A Rose Revealed (The Amish Farm Trilogy 3)

by Gayle Roper

  I was appalled at the piercing shaft of agony and desire that exploded in my chest at the thought of living here. I hadn’t known that I was that needy. I had always prided myself on my independence, my ability to cope in spite of the hard things in my life. But let a family show me a little affection, and I wanted to wallow in it like a pig in slops. I wanted Mary to hover and Esther to make me tea and Jake to—. I stopped that thought before it got away from me.

  And if this craving to be part of the Zooks was this strong after only two days, what would it become over a longer period of time?

  Jake was still trying to sell me on the apartment. “Just think. You could talk with Mom and Esther all you wanted. They’d like you to stay.”

  My heart warmed. “Really? Are you sure?”

  “And you’d be close enough to keep an eye on Becky and the baby. You know how concerned you are about them.”

  The emotion in my chest kept expanding, pressing against my ribs, my lungs, my spine until I could barely stand the anguished pleasure. I recognized it with a jolt as hope, hope that there might be people who actually liked me, who actually cared about me even when I acted foolishly and was unlovely.

  And I was sore afraid. I swallowed hard, trying to curb my disproportionate reaction to a conversation about an apartment.

  How could I move from my safe place just because of people? I’d always done things for sound reasons like getting better trained or preventing someone’s death. But to do something based on emotion, especially emotional need—how foolish was that! It was terrifying and so very attractive at the same time.

  Unconsciously I began rubbing the ache in my chest. I decided that hope was this painful because it was so new and because I didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Besides,” Jake finished with a smile, “I need the rent money.”

  Rent money! I grabbed at the idea. I could deal with something so practical, so real, so un-hope-ish.

  “You need the money, huh?” I eyed him like the money was the only reason I’d consider his apartment.

  He nodded, looking optimistic. He must have seen something in my face that gave him reason to expect an affirmative answer.

  “Then I’ll take the rooms. I do like it here, and I like your family. And I certainly want you to have the money for next semester’s tuition. I just hadn’t been expecting to make such a large contribution.”

  “Good!” He seemed to release some pent-up tension and relax. “Mom and Esther will be delighted.”

  And you, I wondered. Are you pleased for any reason other than the rent?

  “So let’s go get your stuff.”

  “Now? This very minute?”

  “Sure. Why not? Why should you go back there to sleep if you like it here?”

  Why indeed.

  “You’re going to help me?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I’ll drive.”

  “That’s it?”

  He looked at me blankly.

  “You don’t get off that easily,” I said. “I’ll bring everything down to the porch. You’ll take it to the van. It’s called cooperation.”

  He looked at me, his black eyes thoughtful. “You’re good for me, you know that?“

  It was my turn to be pleased, very pleased. Too pleased? I ran upstairs for my coat before I could reconsider my decision.

  Jake and I were out front when Esther walked into the drive. Her eyes were fixed on the ground.

  “Hey, Esther,” I called. “Guess what? I’m moving in for good. I’m renting the apartment.”

  She jumped and looked up. “That’s wonderful,” she said without enthusiasm. She had her arms wrapped tightly across her body as if she were in pain. It would be hard to imagine an Esther more unlike the spirited competitor of last night.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, moving to her side. I was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

  “Is Elam here?” She looked at the house.

  “In his room,” Jake said.

  Her eyes shifted to the window in the far right corner. “He left right after service without eating or anything.”

  “Mary Clare?” Jake asked softly.

  A tear fell onto her lovely cheek. “Yes. And Young Joe Lapp. They marry in two weeks.”

  “Go talk with him,” Jake said. “Maybe he’ll finally see what’s right in front of his nose.”

  “I don’t know,” Esther said. “I’ve been talking to myself the whole way up the road. Should I? Shouldn’t I? What is right? And I don’t know. I’ve prayed and prayed and I still don’t know.”

  “I wish I knew what to tell you,” I said, my heart aching for her.

  “I wish I knew what to tell him.” She turned bleak eyes to me. “But what can I say to a man whose heart has just been broken?”

  Neither Jake nor I spoke. Finally she sighed.

  “I can say nothing.” And she turned and began to walk disconsolately back toward the Stoltzfus farm. Suddenly she turned and broke into a run and rushed into the barn.

  I started to go after her but Jake caught my arm.

  “Let her alone,” he said. “She needs to cry, and she needs to do it in private.”

  I nodded. “Can I go kick Elam in the shins?”

  Jake smiled but his eyes were sad. “I think he’s as distraught as she is. Maybe you should have a bit of sympathy for him too.”

  “Probably. But she’s such a wonderful girl!”

  “You can’t control who people love. Come on. Let’s go.”

  I watched him lock his chair onto the van’s lift. You sure can’t.

  Chapter 7

  When I opened the door to my apartment, I was greeted with the stale smell that comes from a house being closed up too long. Not that this odor was new to me. It greeted me every day when I returned from work or even if I just walked downstairs to check the mailbox.

  I had decided it was the nasty orange shag rug left over from the ’60s. It looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years, though I rented one of those rug machines at the grocery store not long after I moved in. I discovered that a wet rug smells much worse than a dry rug, whatever’s hidden in it. I gave up trying to clean the thing and made it a point never to go barefooted anywhere in the place, not even in the shower.

  I wrinkled my nose as I walked across to my desk. I would not miss that odor any more than I’d miss the rusting refrigerator, the avocado green sink, the unbelievably ugly kitchen linoleum, and the lumpy sofa.

  In fact, I wouldn’t miss anything but the proximity to the Squad, which was why I took the place to begin with and why I stayed here. And the rent. It was by far the cheapest place I’d ever looked at, including the farm.

  But enough was enough. It was time to move on. The farm wasn’t all that far from the Squad, maybe three minutes farther. I bet I’d still beat Harry. And my rooms there were light and open and clean. The rug there was a lovely hand-braided oval and there wasn’t an avocado appliance on the premises.

  I glanced at my answering machine, which sat on the corner of the desk, and saw the message light blinking. I had ten messages, it said. As I reached to hit the play button, I tried to imagine ten people who wanted to talk to me. I couldn’t.

  The first message was from Lem Huber, the Lancaster cop. “Please call.” He gave his number, and I wrote it down. As I stuffed the paper in my pocket, my mother’s voice broke the silence with all the gentleness of a pneumatic drill.

  “Rose Grayson Martin! What have you done now? Call me immediately.”

  What have you done now? I hadn’t the vaguest idea. I waited for the third message.

  “Rose, call me immediately.” Mom again, her voice tense but not quite as angry. “If you need a lawyer, I know who to call.”

  I blinked. Why would I need a lawyer? My lease wasn’t that tight. And she didn’t know I was moving.

  “Rose, you’re upsetting me! How could you get involved in something so, so…Well, how could you?”

  How could I indeed. I had no id
ea what she was talking about.

  “Have you skipped town, Rose? Is that it? You’ve run away without even telling your mother you were leaving?”

  That message gave me pause. I hadn’t told her I was staying the weekend at the Zooks. But literally speaking, that wasn’t skipping town. It was still Bird-in-Hand. Somehow I didn’t think that’s what she was referring to.

  “Rose, I’m getting scared now.” I could hear a distinct tremor in her voice. “They were here looking for you. I didn’t know what to tell them. I don’t want to make things worse for you. Rose, if you hear me, please, please call.”

  I blinked. Mom had abandoned her general-commanding-the-troops persona of the first message for that of a very upset, no, distraught, mother hen, certain the sky has fallen on her chick. Was she upset about me and whatever she thought was my problem? The thought warmed me. Or about them coming to her house, whoever they were?

  “Rose, it’s me,” Mom literally sobbed in her next message. “Please call. I’m dying here.” I stared at the answering machine. My mother? Crying? About me?

  There were two more frantic messages from Mom and another from Lem Huber.

  I decided to call my mother first.

  “Rose, oh, Rose!” She started to cry when she heard my voice. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried!”

  “Mom, I’m fine.” I tried not to let exasperation sound in my voice even though I thought she was overreacting a tad to the absence of a return telephone call. “Truly I am.”

  “No,” she said. “You’re just saying that so I won’t worry. I know you are.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “They’re looking for you. I heard it on the radio and saw it on TV. And they were here.”

  I’d never worried about my mother’s mental stability before, but I did now. She made it sound like a posse of extraterrestrials was after me.

  “The police. They were here looking for you.”

  “Oh, that. I know. I just got a message to call them.”

  “Don’t do it without a lawyer,” Mom said. “I’ve seen enough cop shows to know you need a lawyer. And make sure they read you your rights.”

  “Mom! What are you thinking! I’m not under arrest.”

  “I don’t know, Rose. The TV even showed your picture and said they were searching for you as a ‘person of interest.’ A person of interest! They probably have an APB out. You know what that means.”

  “Mom, easy. There’s no all points bulletin out on me.”

  “Guns,” she said, ignoring me. “Lots of them! Shootouts. High speed car chases. Oh, Rose. They’re going to shoot you!”

  I actually pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it in disbelief. “Mom, calm down and think for a minute. Ask yourself if that conclusion is at all logical. Why in the world would they shoot me?”

  “Because of the bombs!”

  “What bombs?”

  “You know! That family that got blown up. And you were there!”

  “Because of the Hostetters?”

  “That’s the name!”

  “It was a bomb?” I felt dazed. A bomb? It couldn’t have been a bomb. Bombs were set on purpose. Bombs were evil and ugly.

  Bombs were murder.

  Suddenly I was sitting on the ugly orange rug, my hand over my heart. Sophie and Ammon hadn’t been killed in a freak explosion. Someone had premeditated their deaths.

  I think on some deep level I always knew it was a bomb that exploded. Cars didn’t just go boom! I knew that. But the truth was so devastating that I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. Now I had no choice. My stomach curdled, and I swallowed several times to keep from being ill.

  Another thought struck me between the eyes. I was the closest thing they had to a witness!

  “Look, Mom,” I managed. “I’ve got to call the police. I’m sorry you’ve been worried about me. If I had known about the TV and radio announcements, I’d have called right away. But I truly am fine.”

  “But where have you been?” she asked.

  “I spent the weekend with friends on their farm because I didn’t want to be alone after all the emotion of the explosions.” I noted that I couldn’t bring myself to say bomb.

  “You should have come here,” she said.

  Not quite the comforting atmosphere I’d needed. “They were closer. In fact, I’m moving there permanently even as we speak. They have an apartment I’m renting.”

  “An apartment on a farm. That sounds nice,” Mom said, approving. “What’s their phone number?”

  “They don’t have a number. They’re Amish. But you have my cell phone number until I get my land line connected. I think I can have a phone in my apartment.”

  “You’re not becoming Amish, are you, Rose?” She spoke with hushed horror.

  “Of course not, Mom.”

  “I’ve worried about you doing something like that for years, ever since your father and sister died. Sort of like penance, you know?”

  The thought of my mother worrying about me like that was so beyond my comprehension that I had no response. Equally strange was the notion of joining a sect as penance, no matter how nice the people were. The idea had never crossed my mind.

  “Look, I’ve got to go,” I said.

  “Call me, Rose,” she pleaded. “As soon as you’re finished with the police, call me. I’ll just worry myself sick until I hear from you.”

  As I put the phone back in its cradle, I heard Jake calling for me.

  “Rose! Rose! Come down here a minute. I need to talk with you!”

  I picked myself up off the floor and went down to him.

  “You’re on the radio,” he said. “The police are looking for you.”

  I nodded. “I just spoke to my mother and she told me. There was also a message to call the police. I was just getting ready to do so.”

  Jake looked at me in a way that made me nervous.

  “What?”

  “You need to know there’s been another bombing.”

  My heart stopped. “What? Who?”

  “Peter Hostetter’s car.”

  I stared at him in disbelief.

  “But Peter wasn’t in it at the time,” he hastened to say.

  I sagged against the porch post in relief. “What is going on here? Evil Ernie?”

  Jake took my hand and began patting it. “Who in the world is Evil Ernie?”

  “Peter’s uncle. Sophie’s brother-in-law. And he wants the company.” I straightened. “I’ve got to tell Lem.”

  I pulled my cell phone from my belt, read the paper with Lem Huber’s number, and punched it in.

  “Well, Rose,” Lem said when we were finally connected. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “So I hear.” I cleared my throat nervously. “I’m sorry. I’ve been visiting friends for the weekend and haven’t listened to the radio or seen a TV.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sorry it ever got into the news. It never should have. They made you sound like you were a suspect or something.”

  “A person of interest which is code for suspect. But I’m not, right?”

  “But you’re not. Unless you’ve got some deep, dark secrets we haven’t discovered yet?” He sounded almost hopeful.

  I thought of Dad and Rhoda, but I knew that wasn’t what he meant. “No secrets, deep or dark or otherwise. I’m a very uninteresting person.”

  I heard Jake snort.

  “I originally called to make certain you came in and signed your statement,” Lem said. “Then when we couldn’t find you, we began to get concerned for your safety. We are, after all, dealing with a murderer here, and a nasty one. Somehow a reporter got wind of your name and took it from there.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I doubt there’s any harm done. I’ll stop in some time tomorrow to sign my statement.”

  I closed the phone.

  “It was a bomb,” I said, shaking my head. “Who would want to kill nice people like Sophie and Ammon? And Peter?”

  “They were
rich, weren’t they?”

  I ran my hand through my hair. “Sure, but….”

  “But nothing. Money’s one of the big motives for murder. Everyone knows that. Who in the family would benefit most?”

  “I don’t know. Evil Ernie?”

  We were quiet for a minute, thinking about greedy people, family fortunes, and murder.

  Jake slapped his knees. “One thing I don’t have to worry about is someone killing me for my money. I haven’t got any. Now let’s get you moved so I can start building my fortune with your rent.”

  We got to work. I went up to my apartment, accessible only by stairs, filled a box or suitcase, brought it down, and gave it to Jake. He took it to the van and loaded it. In no time we developed a good rhythm. We finished much more quickly that I expected.

  I was bringing down one of my last loads when a loud voice said, “And just what do you think you’re doing, young woman?”

  I looked up to see my landlord, a round, cherry-cheeked man who looked like St. Nick and had the disposition of the Grinch.

  “Hello, Mr. Metz.” I smiled warmly at him, hoping to thaw his demeanor some. No such luck.

  “Are you moving, Miss Martin? Or are you officially running from the police?”

  “Mr. Metz!” I looked at him in astonishment. “What a terrible thing to say.”

  “Don’t give me your wide-eyed innocent stare, Rose Martin.” He glared at me as he shook his forefinger under my nose. “I heard all about you on TV.”

  “An inaccurate report,” I said quietly.

  He either didn’t hear me or made believe he didn’t. He continued without taking a breath, “I had the cops here all weekend looking for you.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Metz. I’ve been staying with friends.” I indicated Jake, who had returned from the van for another load.

  Mr. Metz glanced at Jake, and then rounded on me. “Visiting friends. So that’s what they call it these days.”

  It took a minute for his implications to sink in. Then I was so furious that my voice shook.

  “Be careful what you say, Mr. Metz, because you are very wrong.”

  “Right,” he said sarcastically.

  “Mr. Metz.” Jake’s voice could have frozen the Caribbean. “My name is Jake Zook. My family and I have been pleased to have Rose as our guest this weekend. We are delighted that she has decided to move to an apartment that we rent, though why she would want to leave such a considerate and kind landlord as you is hard to imagine.” He smiled with such disdain that even obtuse Mr. Metz felt the insult.