“Past dinnertime for both of you.”
“Yes, past dinnertime.”
Seth held up a sack he’d set on the bench when he walked in. “Roseann sent this over.”
“Is it what I think it is?”
“Chicken potpie, bread, squash casserole, and dessert.”
“Sounds delicious, especially with a fresh cup of coffee.”
Henry picked up the stack of drawings, and Seth carried the bag of food. They didn’t speak as they walked the short distance from the workshop to the house. Darkness had fallen, which meant it was nearing nine in the evening, and they had church the next morning. He’d been foolish to become so caught up in what he was doing, and he’d pay for it when he had to get up before sunrise.
He set the drawings on the table, went straight to the dog food bin, and scooped out Lexi’s dinner—adding a little extra to ease his own conscience. She fell on it as though she hadn’t eaten for days. Well, he was late. Had she tried to get his attention? He couldn’t remember.
Seth sat quietly at the table as Henry set a fresh pot of coffee to boiling on the stove.
“Won’t that keep you awake?” Seth asked.
“It’s decaf.”
Henry pulled out the containers of food, offered some to Seth, who shook his head, and set out mugs for their coffee. “At least have some of the pie.”
“Ya, all right. It’s blueberry.”
“One of my favorites.”
“Mine too.” And with that they seemed to settle upon a comfortable footing again. They enjoyed the pie and the coffee. When Henry refilled their cups, he finally broached the subject of the drawings.
“I realize it might have been startling to see those drawings.”
“Ya. I suppose it was.” Seth sat back and studied him over his raised coffee mug. Finally, he set it down on the table and said, “You told us before, but I don’t think I fully appreciated what you were talking about. Can you explain to me how it works?”
“I can try. My mind seems to record everything I see. Which isn’t a problem because I don’t actually remember it all. Some of the doctors theorized that everyone’s mind does what mine does, but none of us is aware. We don’t realize the ability inside of us until something happens, something like my accident with the baseball.”
“Which happened many years ago.”
“When I was twelve.”
“Do you decide what you’re going to draw?”
“Maybe the general idea, but I don’t know what’s going to come out—what came out—until later. I don’t… I’m not completely aware of what I’m drawing even as I draw it.”
“Or that you’re hungry or tired.”
“No. I’m not conscious of that either.”
“Those drawings have a lot of detail, and they were all centered around the rodeo.”
“I met with Clyde and Abe and Leroy yesterday. They suggested, as Emma had, that I at least try drawing the events of that night, the night Jeremiah died.”
“What did you hope to find?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re looking for the killer.”
“I’m looking for a clue, anything I can give the police that might help them.”
“We could study them together.”
Henry’s fatigue fell away. “Yes. Yes, that’s a good idea. Let’s take a look.”
As the darkness deepened across the valley, Henry and Seth pored over his drawings. “These are remarkable, Henry, but I don’t see any clues as to Jeremiah’s killer.”
“I agree.”
“You captured the reaction of those in the stands.”
“Quite a few people.”
“Nearly all of Monte Vista from the looks of it.”
“You weren’t there?” Henry asked.
“Nein. We’d thought about it, but then Roseann came down with a headache. I was tired and ready to put my feet up, maybe read through the Budget.”
“You’ve been working hard to get the place into shape.”
Seth nodded and tapped the stack of drawings. “It was good of you to try.”
“Not sure I’m finished.”
“Hopefully you are for the night.”
“Ya. Indeed.”
Henry rinsed out the now-empty dishes Roseann had sent over. “Thank your wife for me.”
“I will.”
“And convey my apologies.”
“No need at all. I can see how you could immerse yourself in such a thing and forget all that’s going on around you.”
As Henry prepared for bed, he thought about that. The ability to focus was a good thing, but he’d forgotten to feed Lexi, feed himself, go to his neighbor’s. Even now he felt the urge to go back to the table and draw more. Their community was being pulled into a dark situation, and he didn’t want that. He didn’t believe it was God’s intention for them to be preoccupied with such things.
In other words, he wanted this latest incident solved. He wanted the investigation over. He wanted his community to return to their simple life.
“Might not be up to us, though.”
Lexi had no answer for that.
“Perhaps God is teaching us patience.”
Lexi stretched and yawned.
“Could be that we’ll learn to trust His providence and wisdom even more.”
Lexi flopped over onto her side at the foot of Henry’s bed.
“Still… if I could hit on the right thing and find a clue, perhaps it would move Grayson in the right direction. Tomorrow afternoon we’ll try once more. We could carry the alarm clock over to the workshop so I don’t get carried away again.”
But Lexi’s stomach was full. She’d forgotten Henry’s earlier transgression and certainly wasn’t worried about tomorrow’s meals. She was content, and Henry understood there were some things that he, a sixty-six-year-old bishop, could learn from one of God’s smaller creations.
Thirty-Six
Naomi and Silas had gone in search of Katie Ann, but it took them a while to find her. They were stopped several times by people in their group. When they asked about Katie Ann, they were told she was still back with the horses. They searched each stall but found no sign of her.
Finally, they went out the back door and surveyed the pens attached to the back of the barn.
“She’s over there—in the pigpen.” Silas laughed as he said it. Obviously, he was used to his sister’s love of animals.
Katie Ann was squatting inside the pigpen, though at least she wasn’t in the mud. It didn’t surprise Naomi at all that Albert was nearby. He’d been sending her clear signs of interest during the meeting, but Katie Ann hadn’t noticed.
“We thought you were checking on the horses,” Naomi said.
Katie Ann glanced up and waved. “I was, but then I heard these little guys.”
“She’s fussing over a sow,” Albert explained. “She seems to have recently given birth to eight piglets.”
A battery-powered lantern sat between Katie Ann and Albert, who was watching her as if he’d spotted the moon for the first time.
“Naomi thinks she knows where Jeremiah stashed the money.” Silas blurted it out as soon as they were sure no one else was around. They’d decided, the two of them, not to involve anyone but Katie Ann, and now Albert as well, as he seemed determined to be by her side for the evening.
Both Albert and Katie Ann stared at Naomi as if she were wearing a polka-dotted kapp on her head.
“You know where the money is?” Katie Ann asked.
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Albert stood and dusted off his hands.
“And where is it?”
“And can we get it now?”
“Slow down.” Silas laughed when the piglet Katie Ann was holding wormed its way into the crook of her arm. “Put the piglet down, and we’ll explain.”
Naomi could still hear the music from the transistor radio playing in the barn, the faintest strains of guitar and a woman singing, and if she wasn’
t mistaken, a fiddle. Jeremiah had loved country music. She’d always thought it was because of his interest in the rodeo. She’d wondered, even then, if he would decide he preferred Englisch things to Plain. She pushed the memory away and focused on explaining her revelation.
“Silas and I were outside, and we were talking, and then we turned to walk back into the barn.”
“And then I kissed her.” Silas grinned when she batted at his arm. “Well, I did, and I’m not ashamed of it.”
“I was so surprised I stopped thinking, and that’s when it popped into my head—what Jeremiah said the last time we were out together, other than seeing him for a moment at the rodeo.”
“When was this?” Albert asked.
“Thursday afternoon, and then we went to eat at the diner. Ya, I’m sure of it because I had to get up early the next day to be at the bakery, and I’d told him I had to be home fairly early.”
“Tell them the rest,” Silas said.
“We were driving away from Vernon’s, and Jeremiah said, ‘I like this place. I trust it, like I trust you.’”
“How do you trust a place?” Katie Ann asked.
“Vernon Frey’s house?” Albert peered at her. “You’re sure that’s where you were?”
“I know where we went to have some private time, and yes, I’m sure that’s where we were the last time we were together.”
Albert had pulled off his hat and was rubbing his hand back and forth across the top of his head. “As far as I’m aware of, no work has been done there since the fire… since Vernon died.”
“Which was two years ago,” Katie Ann pointed out.
“We used to go there nearly once a week. There was no harm in it.” Naomi plopped down onto an overturned milking pail. “We’d drive over in his mammi’s buggy and sit and talk.”
“That house is about to fall in on itself,” Silas said.
“But we didn’t go to the house. At the back of the property was an area for kinner.”
“Vernon never had children.” Albert sounded as though he were arguing with her, but his expression told her he was more confused than argumentative.
“I think the playground stuff was from the family who owned the house before him. The area is all grown up with weeds and such. There’s an old tire swing and a jungle gym and a… a… ” Her words stuttered to a stop. She didn’t know how to explain the rest. “I think I should show you.”
“Tonight?” Albert’s voice rose in surprise.
They would all need to be up early to complete chores before church, but Naomi felt a sudden sense of urgency. “Ya. I think it’s important.”
“You rode here with me and Katie Ann,” Silas said. “We can take you by Vernon’s, check this thing out, and see if it’s worth telling anyone else about.”
“We’ll all go.” Albert plopped his hat back on his head. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on the fun.”
What was left unsaid was what Naomi was thinking, what she knew they all were thinking. Four was safer than two or even three.
“Take both buggies?” Katie Ann asked.
“We should,” Albert agreed. “Then I can take Naomi home, and you two can head back to your parents’ place.”
But that wasn’t what Silas had in mind. “I’ll take Naomi home,” he said gruffly.
She remembered the kiss, his awkward confession that he was turning over a new leaf, and the way his hand felt on her arm. Naomi couldn’t suppress a smile when Katie Ann rolled her eyes, though she apparently remained clueless as to Albert’s interest. Her best friend noticed very little unless the thing in front of her had four legs and a tail.
“Silas and I will ride together, and you can ride with Albert,” Katie Ann said, returning the piglet to its mother.
“Actually, I want to ask you about my mare.” Albert cleared his throat and rubbed at his jaw as if he’d just remembered something important. “She’s suddenly putting on weight, and I’m wondering if it’s healthy for her.”
“Ya, that’s something you want to be careful about.” Katie Ann walked away with Albert, and Naomi heard the words feed and overweight and conditioning. Albert was probably getting way more information than he needed or wanted.
Silas reached for Naomi’s hand and pulled her away from the pigpen and toward his buggy. “Sounds like Albert is making excuses to spend time with my sister.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Are you kidding? Anyone who can snatch Katie Ann’s attention from a horse stall or a piglet or a wounded bird has my vote, and Albert is a good guy.”
Naomi thought he might kiss her again as he opened the buggy door for her. For a moment he leaned in close. He reached out and touched her face, and her heart seemed to stop beating. But then he stepped back and the moment passed.
Did she want him to kiss her again?
Shouldn’t she still be mourning Jeremiah?
But in truth, she and Jeremiah hadn’t kissed in a long time.
They waited for Albert to pull out in his buggy, and then Katie Ann waved to the two of them, indicating they should go first.
“Tell me about you and Jeremiah,” Silas said as he directed the mare toward the road.
So she did. She told him about the things weighing heavily on her heart, the thoughts that circled round and round in her mind each night and stole her sleep. She told him about Jeremiah’s growing fascination with the Englisch, how he loved the rodeo, that he often sent money home to his family.
Silas was a good listener. He waited until she finished before commenting. “It’s a lot for you to deal with, Naomi. And you think he may have hid the money at Vernon’s? Why? Why would he do such a thing?”
“I don’t know for certain, but he wanted to go there nearly every time I saw him—as I said, at least once a week.”
“You said he sent money home.”
“He did, but perhaps he put it at Vernon’s until he could get a money order. Or he had to keep the money he owed people somewhere. Maybe he didn’t want to keep it at his mammi’s.”
“Might have wanted to protect Ruth from any trouble, assuming he was aware there might be trouble.”
“I think… I think he might have been using me for cover.”
“Huh?”
“If someone saw us out, they would just assume we were courting.”
“But you weren’t?”
“Maybe the first few weeks. After that, though, it felt as if we were friends—good friends—but I think we both knew nothing would come of it.”
She thought of Silas leaning toward her in the dark as they’d approached the buggy, of hoping he would kiss her again, of her disappointment when he hadn’t. She felt none of those things with Jeremiah. Now that she looked back on it, she’d considered him to be more of a cousin who needed a friend.
“I didn’t have romantic feelings for him, the kind a woman should have for a man she’s stepping out with. And I don’t think he felt that way about me either.”
Silas reached over and squeezed her hand. “Which isn’t your fault. That’s what stepping out is for, to see if you share those sorts of feelings.”
“Is that why you’ve dated so many girls? Were you trying to find someone you shared those feelings with?” She immediately wished she could pull back the words. Just the week before she’d heard Franey say at the bakery, “Think before you speak, but don’t speak all you think.” At the time she’d giggled, but now she understood what the proverb meant.
“I guess that was why.” Silas blew out a big breath. “Honestly, I was just being stupid, not even considering anyone else’s feelings. It was a game, and I thought everyone knew it. My dat helped me to see otherwise.”
The night had grown dark except for the light of the quarter moon, making his confession all the more intimate.
Naomi remained silent. She didn’t know how to answer him. She did know that some of the girls Silas dated and dropped had been hurt and confused. Perhaps they hadn’t known he was dating others
at the same time. Maybe they thought it was their fault that the relationship ended. If she were to step out with him, would she be nursing a wounded heart a week or month later? She wasn’t sure it was worth it. Perhaps she should keep her distance.
“I believe I have some apologizing to do,” he added, though she couldn’t tell if he was speaking to her or to himself.
“Apologize to whom?”
“The women I hurt. Those I may have misled.”
Which could mean he really had experienced a change of heart.
To Naomi it seemed a sign of maturity. Could someone’s ways change so quickly, though? Silas seemed sincere, but he had a reputation to overcome. She supposed time would tell. Until she knew for certain, she would do well to guard her heart.
Thirty-Seven
Emma was wiping down the kitchen counter one last time. She’d turned out most of the downstairs lights and was about to head to bed when she heard the boys hollering. She rushed to the back door, arriving there the same time Stephen and Thomas did.
“They’re out.” Stephen leaned over, bracing his hands on his legs and pulling in deep, shuddering breaths.
“All of them.”
“We tried to stop them.”
“Couldn’t, though. Too late.”
“What’s this about?” Clyde asked, straightening his suspenders as he walked into the mudroom.
“The horses, Dat.” Thomas, as the oldest, stood up straighter. “They’re all out. They’re all loose on the road.”
Clyde owned six draft horses and three buggy horses, if you counted Emma’s mare, Cinnamon. It was every farmer’s nightmare that the animals would get loose and be hit by a passing motorist. Horses were the gears that made an Amish farm run. They were also a significant monetary investment.
“Which direction?” Clyde asked.
“North. I think they fled to the north.” Thomas looked to Stephen for confirmation.
“Ya. North. At least they were.”
By this time Rachel had come to see what was wrong. She’d already removed her kapp and brushed out her hair, preparing for bed, but she’d thrown back on her day clothes.
“Go,” she said. “We’ll bring more lanterns.”
Who the Bishop Knows Page 17
