“There’s some Tic Tacs in Grandma’s glove compartment.”
Grace shook some out into her hand. “You want one?”
“Thanks.” Becky popped one into her mouth without taking her eyes off the road.
“What happened while I was at the hospital?” Grace asked. “What did the sheriff do with Owen and Frank?”
“Frank’s in jail. The sheriff said they found a couple of his fingerprints on the bullets. The sheriff said he was glad Grandma wasn’t in the habit of keeping it already loaded, or it would have been harder to connect Frank to the murder.”
“What did he do about Owen?”
“The sheriff found a better temporary home for Owen than Grandma’s smokehouse.”
“Where’s that?”
“Some Old Order Amish man is giving Owen a place to stay in exchange for some work. Owen isn’t thrilled about getting up at four in the morning to put mechanical milkers on a herd of dairy cows, but he’s doing it.”
Grace sucked on the mint for a moment. “You’d better slow down. It’s too foggy to drive the speed limit. There are too many buggies on the roads in the morning.”
Becky obediently eased her foot off the accelerator.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Grace said. “Why did Skraggs need to use you to sell Grandma’s things? Why didn’t he just back a truck up, clean us out, and head to the next state?”
“He said everyone would be suspicious of him, but no one would suspect me because I’m just the sweet, innocent little granddaughter.”
“Are you trying to be funny?”
“No. It’s the truth. That’s what Frank said.”
“I still don’t understand what Frank was doing at the Shetlers’ in the first place. How did he know there would be auction money there? He didn’t strike me as the kind of man to spend a lot of time hanging out at livestock auctions.”
“I found out only last night.” Becky swerved slightly to avoid a buggy and horses trotting along in the early-morning mist. “The murder happened on a Thursday morning. I didn’t know about Frank yet, and Owen didn’t want to get me involved. On the other hand, he didn’t have so much as a dime to give to Frank. On Wednesday, Owen had seen Abraham take a young horse to the weekly auction in Mt. Hope. He knew they would bring back cash and since the Amish are supposed to be nonviolent, he told Frank about it, thinking it would be a way of making Frank happy without anyone getting hurt.”
“Was Owen with Frank when he shot Abraham?”
“No. He didn’t even know Frank had the gun until afterward, when Frank started bragging about how he had shot Abraham and Claire. He said that’s when he realized Frank was crazy. Owen said he was scared stiff of the man. There’s something seriously wrong with Skraggs.”
Grace made a sound of disgust. “You think?”
“You really aren’t going to forgive me for a while, are you?”
“Nope.” Grace pointed. “Watch out. There’s another buggy.”
Becky swerved. “Gosh, they’re thick this morning.”
“It’s early,” Grace said. “And it’s a workday.”
“So many bicycles, too. Sometimes I wonder if Holmes County doesn’t have more bicycles than any other county in the United States. Even the Amish girls ride bikes to work.” Becky tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe I should get a job.”
“You’re going to have to if you’re going to pay Grandma back for the things you sold.”
“I took only the things she had told me I could have when she died.”
“She’s not dead yet, Becky!” Grace huffed. “Although I’m surprised this mess you made didn’t kill her.”
“I said I was sorry!”
“Yes, but it’s going to take a while before either one of us completely trusts you again.”
“I know.”
“What I don’t understand is how Frank managed to get the gun in the first place. Did you give it to him?”
“Of course not! He found it in Grandma’s house.”
“Skraggs was in our house?”
“Oh, yeah,” Becky said. “The first time I ever saw him, he was inside the house going through Grandma’s stuff and I surprised him. I about had a heart attack. He promised to stay out as long as I was giving him regular cash payments.”
“It gives me the creeps to know that he was going through our stuff!” Grace said.
“Are you ready to forgive me yet?”
“No.” Grace stared out the window for a few minutes. “What is the sheriff going to do to you?”
“I’ll have to testify, but the sheriff said he wasn’t going to charge me with anything except being young and stupid.”
“Nothing?”
“The only thing I had done illegally was sell some of Grandma’s things. The sheriff asked her if she wanted to press charges and she said that since I was her ride home, she’d rather not.”
“Sounds like her,” Grace said. “By the way, I saw the place where Owen was staying.”
“Sad, wasn’t it?”
“Very.”
“He was going to leave. He had found a job at one of the cheese-processing plants and was supposed to start next Monday. As soon as he got Frank paid off, he was going to find a place to rent.”
“You’ll need to go apologize to Claire and Levi for bringing this tragedy into their lives.”
“I’m really dreading that. But honestly, I was just trying to help. I never in a million years thought giving a friend a place to sleep would turn into this. Have you forgiven me yet?”
“Will you ever be dumb enough to do something like this again?”
“Not in a million years.”
Grace hesitated a moment. “I’ll work on it.”
chapter TWENTY-NINE
“You should not be here,” Levi said as his mother brought soup and fresh-baked rolls to his room above the workshop. “The bishop would not approve.”
“Well, then we will be even, because I do not much approve of the bishop.”
“Maam!” He could hardly believe that his gentle mother had said such a thing. In their world, this was skirting very close to blasphemy.
“I will not shun my own son who has done nothing wrong.” She set the tray of food on his table. “Never again.”
“What? You will be disciplined if the bishop finds out.”
“The bishop is not God”—Claire put her hands on her hips—“and his daughter is not with child!”
This was surprising news to Levi. “How do you know?”
“I am not blind. I have helped deliver too many babies and watched too many women in the early stages of pregnancy. You can take my word on it. That girl is not carrying a child.”
“Does the bishop know?”
“Ezra Weaver is blind when it comes to his only daughter.”
“If you’re right,” Levi mused, “and she’s not pregnant, she’ll have to tell the bishop and her mother sometime.”
“Not necessarily,” Claire said.
“What do you mean?”
“She could always pretend that she ‘lost’ the baby.” Claire shrugged. “Zillah is good at pretending.”
“She is.”
His mother looked around the sparsely furnished room. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Only for this shoulder to heal so that I can get back to work. I’m worried about getting the rest of the planting finished.”
“You chose a good time to get shot,” Claire teased. “It has been too wet to work the soil.”
“Truly said.”
His mother glanced out the window. “Oh. Here comes Grace. She’s carrying something.” She busied herself setting out the rolls, soup, and silverware on the table. “Sometimes I wish Grace were Amish.” She shot a glance at him. “I think you sometimes wish for this, too?”
“I don’t wish for that. Grace would not be who she is if she were not Englisch.”
There was a knock on the door. Claire opened i
t and Grace stepped in. In addition to her medical basket, she was carrying a cake. Levi’s heart leaped when he saw her—and it wasn’t because of the cake.
“Hi, Claire,” Grace said. “The children said you were over here. How is our patient this morning?”
“Complaining, as usual, about not being able to work,” Claire boasted. “My Levi does not know how to rest.”
“I know.”
“How is your grandmother?” Claire asked.
“Feeling so much better that she baked this morning. It’s the first time since her surgery that she’s felt strong enough. She wanted me to bring this to Levi. She said she remembers his liking this when he was little.” She placed the cake on the table beside the tray that Claire had carried in. “Orange cake with dark chocolate frosting. Do you remember this, Levi?”
“Of course. It was your grandfather’s favorite,” Levi said. “Sometimes when she was especially missing him, she would bake this and we would eat it together while she told me stories about him.”
“I’m sure that was a comfort to her.”
Levi smiled. “It was also a comfort to a little boy’s belly.”
Suddenly there was a disturbance in the yard.
“Maam!” Albert called. “Maam! Daniel is crying!”
“Enjoy your food.” Claire patted him on the leg. “I will be back soon.”
Once Claire was gone, Grace came over and placed a hand against his forehead. “No fever. How are you feeling?”
“De ganz dog rum hocka macht em faul.”
“And that means?”
“Sitting all day makes one lazy.” He shrugged. “It’s something my stepfather used to say.”
“Perhaps, but a little rest has agreed with you. Your color is better than yesterday.”
“I’ve had a good nurse.”
Grace removed his bandages and pulled fresh ones out of her medical basket.
“You have done too much of this for our family lately,” he said as he watched.
“You’re right.” She was intent on her work. “Your family needs to break the habit of standing in front of bullets.”
“I was not standing.”
“I know.” She grinned. “You were like a mad bull charging that man.”
“He was threatening Jesse. I was not thinking straight.”
“If you had been a soldier, you would get a medal for what you did.”
“I don’t want medals. I only want my family to be safe.”
She sat on the edge of the bed while she put on the fresh bandages. After she finished taping them she pulled off her gloves and started to rise, but he grabbed her wrist and held it.
“Don’t go.”
She sat quietly beside him. It felt good just to have her near. She smelled like wild roses. It was a surprisingly old-fashioned smell—not a scent he would have expected a modern woman like Grace to choose.
Now that he was feeling better, everything within him wanted to pull her close. To hold her near him for the rest of his life. He could see the longing in her eyes for him as well.
“We are alone,” Grace said. “And we shouldn’t be. I need to go.”
“Yes.” He sighed as he released her. “You need to go.”
She placed the palm of her hand against his cheek for a brief caress before she arose.
“You may start moving around more, but please take it easy, Levi. Don’t use your shoulder for anything heavy. You don’t want to tear something that has begun to heal.”
“I’ll be careful,” Levi promised.
“I’m going into Millersburg today to try to repurchase the things that Becky sold to that antiques store owner,” Grace said.
“Like that toy monkey you told me about?”
“Especially that one.” She reached for the door. “Before I go, is there anything I can pick up for you while I’m in town?”
“There is one thing I’ve been wishing I had.”
“What’s that?”
He smiled. “Do you own a library card, Grace?”
“Not yet, but I can get one. Why?”
“I would very much appreciate it if you would.” He pulled a small list from his pocket. “My people have a saying—Di mai glond, di mai fuguddled—‘The more learned, the more confused.’ Since it is impossible for me to get into any more trouble with the bishop than I already am, and since I am already very confused, here’s a list of topics I would like to learn about if the library has any books on them.”
Grace took the list. “I’ll be more than happy to do that for you, Levi.”
He did not understand why Grace had tears in her eyes when she left.
chapter THIRTY
It was yet another drizzly morning. It seemed as though the sun had rarely shown its face throughout the entire month of May. Levi thought how well the weather had mirrored his emotions through these past turbulent weeks. Now it was the middle of June and every farmer in the state was desperately hoping the rain would go away so their fields would have a chance to recuperate.
Today he was repairing harnesses inside his workshop. His wounds had healed well, and although his shoulder was stiff, it was nothing that he could not live with. He would have endured much worse than a couple of gunshot wounds to save his little brother’s life.
The close call with Skraggs had brought out a serious side to Jesse that Levi was saddened to see. He hoped Jesse would recover quickly and once again be a carefree little boy.
He wondered what Grace was doing this morning. Grace was on his mind almost constantly these days. She had come every day to dress his wound or to bring him some new library books, or something special to eat. It had been painful to forfeit her daily visits once he had healed enough that there was no more reason for her to come to see him.
But in spite of everything he had been through, the ban was not lifted. If anything, he was under even more suspicion now. Amish people did not fight. And he had.
He knew that whether or not an Amish could defend himself or his family was a question that most Amish men pondered from time to time. Most dealt with it by simply praying that God would never put them in such a situation.
But he had been put in that situation and he had discovered that it was impossible for him to even stand back and allow someone he loved to be hurt.
This was deeply troubling.
Knowing this about himself, could he in all good conscience remain Swartzentruber? Could he remain Amish at all?
He had gone from being panicked about being placed under the Meidung to being almost grateful for the relative isolation in which he had been living the past few weeks. The ban had left him with much time to think.
He loved being part of a community of believers. He loved being held within the strong network of extended family and friends. He didn’t mind at all wearing the simple clothing of the Swartzentrubers, and he could live the rest of his life without electricity or even running water.
But he was afraid he would never again be able to respect Bishop Weaver’s leadership. The unquestioning love and affection he had always held for his church was eroding.
He did not expect to see anyone today and was surprised when he heard a buggy in his driveway.
He had a lapful of harness, so he didn’t bother to get up. He figured whoever it was had probably come to see his mother about something, perhaps some illness that needed one of Claire’s herbs or tinctures. Now that she was well, her work as a healer was picking up.
He was surprised when the door to his workshop opened and even more surprised when he saw that it was Bishop Weaver.
His hands stilled as he waited to see what the bishop wanted. Perhaps to try to convince him one more time to marry his daughter now that he had a good taste of the ban.
The bishop had aged in the few weeks since Levi had seen him. His beard was grayer. The lines around his eyes and mouth looked deeper. Levi’s heart went out to the man—in spite of his own pain—because he knew it must be a terrible thing to be remind
ed of his unmarried daughter’s pregnancy, false though it was, every time he looked at her.
Bishop Weaver took his hat off and shook the raindrops off it. Then he wearily sat down.
Levi waited. It was not his place to initiate the conversation.
The bishop stared at the floor as though gathering his thoughts, and then he slowly raised his head and looked him straight in the eyes.
“The burden of being a bishop is a heavy one,” he said, “and it is not a position I ever wanted.”
He brushed the wet hat with his fingers and wiped them on his equally wet pants legs.
“I know it is a heavy responsibility,” Levi agreed. He forced himself not to say more—he might say something he would regret. Much better to be quiet and let the bishop speak.
“If I am allowed to go to heaven,” the bishop said, “I know I will be judged with a much heavier judgment than those who did not serve as leaders. It is a job I have taken seriously and I have done the best I knew to do. It is not an easy task to be the one who is constantly trying to hold back the reins when some of my people want to try new things. I was afraid that if I ever loosened my grip, our church would become as liberal as the other Amish orders.”
Levi was surprised to hear the bishop’s voice choke with emotion.
He wished he could take this great burden off the man, but he simply could not. This was something that Bishop Weaver would have to bear on his own.
He was stunned at the man’s next words.
“I have done you a great injustice,” the bishop said. He handed Levi a rain-splattered envelope.
“My wife found this in Zillah’s bedroom this morning,” the bishop said. “I came here as soon as I could harness my team.”
Levi allowed the broken harness to fall to the floor as he reached for the envelope. It was lavender with a faint background of pansies—girl’s stationery. Amish girls loved to write letters to one another. The ownership of pretty stationery was one of the few luxuries they were allowed.
On the front of the envelope it simply said “Maam and Daed,” written in what looked to be hurriedly scribbled handwriting.
An Uncommon Grace Page 27
