Plain Peril

by Alison Stone

  Hannah tipped her head. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. But she didn’t count on her lawyer boyfriend going into law enforcement.”

  “Why did you? I mean, when you could have made more money as a lawyer.”

  “I wasn’t happy practicing law. I wanted to get out there and do something directly to help people. As much as my dad grumbled about his job as a cop, I admired him. I know some lawyers find a way to help people, but I wanted to be a cop since I was a kid. My father pushed me to be a lawyer. Then my girlfriend pushed me to stay a lawyer. When I passed the officer exam and entered the police academy, she thought it was a phase. Our relationship didn’t survive my new career.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His smile made her forget her troubles. “I’m not. All our choices send us down a path. The road might be littered with obstacles, but if things came too easily, we might not appreciate them.” He lifted an eyebrow. “God has a plan.”

  “God has a plan,” she repeated. “You seem to have had a change of heart yourself.” Warmth blossomed in Hannah’s heart.

  “You’ve been a positive influence on me. I never knew someone with such strong faith in times of adversity. You made me reexamine my own faith.”

  She tilted her head and smiled. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  Half of Spencer’s mouth quirked into a smile. He leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to her lips. She reached up and cupped his cheek, scratchy from his five o’clock shadow. She pulled back and smiled. “Why does everything have to be so complicated?”

  A twinkle lit his eyes in the dim light. “Want the absolute truth?”

  Her heart beat loudly in her ears. “Can I handle the truth?” She laughed, an awkward squeak.

  “I have never met anyone quite like you, and I need to open my heart to you.”

  Hannah’s mouth went dry.

  “I don’t want you to be baptized Amish. I don’t want you to leave Apple Creek. I want to see if this—” he waved his hand between them “—is going anywhere.”

  “I...” Hannah couldn’t think straight.

  Spencer held up his hand. “But in the end, you have to make the best decision for you.”

  Her heart beat wildly. “And the girls,” she whispered.

  “And the girls,” he repeated, a look of hope in his eyes. “No one can define you. Only you should be able to define you. If it’s in God’s plans, I want to be part of your life.”

  ELEVEN

  On his morning off, Spencer ran over to the bakery and picked up cinnamon rolls for Hannah and the girls. He also grabbed coffee.

  He whistled as he strolled up the walk. Mrs. Greene was sitting on the porch knitting. “You seem very chipper today.”

  “If I had known you’d be up so early, I would have bought you a coffee.”

  She tapped the handle of her teacup. “I’m having a spot of tea.”

  Spencer put down the bag and cup holder and sat across from Mrs. Greene. “How are you today?”

  “I didn’t sleep well last night. I heard you and Hannah talking in the stairwell.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She waved him off. “No worries. I’m an old lady. We don’t sleep well anyway.” She tucked in her chin and studied him for a minute. “Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t listening. I heard your voices, not the details of your conversation. I had to make sure no one was up to no good.”

  He smiled.

  “You and the Amish girl are getting close.” It was more a statement than a question.

  “Hannah’s not Amish.”

  “She grew up Amish, she’ll always be Amish in her heart.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Oh, I’ve seen plenty of young Amish people get caught up with Englischers. That’s what they call us. They always go back to their community.”

  “Always?”

  “From what I can see from my corner of the world.” She took a long sip of her tea.

  Hannah stepped onto the porch with her nieces. Hannah and Spencer locked gazes, and something zinged his heart. Oh, he was in deep. Mrs. Greene cleared her throat. He shifted his gaze to hers. “But what do I know. My corner of the world is pretty small.”

  He felt himself smile. Then he remembered the cinnamon buns and coffee. He got to his feet. “I brought you breakfast.”

  Hannah rested her hands on the backs of each girl’s head. Emma smiled brightly whereas Sarah seemed shy, but not quite so angry anymore. “How nice of you. We were going into town. It’s a beautiful morning.”

  Mrs. Greene stood and gathered her teacup and breakfast dish. “Please, all of you, sit and enjoy the porch. I have some chores to do.”

  “Don’t let us chase you away,” Hannah said.

  Mrs. Greene waved as she was inclined to do. “I’ll enjoy relaxing out here once I know my chores are done.” Spencer held the screen door open for her.

  He pulled out the napkins and put them in front of two spots at the small table tucked in the corner. Hannah took the coffee from him and inhaled deeply. “This is wonderful.” He pulled out a roll with a napkin and handed it to her. “Thanks so much.”

  As they enjoyed their breakfast, a man dressed in a suit walked up the pathway. Everyone stopped eating and watched him. Spencer met him at the bottom of the steps.

  Spencer crossed his arms and widened his stance. “Can I help you?”

  The man’s gaze shifted toward Hannah. “I’m looking for Miss Wittmer.”

  Hannah stood. “I’m Miss Wittmer.”

  The man stepped forward, his hand outstretched, then seemed to think better of it. “I’m Frank Jones, a lawyer with Jones and Jones.” He tipped his head. “My father,” he added, clarifying the second Jones, a question he must have been asked a lot.

  “How can we help you, Mr. Jones?” Spencer shifted his stance to block Jones from advancing on Hannah.

  “I have been retained by the Lapp family.”

  Hannah swiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “I don’t understand. Why?”

  “They plan to gain custody of their nieces.” He reached into his pocket and consulted a piece of paper. “A Sarah and Emma Lapp.”

  Spencer felt a muscle working in his jaw. “Mr. Jones, as you can see, we’re enjoying breakfast. Perhaps you can speak to Miss Wittmer—” he tipped his head toward the little girls “—at a more appropriate time.”

  “When would be a more...ah...appropriate time?”

  Spencer dug into his back pocket and opened his wallet. He extracted a business card and handed it to Mr. Jones. “Contact me at this number, and we’ll arrange an appointment.”

  A smug look settled on Mr. Jones’s features. “Can’t Miss Wittmer speak for herself?”

  “You heard the sheriff. You need to go through him to get to me.” Hannah stepped down onto the walkway. “And you can tell the Lapps that I will never hand over these girls. I’m surprised they would even employ a lawyer.”

  Mr. Jones straightened his tie and seemed to stand a little straighter. “I offered to represent them pro bono.”

  Spencer’s eyebrows shot up. “You approached them?”

  “Their ignorance of the law makes them ripe targets to be taken advantage of.”

  “By you?” Spencer couldn’t hold back his retort. “No sense wasting an opportunity to get your name in the paper,” he mumbled.

  Mr. Jones lifted a thin eyebrow, never taking his gaze from Hannah’s face. Spencer fisted his hand. “Here’s my card.” The lawyer reached into the inner pocket of his suit coat and offered her his card. “I’ll be filing the paperwork this afternoon. I expect the judge to order you and the children not to leave town.”

  * * *

 
Hannah felt dizzy and her vision narrowed on the man’s cheap suit and bad comb-over as he sauntered down the walkway.

  “Can he do that?”

  Spencer turned to the girls. “Emma and Sarah, Mrs. Greene has a great tree for climbing over there.” He pointed to a low tree with thick branches sprouting from the earth like an octopus’s tentacles. “Why don’t you check it out?”

  Emma bolted down the porch steps. Spencer turned to Sarah. “Would you mind making sure your sister doesn’t fall out of the tree?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “You’re sending us away so you can talk in private.”

  “You’re right. We have grown-up things to figure out. Now go watch Emma. Thank you.”

  Sarah stuck out her lower lip. Her shoulders slumped and she stomped across the porch. Hannah let out a long sigh as she settled down on the wicker couch. “Ah...she’ll fit into the English world, yet. And to think she’s just a preteen.” She shook her head.

  Spencer sat across from her. Hannah watched Emma straddle a branch only five feet off the ground. Sarah leaned against the trunk and crossed her arms.

  “I know nothing about raising kids in the Amish world, or in this one.”

  Spencer gave her a look of approval. “You didn’t do too badly just now.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  “You knew eventually the courts would have to get involved to decide guardianship for the girls...now that John’s body has been found.”

  “I didn’t think the Lapps would use the court system against me. They’re going to fight me on this. It’s not the Amish way.” She placed her palms together and tucked them between her knees. “You were a lawyer once. How likely are they to gain custody?”

  “I didn’t practice family law. But I can contact someone in Buffalo who can help you.” He reached over and patted her knee. “This Jones guy probably read about your brother-in-law’s death in the paper and the circumstances surrounding your sister’s death and thought he’d make a name for himself.”

  “I’m going to have to get a job and get the girls enrolled in school if I hope to stand a chance of gaining permanent custody. Classes start in a few days.”

  Spencer met her gaze. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Raise my sister’s daughters?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course.” She couldn’t understand why Spencer was asking her this.

  “You could give them to the Lapps. I’m sure they’d do well by them.”

  “My sister wanted me to make sure they were cared for.”

  “What if making sure they were cared for meant giving them to another family? An Amish family.”

  Hannah pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips. “I’ve thought a lot about it. The girls would be better off with me than with the Lapps.” She thought back to how stern Fannie Mae had been with the girls. How rigid Lester seemed. Was there anything wrong with being strict? Good parents were strict.

  “Sometimes when you do something because you think it’s the right thing, you become resentful,” he said.

  “You know this from experience?”

  “Exactly. I had so many people around me, demanding things from me. It was only after I took this job in Apple Creek that I finally felt like I was doing what I was meant to do.”

  “You are blessed.” She closed her eyes briefly, then looked at Spencer. “Growing up Amish, you don’t think as a kid about what you’re supposed to do in life. You’re expected to toe the line. Live life much as your parents did. You generally don’t walk around wondering what you should do with your life to make you happy.”

  Spencer laughed. “Cuts down on a lot of the teenage angst.”

  Hannah couldn’t help but laugh in response. “Not exactly. My father was always hard on me. Harder than he was on Ruthie. My mother recently told me why.” She shrugged. “I don’t want to betray my mem’s confidence, but growing up, feeling like I could do no right, makes me want to do the right thing for my nieces. I need to raise them.” She threaded her fingers and squeezed. “I know with certainty that I need to raise these girls. I pray God gives me the wisdom to help them through the transition from farm life to—” she held up her hands “—to this life.”

  Spencer smiled brightly. “Looks like you have your answer.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You baited me. You wanted to force me to realize what I wanted to do.”

  Smiling, he lifted his hands. “You got me. Now you can stop questioning yourself.”

  “Yes, it’s time I stopped waffling.”

  “Will you stay in Apple Creek?” She thought she noticed a bit of eager anticipation in his voice.

  “I want to be here for Mem. I can’t leave her.” Indecision weighed on her. “As it is, I feel horrible about leaving her alone on the farm.” She rubbed her hand along the back of her neck. “My mem is a much stronger woman than I ever gave her credit for. She made sacrifices in the hopes of giving me a better life. Besides, I have to stay until Emma and Sarah’s guardianship is resolved.”

  Spencer stood and leaned over, brushing a kiss on her warm forehead.

  A little girl’s laugh made her look up. Emma was covering her mouth, stifling a giggle. Spencer strolled over and ruffled Emma’s hair. “What’s so funny, little one?”

  Emma spun around, her skirt billowing in a colorful cloud and she raced away from Spencer and joined her sister by the tree.

  * * *

  Later that day, Spencer drove Hannah and her nieces to the Lapp farm to visit Mrs. Wittmer. He had to go to the farm anyway to meet a fire investigator.

  “I’ll be out back.” Spencer tipped his head toward the charred structure that once was the Lapps’ barn. Chief Fire Investigator Carl Owen’s truck was already parked alongside the barn. Spencer had called his old friend from Buffalo to help him pin down the cause of the fire.

  “Okay.” A faint smile played on Hannah’s lips. “I’ll take the girls in to see their granny.”

  Spencer cupped her elbow. “I can take you guys home whenever you want.”

  “Thank you.” Hannah stretched and brushed a kiss on his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Spencer was about to say something witty when Sarah called out impatiently, “Come on, Aunt Hannah.” Emma ran ahead to her grandmother’s door.

  Hannah shrugged, a hint of embarrassment glistened in her eyes. She turned and followed her nieces inside.

  Spencer strode across the yard to the barn. He stopped at the edge of the structure, not trusting that it would be sound. The smell of charred wood hung in the air.

  “Ah, you made it.” Carl came around the corner, a clipboard in his hand.

  Spencer extended his hand. “Thanks for driving in from Buffalo. I appreciate it.”

  “What’s all the fuss about a barn fire?” Carl gave him a who’s-the-girl smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for a nice Amish girl?”

  Spencer laughed. “Does she look Amish?” He decided to be purposely vague. Most of his friends from Buffalo had razzed him when he told them he was moving to Apple Creek. Amish country.

  “Not exactly,” Carl had to admit.

  Spencer tipped his chin toward the barn. “What did you find?”

  “Patterns of an accelerant on the wood. The fire was set intentionally.”

  Spencer’s shoulders tensed. “Not a case of someone tipping over a kerosene lamp?”

  “Not unless the person shook the kerosene lamp before dropping it.” Carl stepped inside the footprint of the barn and pointed to darker marks on the partial walls. “See, that’s where the accelerant raced across the walls. Look around. A barn is ripe for a devastating fire.” Carl tucked his pen in his shirt pocket. “Got some leads on this one?”

  “Maybe.” Samuel had
claimed he saw John Lapp at the barn shortly before it went up in flames. However, a dead man wasn’t able to give up secrets.

  “The owner of the house had been out here asking questions. Before you got here.”

  Spencer narrowed his gaze.

  Carl consulted something on his clipboard. “A guy named Lester Lapp.”

  “Hmm... He didn’t take long to claim ownership.”

  “Claimed he was moving in and had stopped by to make a few repairs.”

  Spencer ran a hand along his jaw, considering something. “Want to take a ride with me? Give me fresh eyes on something?”

  “Sure. I’ll follow you in my truck.”

  Spencer drove over to the Fisher’s home and parked along the road. The two men climbed the porch steps, their boots creaking on the planks. Through the screen door Rebecca could be heard pleading with someone.

  He held up his hand to silence Carl who looked like he was about to make a crack about the Amish.

  “Neh, neh...” Rebecca pleaded. “You cannot...”

  Alarmed that a domestic situation was getting out of control, Spencer knocked loudly on the door. It grew quiet inside.

  Too quiet.

  “Mrs. Fisher, it’s Sheriff Maxwell.”

  “Go away,” she hollered.

  “Is everything okay in there?”

  A rustling sounded from inside the log home. He could hear hushed whispers from deep in the house. All his senses went on high alert.

  “Mrs. Fisher, I need you to come to the door. Now.” Spencer pointed to the side of the house. Carl nodded and backed off the porch.

  A second later, Rebecca appeared at the door, smoothing her hand along her bonnet. The panic and worry in her eyes had him searching the entryway behind her.

  “Who were you talking to?”

  Rebecca studied the hardwood floor at her feet.

  “Is your husband home?”

  The young woman’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with fear, definitely fear. “Oh, no. Willard’s not home.” She glanced around Spencer, and her eyes landed on Carl standing in the front yard. “My husband should be home soon. You’re only making things worse. Please leave, he doesn’t like to deal with outsiders.”