Danger in Amish Country: Fall from GraceDangerous HomecomingReturn to Willow Trace (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Perry, Marta

  She and Caleb were perched atop the first graders’ desks, which were, of course, the row closest to her desk. It was not exactly comfortable, but she kept her hands folded in her lap and her feet, in their sedate black shoes, together on the wide planks of the wooden floor.

  Chief O’Brian, benevolent and grandfatherly, had guided the small police presence that covered both the village of Beaver Creek and the rural township since before Sara was born. He consulted the notes he’d been making and then looked up at her.

  A girlish giggle floated in from the porch, distracting him. Lily and Lovina were teaching Rachel how to play jacks under the observant gaze of a young officer. Sara felt sure that the giggle, coming from Lily, was for the benefit of the policeman.

  She’d chide the girl, but she was too relieved that they were well screened from the efforts under way across the creek, where the emergency crew was removing the body.

  “Well, now.” Chief O’Brian returned to the subject at hand. “I think there’s just one thing that’s not quite clear to me, Teacher Sara. Why exactly were you and Mr. King out there looking at the ridge to begin with?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but Caleb beat her to it.

  “My little girl was telling me something I couldn’t make heads or tails of about an old man,” he said. “When I picked her up after school today, I asked Teacher Sara about it. She showed me the way the rock outcropping looks like a face in profile.”

  “Caleb and his daughter are new to Beaver Creek,” Sara said, although she suspected that the police chief, like the Amish bishop, knew all there was to know about newcomers. “You know how the kinner talk about that face they think they see in the rocks.” She turned to Caleb. “Chief O’Brian visits our school several times a year. He teaches the scholars how to be safe when they’re walking along the roads. And brings them candy canes at Christmas, ain’t so?”

  Chief O’Brian’s lined face relaxed in a smile. “Visiting the schools is my favorite part of my job. Not like this situation.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the ridge.

  Caleb’s explanation had made it sound as if Rachel’s questions about the old man were mere curiosity. No doubt he was relieved that the chief had moved away from the topic.

  “I’m sorry for the man’s family to be getting news like this,” she said. “Do you know who he was?”

  “Not yet,” Chief O’Brian said. “So you folks were just looking over that way out of idle curiosity, is that it?”

  Apparently he wasn’t ready to move away from the topic after all. Sara glanced at the poster above the chalkboard, which proclaimed Visitors are the sunshine in our day in cursive letters.

  She could practically feel the intensity of Caleb’s will directed toward her. For whatever reason, he didn’t want her to say anything more about Rachel.

  “I...I suppose so.” Sara tried to sound confident, but it went against her nature even to imply something that wasn’t true. She could feel her cheeks growing warm.

  “I see.” Chief O’Brian looked from her to Caleb, and her flush deepened. Now he was thinking exactly the wrong thing, supposing she’d made an excuse to walk with Caleb. But to say anything more would just make things worse.

  Fortunately, Chief O’Brian was distracted by a gesture from the officer on the porch. He rose, very authoritative in his gray uniform.

  “Well, I guess I won’t be bothering you good folks any longer. Mr. King, I’m sure you want to be getting your little girl home. Sara, sorry for the disruption.”

  Sara murmured something, she wasn’t sure what, just glad for the moment to see him leaving her classroom. He paused for a second on the porch to say something that made the girls giggle again, and then he and the young officer headed off toward the police car.

  Sara swung to face Caleb. “Why didn’t you tell Chief O’Brian the truth about Rachel?”

  Caleb’s strong-featured face tightened. “I didn’t lie to the man.”

  “You told him only part of the truth,” she snapped, keeping her voice low so that the children on the porch couldn’t hear. “And you involved me in saying less than the truth, as well.”

  Caleb had a remarkably stubborn jaw. “My child’s nightmares are not his business.”

  “It might be important that Rachel was so upset last night about the Old Man. It might mean...” Sara let that thought trickle to a stop, afraid of where it was going.

  “Ya.” His face was bleak. “It might mean that my Rachel saw something bad. And if so, it’s for me to deal with. Not you. And I’m certain sure not the police.”

  He stalked out of the schoolhouse, leaving Sara with nothing at all to say.

  *

  The gentle clink of plates accompanied the evening routine of helping her mamm with the dishes. Sara, her hands in the warm, soapy water, found the chore comforting after the stresses of the day.

  “I can finish up, Mamm, if you want.” Her mother looked a bit tired, but she wouldn’t want to hear Sara say so.

  “No need.” Her mother polished a plate with her usual vigor. “I don’t mind. I remember when you girls used to make so much noise with washing dishes I had to get away.”

  Sara smiled. True enough. When she and Trudy and Ruthie did the dishes, they’d chattered and laughed and argued the whole time. But now Trudy and Ruthie were married, as well as her two oldest brothers, and Trudy had twins on the way.

  Funny. Sara, the oldest, had been the first one to plan a wedding, but Tommy Brand had managed to postpone it for one reason or another for nearly five years. And when he did get married, it was to someone else.

  “I’m wonderful glad Caleb King was with you when you saw that poor man.” Mamm set a bowl on the shelf. “I wouldn’t like to think of you finding him all alone.”

  Mamm didn’t like to think of her doing anything alone. She was still trying to marry off her maidal daughter.

  “Ya, I’m glad he was there, too.” Sara kept her tone neutral. “Lily and Lovina had stayed after school to help, so they were there to watch his little girl.”

  “They’re gut girls, even if that Lily is a bit flighty,” Mamm said. “So, Caleb is a fine-looking man, ain’t so? And I hear Josiah King is wonderful glad to have his nephew there to help out while he’s laid up. Maybe Caleb will even decide to stay, ya?”

  “Stop matchmaking,” Sara said with mock severity. “I’m not looking for a husband.”

  “Ya, but they’re nice to have, all the same.” Her mother’s eyes twinkled.

  “And then who’d be here to help with the dishes?” Sara retorted, smiling. “If I—” She stopped at the sound of voices in the living room, where Daed had been settled in his favorite chair, reading The Budget, the Amish newspaper.

  She exchanged glances with her mother. “That sounds like Chief O’Brian.”

  “You’ll be wanted, then, ain’t so?” Mamm handed her a towel. “Dry your hands and hurry in.”

  Sara touched her hair to be sure it went smoothly under her white organdy kapp and shook out the apron that matched her green dress. She reached the living room just as her daed called out for her.

  “Chief O’Brian is here to talk about that poor man you found.” Daed pushed his glasses up on his nose, looking as if he wished anyone else had been the finder.

  “Nothing to be alarmed about, Eli,” the chief said easily, maybe aware of Daed’s tendency to be upset about the Englisch world intruding on their lives. “I thought you’d want to be up-to-date about what was going on.”

  “It’s kind of you,” Mamm said, a swift look at her husband reminding him to be hospitable. “You’ll have some coffee and maybe a piece of apple pie, ya?”

  “That sounds fine, Emma.” Chief O’Brian’s expression relaxed, something that was the usual result of Mamm’s warm friendliness.

  Sara gestured him to the sofa and took the rocking chair, waiting for him to begin and hoping it wouldn’t be questions about Caleb or Rachel.

  “Well, we identified t
he man who died,” he said, setting his cap on his knees. “His name was Jase Kovatch.”

  “Kovatch.” Daed pronounced the name carefully. “I can’t say as I know him.”

  “No, don’t suppose you would. The police did, and that’s not exactly a recommendation,” Chief O’Brian said.

  “He’d been in trouble, then?” Sara asked.

  The chief nodded. “Minor stuff, mostly. Drunk driving, petty pilfering. No family that we can find, and I can’t see as anyone’s going to miss him much except maybe some of his drinking buddies.”

  “That is a sad way to live.” Mamm set a mug of steaming coffee and a big wedge of apple pie topped with vanilla ice cream on the end table next to him.

  “Sure is.” Chief O’Brian took a bite of pie and spoke thickly around it. “I just can’t figure out what he was doing up on the ridge to begin with.”

  “Small-game season,” Daed said promptly. “Out after rabbits, maybe.”

  The chief shook his head. “No gun,” he said succinctly.

  Sara’s mind chased after reasons for the man to be out there and came up empty. This time of year, people went into the woods with shotguns, looking for small game. Bird-watchers and nature lovers were sensible enough not to wander through the woods during hunting season, especially not when deer season started next month. Then all the hunting cabins would be filled to bursting.

  She realized the room had fallen silent. Chief O’Brian was looking at her.

  “I can’t think of anything that would take the man up there,” she said, hoping she hadn’t missed a question.

  “You haven’t seen him around? Noticed anyone maybe taking an interest in the school, for instance?”

  “No.” She could only shake her head, perplexed. “Why?”

  O’Brian shrugged. “I went up top today, along with a couple of men. We didn’t find anything unexpected. But I noticed one thing about that place.” He paused, looking grave. “It has the best view a person could have of your schoolhouse.”

  His words sank in, and alarm ricocheted along Sara’s nerves. She didn’t need to look around the room to know that they were all thinking the same thing.

  Everyone wanted to believe that their corner of the world was safe. Unfortunately, danger was not limited to the back alleys of big cities. Even innocent schoolchildren weren’t safe from evil in the world.

  “Now, I don’t want you folks to get all upset about it,” Chief O’Brian said. “If this fellow... Well, he’s dead now. But I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t mention it, just in case.”

  Sara nodded. “Danki, Chief O’Brian. If I see anything out of the ordinary, I’ll let you know right away.”

  He seemed satisfied, turning back to his pie, but Sara couldn’t let go of it so easily.

  Tomorrow was the semiannual auction held to support the school, and every Amish person in the area, as well as plenty of Englisch, would be on the school grounds for the event. Including, she hoped, Caleb King. She had to confront him about what he hadn’t told Chief O’Brian. She must make him understand that if Rachel had seen anything, she had to speak.

  THREE

  “The playground certain sure looks different today, ain’t so?” Caleb tried to keep his voice cheerful as he and Rachel neared the auction on Saturday. Auctions were a common way of raising money for Amish schools, valued as much for their fellowship as for their fund-raising.

  Rachel clung a little tighter to his hand. “Ya,” she murmured.

  “We’ll bring something to Onkel Josiah when we leave, ya? Maybe a funnel cake or an apple dumpling.” Onkel Josiah had declined to come, since he was still hobbling around on crutches and fretting over his broken leg.

  Caleb’s voice sounded unnatural, even to himself, but maybe Rachel didn’t notice. At least she was staring, wide-eyed, at the tents and canopies that had sprung up overnight on the school grounds. Besides the auction going on inside the big tent, there were plenty of improvised stands selling food and drink, which seemed about as popular as the auction itself.

  A couple of Englisch teenagers passed them, and Rachel shrank against him. He put a hand protectively on her shoulder, a wave of dread washing over him. He’d been so sure this move would be good for his Rachel. Instead, it seemed to be having the opposite effect.

  Onkel Josiah’s offer had seemed a godsend. Caleb had been so eager to get Rachel away from the sad memories of her mother. But instead of making things better...

  The thought trailed off when he saw Teacher Sara coming toward them. She was holding the hand of a little girl who looked about Rachel’s age.

  Sara met his gaze and smiled, showing a dimple at the corner of her lips. With her rosy cheeks and those dancing green eyes, she looked hardly old enough to be a teacher, but he knew from Onkel Josiah that she was only a year or two younger than he was.

  She and the little girl came to a stop in front of them while he was still trying to decide if her hair was blond or brown or something in between. As if aware of his thoughts, she smoothed her hair back under her kapp with one hand.

  “Look, Becky, here’s Rachel. Now you’ll have someone just your age to walk around with.” Sara’s gaze met Caleb’s. “This is my niece, Becky, my brother’s girl. She’s been longing for another girl to walk around with, instead of her brothers.”

  He nodded to the child, who had a pert, lively face and hair a shade darker than Sara’s. Becky grinned at him and grabbed Rachel’s hand.

  “Komm, schnell, Rachel. Aunt Sara said she’d get me a treat but I must look at everything before I decide. You can help me.”

  Rachel clung to his hand a moment longer, but at an encouraging nod from her teacher, she let go. The two girls started off together.

  “Don’t get too far away from us, ya?” Sara cautioned.

  Becky nodded, already chattering away to Rachel about the relative merits of a funnel cake or an ice-cream cone.

  “Danki,” he said softly. “It’s kind of you to think of helping Rachel get to know your niece.”

  “I thought Rachel might feel more at home with a friend,” Sara said. “She already knows Becky a little from school. And our Becky is such a chatterbox. She talks enough to charm a turtle out of its shell.”

  “Rachel isn’t a turtle, but she does have a shell,” he admitted, impelled by a need to explain something he didn’t quite understand himself. “Her mother was sick so long—” His voice seemed to stick there. “She passed not quite a year ago. Rachel hasn’t had much of a childhood.”

  “That must have been so hard on both of you.” Sara’s eyes were warm with sympathy.

  “Ya.” He struggled to find words. “I hoped a fresh start, away from all the reminders of her mamm, would help her forget about the past.”

  “But she can’t—” Sara began. Then she paused, seeming to censor what she was about to say. “I’m sorry it’s been a difficult beginning for her here.”

  A burst of laughter came from the auction tent. Sara glanced in that direction, smiling at the sound. “Josh Davis is a fine auctioneer. He always gets the crowd into a buying mood.” She turned back to him. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Ya?” They were as isolated in the noisy crowd as anywhere, he supposed. “Has something happened?”

  “The chief came to our house last night. They know the man’s name now.” She shot a look at the girls and lowered her voice. “Jase Kovatch. The chief said he’d been in trouble with the police before.”

  Caleb nodded, frowning. The death of an unknown Englischer was sad, but nothing to do with them, surely.

  “The worrisome thing is that the police could find no reason for him to be up there on the cliff.” She took a breath, as if she didn’t want to say more. “The chief says there’s nothing much up there. Nothing but a good view of the school.”

  She didn’t say any more. She didn’t need to. There wasn’t an Amish person alive who didn’t know about the Amish schoolchildren who’d died at the ha
nds of an Englischer.

  “That’s bad, that is.” He fought to speak through the tightness in his throat. “But since the man is dead, there’s no call to worry, ya?”

  Sara’s expression said she wasn’t convinced of that. “Maybe. But we don’t know for sure. If there’s any danger to the kinner— Caleb, don’t you see you must speak to the police about Rachel’s fears?”

  “No.” His response was instantaneous. “I won’t have my child involved in this.”

  “But—”

  He cut off her protest by grabbing her wrist. He felt her pulse thunder against his palm and released her just as quickly.

  “She is my child. It is for me to say. And I say no.”

  They stood so for a moment, their eyes challenging each other, and the noise surrounding them seemed to fade away. He felt... He wasn’t sure what he felt.

  Before he could decide, a voice called Sara’s name. They turned away from each other, and he wondered if Sara was as relieved as he was.

  “Teacher Sara.” The speaker was Silas Weaver, leader of the school board. Behind him stood another man, an older Englischer who seemed vaguely familiar.

  Silas nodded to Caleb in greeting before turning to Sara. “I need a word.” He made it sound like an order.

  “I will keep an eye on Becky,” Caleb said. “Take your time.”

  He moved off after the girls, just as glad to have this uncomfortable conversation interrupted. Teacher Sara seemed to have a knack for eliciting all sorts of feelings in him, and he didn’t have room in his life for that.

  *

  Sara had to push down her instinctive reluctance to talk to Silas Weaver. She didn’t have a choice. He was president of her school board. Unfortunately, he also possessed a stern, disapproving temperament that didn’t make him easy to deal with.

  She tried to manage a smile as she joined the man. “The auction is going well, ain’t so?”

  He grunted, casting a disapproving gaze at the tent. “We’ll be lucky to end up with enough to cover our costs for a few more months. Folks don’t realize how expensive it is to run a school.”

  Sara was well aware of Silas’s reluctance to spend money on the school other than necessary repairs. She’d had more than one clash with him and come off the loser. The other two board members seemed as cowed by Silas as his own kinner were.