Who the Bishop Knows

by Vannetta Chapman

  He carried their sweets and drinks out the door and to the side of the restaurant while Emma released Lexi from the buggy. She was once again wearing her vest and her leash was attached, though it was completely unnecessary—the little dog didn’t stray from Emma’s side. The bakery’s picnic area had been transformed by Lewis’s glider tables, which were each covered with a different color canvas top. Lexi spied Henry and jumped up into the glider, sitting back prettily on her haunches and waiting for him to set it into motion.

  Emma gazed up at the purple canvas covering. “The bright colors were Josephine’s idea.”

  “I feel like I know her well, even though she’s been here less than a year.”

  “Same here. Though we started circle letters to her when they first announced their intentions—so it feels as if I’ve known her longer. She’s been a good addition to our community, and Lewis is like a new man. Has a real spring in his step, isn’t it so?”

  “It is.”

  Flowers had been planted in colorful pots throughout the picnic area, and a small birding area had been set up to the south side.

  “The widows have made a real nice place here.”

  “Three Amish women starting a business.” Henry shook his head in mock despair. “Times are a-changing.”

  They enjoyed their sweet rolls, and after they’d finished their drinks, Henry brought up the topic of Lloyd.

  “I spoke with Grayson last night and tried to see Lloyd, but he didn’t want visitors.”

  “I heard his parents won’t be coming for the trial.”

  “It’s true. I reached them by phone, and they told me Lloyd has chosen his path. They said they no longer consider him a part of the family.”

  “Shunned?”

  Henry shrugged. “I haven’t spoken to their bishop yet, though I did leave a message.”

  “I can’t imagine what that must be like. For them or for Lloyd.”

  Henry tapped his fingers against the table. He wasn’t sure how much of what Grayson had told him he should share. He wasn’t sure that Emma wanted a fine August morning marred by such dark news, but then it occurred to him that she would soon be his wife, and that it would be best to share as much of life’s burdens as possible. Lloyd’s confession was indeed a burden on his soul, that a Plain man could have fallen so far away from the path God had set before each of them.

  “What is it?” Emma asked. “I can always tell when you’re deep in thought. You start—”

  She mimed rubbing one eyebrow, and Henry laughed. He realized it was true, now that she pointed it out. If he didn’t watch out, he’d rub one off—and wouldn’t that look odd?

  “Lloyd confessed to killing Jeremiah. He said he was doing his community a favor, that Jeremiah was an embarrassment to our faith.”

  “And so he shot him?” Emma stared into her empty cup. “Makes no sense.”

  “The judge agrees and has ordered a psychiatric evaluation. Today he’ll be transferred to the facility over in Alamosa and held there until his trial, which could be many months, depending on what the evaluation reveals.”

  “Will you go and see him… in Alamosa?”

  “When he’ll let me. Until then, I’ll send letters.”

  That sat between them for a moment. Finally Emma asked, “Have you spoken to Jeremiah’s parents?”

  “I have—well, I’ve spoken with Clara.”

  “And?”

  “Her grief is still a heavy thing. She says Gideon is grieving as well.”

  “I suppose he is in his own way.”

  “On the one hand, they were already reeling from having lost their son to an Englisch lifestyle, accepting that he wouldn’t settle down, choose to be Plain, and work on a farm. They didn’t understand Jeremiah’s love for the rodeo or why he would want fame and fortune.”

  “Many wealthy Englischers, and even a few wealthy Amish, do great good with their money.” Emma folded her paper napkin once and then again. “The Good Book doesn’t say a person can’t be wealthy, only that it makes life more difficult in some ways.”

  “That’s true, and I think Jeremiah’s parents might have come around to that point of view eventually. Now they won’t have that chance. They had hoped that one day he would reconcile with them and with our faith—so their grief is doubled now, knowing that will never happen.”

  “But Jeremiah still had faith, only not the Plain kind. He still believed. He told Naomi as much.”

  “And I shared that with his parents. I think, in time, it will bring them a measure of comfort.”

  Lexi trotted beside them as they put their cups and plates into a bin for dirty dishes on a table near the door, and then they strolled to Henry’s buggy.

  It occurred to Henry that he’d spent enough time dwelling on the dark side of man’s nature. First Vernon Frey’s killer, then the Sophia Brooks murderer, and now Lloyd. He’d had more than his share of such things. He couldn’t fathom why he’d been involved with all three, or what God had meant for him to learn. But he’d realized two things for certain, and it occurred to him that he should share them with Emma.

  He helped her and Lexi into the buggy and waited until they were on the road before he glanced her way and cleared his throat.

  “I believe our marriage will be calmer than the last few years.”

  “Whether it is or not, we’ll have each other, but ya, I hope you’re right.”

  “I’ve learned a few things from it all.”

  “Have you now?” Emma smiled at him prettily, and he saw in her face the young girl he’d once known back in Goshen, the friend who had always been there for him, and the gentle soul who was soon to be his bride.

  “My accident… ” He touched the side of his head. “It wasn’t an accident after all. Maybe Atlee Stolzfus never intended to hit me with a baseball all those years ago, but Gotte foresaw what would happen, and He used it for good.”

  “So you no longer fear it’s a curse?”

  “Nein. A gift from God? Any gift is a thing to be treasured, simple as that.”

  Emma nodded in agreement. “And the second thing you’ve learned?”

  “To appreciate ordinary days, the days when nothing happens at all to differentiate them from any other day, the days that when you look back, they make up your life.”

  Instead of answering, Emma reached across Lexi and placed her hand on top of his. The little dog looked from Emma to Henry, and then she placed her head on her paws with a contented sigh.

  Oreo trotted at a steady pace down the road as the San Luis Valley stretched out before them.

  Sixty-Eight

  Naomi and Katie Ann waved when they passed Henry’s buggy on the road.

  “They’re so cute together,” Naomi said, squirming around in her seat to watch them. “And they take that dog with them whenever they can.”

  “I’d say Lexi has earned all the outings she wants. I still can’t believe she delivered a note to Seth and Roseann.”

  “She probably saved us.”

  “Probably did. Who knows, maybe they’ll even let Lexi be in the wedding.” Katie Ann laughed as soon as she said it, and Naomi even managed a tiny smile. A beagle participating in an Amish wedding. That sounded like one of the books Rachel read.

  “Hard to believe they’re to be married soon,” Katie Ann added.

  “Are you glad? That she’s marrying again, I mean.”

  “Ya, I am. I miss my grandfather, but I also adore Henry. I think it will be good for my brothers to have him around, and it’ll be good for me too.”

  As they neared the center of town, traffic picked up, and Katie Ann focused on her driving. Naomi had been surprised and also relieved when she’d shown up at her aenti’s house and asked her to go to town. She figured Katie Ann would already be working with Doc Berry again, but apparently everyone thought they needed time off after what happened with Lloyd. Naomi would rather be busy. She thought less when she was busy and could push aside the nightmares that plagued her.
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  Going to town was the next best thing to working, so she’d immediately agreed.

  They pulled into a lot at the end of Main Street with special parking for buggies. Shoulder to shoulder, they walked to the library and picked up books for Katie Ann’s mother, stopped by the post office and mailed a letter, and then made their way to the general store. Both girls had lists from home. They wandered the aisles, baskets over their arms, choosing their purchases. It was rather nice to shop without being in a rush. When they’d checked out, the clerk said, “Would you girls like an ice cream cone? It’s on the house.”

  “Are you sure?” Naomi glanced at Katie Ann, who looked as surprised as she was.

  “’Course I’m sure. You two are practically heroes now. Double scoops, my treat.”

  Who could turn that down?

  Five minutes later, they were sitting on a bench outside the store, enjoying their ice cream cones—strawberry for Naomi and vanilla-chocolate swirl for Katie Ann. The sun was warm on their faces, and Naomi thought she could at least imagine life being normal again, even if it wasn’t quite there yet.

  “You’ve been kind of quiet,” Katie Ann said. “Are you doing okay?”

  “I had the nightmare again last night.”

  “Were we on the train like in your other dream?”

  “Ya.”

  “And Lloyd was there?”

  “Nein. This time he’d taped us to a seat and left us. He’d jumped off, but his drone thing—it remained there, watching us.”

  Katie Ann studied her ice cream cone, looking serious, as if she could solve this if only she concentrated hard enough. “Maybe we should buy one.”

  “Buy one?”

  “A drone.”

  “Why would we do that?”

  “We could learn to play with it.”

  “Didn’t see any in the general store.”

  “No, but someone mentioned they have them at the discount store.”

  “You want to buy a drone and play with it?”

  “Maybe. It might take some of the terror away.”

  Naomi shrugged and licked at a stream of strawberry that had nearly reached her hand.

  “In the dream, we were about to crash?”

  “We were. The train kept gaining speed and in front of us loomed—”

  “A solid black wall,” they said in unison.

  They finished their ice cream, tossed their napkins into a trash receptacle, and walked arm in arm down the sidewalk toward Katie Ann’s buggy.

  A couple wearing I Love Monte Vista T-shirts and sporting cameras around their necks stopped and stared. The woman offered a little wave, and Katie Ann waved back.

  “Tourists,” Naomi said.

  “At least they didn’t ask to take a selfie with us this time.” Katie Ann bumped shoulders with Naomi, and it felt so natural that some of Naomi’s anxiety slipped away.

  “Have you talked to Henry?” Katie Ann asked.

  “Twice.”

  “And?”

  “He thinks I should continue writing for the Budget.”

  “Ya. I agree.”

  “But what if… ” They’d reached Cinnamon. Both girls put their hands on the mare’s neck, leaned in, and smelled deeply. “What if what I write causes… ”

  Katie Ann waited. This was one of the things Naomi loved about her best friend. She never rushed a conversation, never acted impatient or as if she had better things to do.

  “What if what I write causes someone else to do something crazy… hurt someone, even kill someone.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Katie Ann untied the lead rope and gave the mare a nice scratch between the ears. Cinnamon nickered softly and nudged her pockets, looking for a treat. Katie Ann pulled out a small carrot and held it in the palm of her hand. Cinnamon took it in her big, soft lips, and it seemed to Naomi that the mare smiled. She could write about that. A buggy horse with the same emotions as people.

  “I think Lloyd was like a ticking bomb,” Katie Ann said. “He was bound to go off if no one intervened, and he was good at hiding his craziness, his jealousy, so that no one knew to intervene.”

  “What are you saying? You think it would have happened whether or not I’d written about Jeremiah?”

  “I do.”

  They climbed into the buggy. When Cinnamon had settled into an easy trot, and they were turned toward home, Naomi spoke again.

  “I’ve been thinking about writing a piece I’d like to see in the next issue.”

  “Ya?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “An Amish woman who works with a local veterinarian.”

  Katie Ann’s laughter was contagious. It felt good and right to be happy on a sunny August afternoon in the San Luis Valley. Naomi looked out across the fields, toward the mountains. She liked living on the outskirts of Monte Vista, nestled in the valley. She thought she could be happy here.

  Katie Ann pulled up in front of the Beilers’ house, but she reached out and stopped Naomi when she made to leave the buggy.

  “Silas asked about you again. He wants to give you space, but he also wants you to know he’s thinking about you… and waiting until you’re ready to see him.”

  “I do want to see him, but I’m not ready to step out with anyone. Not yet.”

  “He understands.”

  “I hope so. What about you and Albert?”

  “He’s taking me to dinner on Friday. If you and Silas would like to join us… ”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “It takes time for life to return to normal, or it did for me. My parents and Mammi think it was the trip to Florida that helped me. I’d been dreaming about the Monte Vista arsonist for weeks. I couldn’t rest or eat or laugh. Then I was at my aenti’s in Florida, and I still had those same problems, but slowly things improved. Took time, though.”

  “Like healing from an injury.”

  “Exactly. When Cinnamon had a leg injury last year, it took months, not weeks, before she was sound again.”

  “I remember your being so worried.”

  “I was. I took special care icing it, applied support bandages, even gave her anti-inflammatory drugs, but mostly what healed her was time. I think maybe that’s the important thing when we’re hurting—to allow ourselves time to heal.”

  Naomi squeezed her friend’s hand, hopped out of the buggy, and stood watching her and her mare head toward home.

  Maybe Katie Ann was right, and time was one thing she had plenty of.

  Sixty-Nine

  Emma fidgeted with her dress and her apron and her kapp.

  Rachel stood beside her as they looked out the upstairs window at their friends and family gathering below. A few Englischers—and of course everyone in their church district—had come. The women’s dresses were as colorful as the flowers that rimmed Emma’s garden, and the men were wearing their Sunday best—black coats, black pants, dazzling white shirts. Tables had been set up to the side, under the shade of the cottonwood trees. On the center of each table was a glass jar filled with celery. Emma knew the young girls preferred flowers, but celery was fine with her—the old way was fine with her. It brought a measure of comfort.

  Her dress was a pale blue, and the apron matched. Her kapp was new, starched, perfect.

  “Nervous?” Rachel reached forward and pushed back the strings of Emma’s kapp.

  “About the ceremony? Yes. A little. But not about Henry.”

  “He’s a good man, and he loves you.”

  “I love him.” Emma turned and studied her daughter-in-law. “I never expected to be marrying again. Never even thought I’d want to.”

  “You had a good marriage with George.”

  “I did. I was happy and considered myself blessed. And when he passed, I thought that was the way of things, that others go through it, and I would come out the other side of my grief eventually.”

  “And then you fell in love with Henry.”
r />   “And he fell in love with me.”

  “Gotte is good.”

  “All the time.”

  Rachel put her arms around Emma, held her for a moment, and then said, “Clyde will wonder what’s happened to us.”

  They walked downstairs, Rachel squeezed her hand, and then she disappeared outside. Emma walked into the sitting room where her son and Henry were waiting.

  Emma sat down beside Henry, who reached for her hand.

  Clyde was holding the family Bible, and he had it open to the twenty-first chapter of Genesis. Emma could make out the German text, though it was upside down. She knew that Bible well, had held it on her lap through many a long night.

  “Now the Lord was gracious to Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah what he had promised.”

  Emma glanced at Henry, whose smile now stretched wide.

  “Are you prophesying that we’re to have a child, Clyde?”

  “Nein.” Clyde glanced up at the two of them, and then he looked back down at the Scripture. “The Lord did for Sarah what He had promised.”

  “Even in her old age,” Emma said.

  “He is always faithful,” Henry added.

  “I was thinking on what I could possibly say to you two. Mamm, you’ve raised me in the ways of our faith. You’ve been a good mother and have been kind to my wife and loving to my children. I know what you had with Dat was special, and I know that… ” He glanced out the sitting room window, toward the barn. “I know how lonely you were after he passed.”

  “You all were there for me,” Emma said. She heard the singing that had begun outside, and she basked in the knowledge that her friends and family were celebrating this time with them. “You helped me.”

  Clyde nodded and then focused his attention on Henry. “You have been my bishop for many years, a good bishop. You’ve guided me. You’ve been my friend, and I am honored to have you marry my mother.”

  “Danki, Clyde.”

  “So no, I’m not saying that God will bless you with a child, though with Him all things are possible. Wasn’t Abraham a hundred years old, and Sarah ninety?”

  “Indeed,” Henry said.

  “What I am saying, what I realized last night when I was praying about what to say to you two, is that God is faithful, and that He isn’t finished with you yet.”