little sleepy, Lexi waited patiently on the porch while Henry enjoyed Mary’s delicious coo
king.
She’d made chicken casserole filled with carrots, potatoes, celery, and peas. The entire thing was, of course, topped with cheese. The casserole would have been plenty, but she’d heated some leftover potato and vegetable scones to go with it, and for dessert she served shoofly pie. Henry insisted on only a small piece. His buttons already felt as if they were about to pop.
“I heard Lloyd Yutzy is staying with you. Is he still here?” he’d finally asked.
“Ya, I suppose he is.” Mary jumped up to refill his coffee cup.
“You suppose?”
“We don’t really know what the boy is up to.” Chester sat back and pushed his plate away. He reached out to brush a crumb off the table and finally added, “To be honest, we don’t really know why he’s here, although he said it was for the rodeo.”
“How did it come about that he ended up staying with you?”
“He left a message at the phone shack.” Mary set the coffeepot back on the stove and then sat down across from him. “I was surprised, because though I was friends with his parents, I never really knew Lloyd that well. He was still quite young when we lived in Goshen. But it seemed only polite to offer him a place to stay, and we had the room.”
“So he came down for the rodeo, not the funeral?”
“Ya, that’s what he said.” Mary ran a thumbnail across the tablecloth, scratching at a small stain. “He came before the funeral. Came on…”
“A week ago,” Chester said. “He’s been here a week, arrived the day before the rodeo—the day before Jeremiah was shot. And I don’t mind saying it’s time for him to go back now.”
Henry let that sit between them for a moment.
When neither Chester nor Mary spoke, Henry asked, “Would you like me to have a word with him?”
“Not necessary,” Chester said. “He’s barely unpacked his things—though the clothes he wears are scattered across the room. The rest of his bag… well, he hasn’t unpacked it that I can tell. I suspect he’ll be gone in a few more days. Not much to keep him here that I can see.”
“Where is he now?”
Mary shrugged, and Chester pretended to be interested in something outside the window.
Finally Henry accepted that they weren’t going to share any additional details about the ways of Lloyd Yutzy. Because the lad was leaving, it wasn’t really his place to question or correct him about his manners. Perhaps he’d send a letter to the Goshen bishop, suggesting he meet with Lloyd and counsel him about showing respect to elders, especially those you were asking favors from.
The sun was beginning to set by the time he headed home. He was nearly to his lane when he noticed the bright lights of a police cruiser on the side of the road. Oreo shied from the blinking lights, but Henry held the reins firmly and directed her off the pavement and onto the grassy shoulder well behind the police vehicle.
“Stay, Lexi.” He jumped out of the buggy and hurried up to the accident.
Seth Hoschstetler was speaking to Officer Moore, who seemed to be taking down his statement.
Seth’s wife, Roseann, was sitting in the police cruiser, the door open and an ice pack pressed to her forehead.
Henry wanted to know what Seth was saying in his statement, but he needed to check on Roseann first.
“Is everyone okay?” He squatted down in front of Roseann.
“Henry. I didn’t realize you were here.” She smiled slightly and then winced. She pushed the ice pack more firmly against her head.
“Can I… ” He gestured toward the ice pack, and Roseann nodded once, allowing her hand to slip down and into her lap.
He held the cool first aid compress against her skin. In the strobe of the police vehicle’s lights he could read the words Instant Cold Pack. Finally he dared to pull it away.
“You’ve a goose egg here.”
“I was turning toward the window when it all happened. It’s a bump, is all.”
“Having any dizziness?”
“Same question the police officer asked me, and the answer is no.” She laughed. “I’m feeling a bit feisty because he wants me to go to the hospital, and I want to go home.”
“Would you like me to have a word with him?”
“Danki.”
“Gem gschehne.”
He made sure she’d reapplied the ice pack before he stepped away. Lexi looked as if she was on point, standing on her box in the buggy. He thought he heard a whine coming from her, but she’d have to wait. More pressing matters and all.
Seth’s horse was cropping weeds on the side of the road, down in the ditch where the buggy had come to rest. The hitch between the buggy and the horse was clearly broken, and the buggy sat at a lopsided angle. No doubt there was also damage where the wheel attached to the buggy.
“Officer. Seth.”
Both men looked up as if surprised to find him there.
“How did this happen?”
“Fool in a pickup truck ran me off the road, that’s how it happened. Pulling a horse trailer, if you can imagine that. At least there weren’t any horses in it at the time—not that I had a chance to see much before he sped away.”
“Wouldn’t be our first hit-and-run accident, though it’s the first auto-buggy incident since I’ve been here.” Officer Moore closed his notebook and stuck it back into his pocket. “Unfortunately, the vehicle you’ve described sounds pretty standard for these parts. We’ll do our best, though. If he’s from around here and hasn’t already left the valley, we at least have a chance of finding him.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t notice the license plate. It all happened pretty quickly.”
“Most people don’t. I’m going to call this in and then check on your wife.”
Which reminded Henry of his promise to Roseann. “She’d rather not go to the hospital.”
“Standard procedure. An ambulance is already on the way.”
“If the paramedics find her vitals are good and no signs of a concussion, would you release her to Seth? They live right there.” Henry pointed to the farm across the road. “And I’m next door if they need anything.”
“Can’t require anyone to go to the hospital, but trust me, you don’t want to mess around with head injuries.”
“She’s a stubborn woman,” Seth cautioned.
“And she seemed quite aware of what had happened.” Henry pulled off his hat and turned it in his hands. “I don’t think there’s a concussion. Plus, she’ll rest better in her own home.”
“Are Amish folk always this bullheaded?” Moore asked, but then he held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. I think I know what you’re going to say.”
Someone on the radio alerted him that the ambulance’s ETA was two minutes. Moore walked away to speak to the dispatcher and check on Roseann.
“Give me the short version of what happened.”
“Someone ran me off the road.”
“You think it was intentional?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Because?”
“He sped up, waited until he was beside me and Cocoa was tossing her head like wild, and then he pushed into our lane. There’s no doubt in my mind at all that it was intentional.”
“And the description of the vehicle?”
“Battered pickup. The strangest thing was that the fool had a horse trailer attached. Who would do such a thing while pulling a trailer?”
“No animals in it?”
“Not that I could see.”
“And you didn’t get a look at the driver?”
“Too busy trying to maintain control of my own horse.”
“I’m sorry this happened to you.”
“Not your fault.”
“It’s rare for us to have this sort of trouble.”
“No worries, Henry. We don’t regret our decision to move here.”
The response pleased Henry. They were a small community and needed new members to thrive. They needed members like Seth and Roseann, who were good, hardworking, faithful people. “We
’ll hitch your horse to the back of my buggy, and I’ll give you a ride home.”
“What of my buggy?”
“Hitch is broken. You can call someone out to fix it tomorrow.”
Seth nodded in agreement.
Then it was only a matter of waiting for Officer Moore to finish his paperwork and clear Roseann. Seth went off to speak with the officer, and Henry remained near the broken buggy and grazing horse. He pulled on his beard and looked out over the road, as if he could discover some clue as to what had happened and why it had occurred. But all he saw was the desert floor and a sky darkening as night slipped across the valley.
Twenty-Seven
Emma was having trouble grasping what Henry was telling her. Accidents happened—sure and certain they did. But someone intentionally running Seth Hoschstetler off the road? That made no sense. “Should I go and visit Roseann?”
“I checked on her only an hour ago,” Henry said, assuring her.
“Still, it might be better for a woman to go by.”
“All right, but not until you’ve had coffee and some of those cookies with me.”
They traipsed into the house, where Henry set the coffee to heating while Emma pulled out two cups and the milk from the refrigerator. She liked how easily they did things together—simple things like pulling together a midmorning snack. She liked how the silence between them was comfortable.
Once they were sitting at the table, she noticed Henry seemed disarmingly chipper—especially for someone describing an accident.
“Why are you grinning at me, Henry?”
“I was just thinking that by this time next month we’ll be wed.”
“The weeks are flying by.”
“Would you slow them down?”
“I would not.” Emma broke off a piece of cookie. Why she bothered pretending she wasn’t going to eat a whole one, she couldn’t say. Maybe it was as she’d read on a sign at the widows’ bakery—“Free cookie pieces. No calories.” If only that were true, she could enjoy the snack and stop worrying about her waistline. Why was she worried anyway? She wasn’t a nineteen-year-old bride, and Henry seemed to love her exactly as she was.
That contented thought calmed her nerves for a moment, but only a moment. “It’s only that I feel like a storm is brewing.”
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