by Kelly Irvin
Laura pulled a clipboard from a shelf under the counter and handed it to Mary Katherine. Clipped to it was the schedule for the next week. Mary Katherine accepted it with what she hoped was a willing smile. “Is that how you felt when you moved into the dawdy haus?”
“Last Tuesday I held my latest great-great-grandchild in my arms only ten minutes after she was born.” Laura’s delight at the memory made her look younger. Her eyes shone behind silver-rimmed glasses that matched her thick iron-gray hair. “Samuel and Victoria named her Rachel. She has a full head of brown hair and cheeks that remind me of Eli.”
“A sweet memory.” It didn’t seem to bother Laura that she no longer delivered babies. Nothing seemed to faze her, in fact. Mary Katherine longed to be as resilient. “How many does that make now?”
Laura grinned and tapped her fingers in the palm of one hand as if counting. “Four. That’s four great-great-grands, twenty-eight great-grands, fifty-two grands, and nine kinner. We have to put some of them in the barn and out in the pasture when we all get together for a meal.” Her smile faded. “Only Luke is gone now.”
Laura had lost her oldest son to a heart attack like the one that took his father. No self-pity marred her words. “He and Eli must have so much to talk about, should their paths cross in heaven.”
“Gott willing.”
“Amen. I treasure every memory. You should too.”
“I do. I will.”
“Make some new ones.” Laura’s expression could only be described as sly. “What did Ezekiel want at church yesterday?”
Not a memory Mary Katherine intended to share. “Never you mind.”
“He’s a gut man.”
“Everyone keeps saying that. Is that all it takes? There were several gut men my age when I married Moses. They didn’t seek me out. They didn’t look at me the way he did. I didn’t think about them morning, noon, and night. Moses was a gut man, but to me he was—”
“The One.”
“Jah. Do you think it’s possible to have that again?”
“Look at Jennie. Look at Bess.”
“They’re younger.”
“Our bodies are old. I’ll give you that.” Laura smoothed her gnarled fingers over the slick varnished pine, her expression absent. “But my heart still feels young. Doesn’t yours? If you looked in a mirror right now, wouldn’t you be surprised to see those wrinkles and that gray hair? I look in the store windows when I’m walking in town, and then I look around, wondering who that old woman is reflected in the glass.” She chuckled. “Maybe I am getting senile.”
“You’re not.” Mary Katherine had experienced that exact phenomenon only the week before. She’d been looking in storefronts and daydreaming like a foolish girl about the bookstore she and Dottie would open. “I looked at Moses and I knew he was The One. I haven’t ever felt that for anyone else. Maybe my ticker is broken.”
“Or maybe you just haven’t opened yourself up to the possibility that another man could be The One.”
“What if my brain has latched onto another dream, one that doesn’t involve being a fraa again?” If she could ask anyone this question, it was Laura. “What if there is something else that calls to me more strongly?”
“Dottie’s bookstore?”
“Our bookstore.”
“What does Freeman say about that?”
“He says I should work here.”
“Freeman has the best interests of the Gmay and each one of us at heart.” Laura stopped. Her bushy gray eyebrows lifted. “And Thomas fears for your well-being and your common sense.”
“Not you too.” Was there no loyalty among friends?
“I would’ve smacked your serial killer upside the head with a skillet.”
“You would not. We don’t believe in violence. ‘Love thy neighbor.’”
“Thy neighbor doesn’t steal from you in the middle of the night.” Laura frowned. “Except for the ones who keep taking quilts and Bibles and our kinner’s favorite toys.”
“Burke didn’t steal anything from me. He was hungry.”
“I would have fed him too.” Laura’s frown faded. “We’re women. That’s what we do. Freeman knows that.”
“What did he expect me to do? Run to the phone shack and call him while the man ate? The sheriff?”
“Freeman knows you did what you thought best. He wouldn’t want you to call the sheriff. But he surely expected you to be the one to let him know—when you could. If you’re not going to remarry, he wants you to be closer to family. Like Thomas.”
“Freeman isn’t making me move. He’s letting me work here, even though I would rather work in the bookstore. I don’t see the harm in selling books.”
“It’s not the books that worry him. We can sell books here. Pick out a space.” Laura waved her hand toward a small opening between a shelf filled with candles and another that featured handmade toys. “Leo will make some more shelves and we’ll buy some books. Those Amish romances the Englisch like. Books aren’t bad. Leastways not the kind you and Dottie would sell, but it’s not about the books.”
Freeman measured every request, every change in the Ordnung against the yardstick of how it would affect the Gmay’s ability to remain true to the fundamental tenet that they must keep themselves apart from the world. They could never do anything that would allow worldly ways to creep into their community. Mary Katherine agreed with this concept. She simply wanted to make room for the little slice of heaven on earth represented by rooms filled with books. Stories. The written word. A silly dream for a silly woman.
“I will always put faith and family first.” She straightened and fixed a smile on her face. “Always. If that means being open to a new start with a new mann, so be it. We’ll find one for you too.”
“You are a goose.” Laura cackled, her ample bosom heaving with laughter. “No one followed me into the kitchen after the wedding and complimented my cooking by offering me a job.”
“Ezekiel just needed a cook.” He had been nice about her clumsiness, though. And a little sweet. She was the one getting senile. Instead of thinking about herself, she should be thinking of her friend. What men Laura’s age might come calling on her? The oldest single man was Zechariah Stutzman, a curmudgeonly widower who’d as soon bite a person’s head off as look at him. No way Laura would put up with that. No one else came to mind. “You never know.”
“You never know. That’s the challenge and the beauty of Gott’s plan.” Laura stood with one hand on her hip, her laughter replaced by a grunt of pain. “Let’s get your things on the shelves.”
“Work is the best medicine.”
“And we’ll have fun working together.” Laura’s hug was as encompassing as the first. “You can put the story of your serial killer in your Budget report, along with your new employment at the Graber Handcrafted Furniture and Homemade Goods Combination Store.”
With all the excitement she had missed a Budget deadline. That never happened.
The doorbell tinkled. Laura went to greet a group of older ladies who filled the store with high-pitched chatter and laughter.
Mary Katherine couldn’t talk about her serial killer in The Budget. It didn’t seem right. Instead, her mind returned to the story she was writing about a grown woman who disguised herself as a man and ran away from home in a snit to be a cook on a cattle drive. While she wrote in her head, she measured a space in the corner.
For the books.
THIRTEEN
Daviess County sheriff’s deputies made a habit of stopping by the Purple Martin for pie and coffee. Ezekiel moved to get Deputy Dan Rogers Jr. his usual cup of coffee, black, and a double slice of apple pie. The deputy plopped onto a stool at the counter about a half hour after the noon rush ended. He looked tired and an awful lot like his dad, Dan Sr., who had been a deputy, too, before he retired.
“Nice fall weather.” Ezekiel set the pie in front of him. “Are they keeping you busy over there in Gallatin?”
Gallatin, a town of ab
out ten thousand, was the county seat about ten miles from Jamesport. Dan removed his brown wide-brimmed hat, revealing a smoothly shaved head. He was a polite man who kept his uniform with its long-sleeved tan shirt and dark-brown pants clean and wrinkle free. He wore the uniform and his gold badge with the five-point star in the middle with pride. He slapped the hat on the counter and picked up his fork. “Actually, they’re keeping me busy over here in your neck of the woods.”
Jamesport made its name as a farming community and home to a tourist industry driven by the desire of Englisch folks to see how the Amish lived their lives. Daviess County had its share of meth labs and domestic violence, but Jamesport didn’t head the crime blotter in the Tri-County Weekly or the Gallatin North Missourian. It could only be one thing. “More burglaries?”
Frowning, Dan blew on his coffee, took a swig, and swallowed. “Yep. Four in the last two weeks. Sheriff Dawson put me on the case.”
Uneasiness stole over Ezekiel. He moved down the counter and refilled Larry Mitcham’s coffee cup and set the pot back on its burner. The other pot was low, so he started a new one, his hands moving in the usual ritual of fresh water, new filter, coffee with no thought required.
“That’s why I stopped by to talk to you.”
Dan’s bass followed Ezekiel to the cash register where he rang up Jeff Carver’s cheeseburger and made change from his twenty-dollar bill. A wave of dizziness swept over Ezekiel. He slapped the twenty under the lever and shut the drawer. His stomach rumbled. He’d skipped breakfast again.
“I heard you have a new cook.”
“I do. Two of them.” Ezekiel teetered toward Dan’s end of the counter. Anna and Miriam had the three tables with customers covered. His other cook, Martha, was in the kitchen finishing up her shift. No sense in avoiding this conversation. “What does that have to do with the break-ins?”
“I stopped by Freeman’s to tell him I’d be talking to a few of y’all.”
Law enforcement in these parts dealt with the Plain community enough to know how to ease into these things. That Freeman would share information about Burke with Dan was surprising. They tried to keep contact with the sheriff ’s deputies in their professional capacity to a minimum.
By the same token, they had nothing to hide. “Freeman mentioned my new cook?”
“He said the guy broke into Mary Katherine Ropp’s house.” Dan tugged a small notebook from his shirt pocket and consulted it. “Burke McMillan is the name.”
“He didn’t steal anything.”
“Mrs. Ropp is one lucky lady. Most burglars would do bodily harm if confronted by a woman like that.”
“She had a rifle.”
“Was he armed?”
“No. And all he wanted was something to eat. He was hungry.”
“That’s what he said when caught in the act.” Dan’s tone chided Ezekiel for his naïveté. “Who knows what he would’ve taken if given the opportunity.”
The object of their conversation shoved through the restaurant door.
“Mary Katherine, what are you doing here?”
“I stopped by the Combination Store and asked her to come over after she got off her shift.” Dan twirled around on his stool and saluted her. “Thanks for coming.”
“You didn’t give me a choice.” She strode over to the counter. Her face was damp and pink from the afternoon sun. Her lavender dress brought out the blue in her eyes behind her glasses. She looked good, as usual. “I don’t know why you’re involved. I didn’t call the sheriff ’s office to make a report. I’m not filing charges.”
Dan repeated what he’d told Ezekiel. “McMillan may be involved in all these burglaries. If that’s the case, I need to put a stop to him.”
“He didn’t take anything from my house. All he wanted was food.” Mary Katherine plopped on the stool next to Dan. “He was hungry. He’s a religious man.”
And outspoken as usual.
“Breaking into a widow’s house in the middle of the night is a strange thing for a religious man to do.” Dan clicked the cap of his pen with his thumb in an irritating rhythm. “I want you both to tell me everything you know about him.”
“Now’s not really a good time.” Ezekiel cocked his head toward the kitchen. “I need to help get ready for the next rush.”
“I have plenty of time. And I’d really like a tall glass of iced tea, if you’ve got it.” Mary Katherine sent the stool spinning around like a little girl on a carnival ride, then stopped facing Ezekiel. “I know he’s well spoken and he knows his way around a kitchen. He cleans up after himself. He’s from back east somewhere.”
“He is—was—a Navy chaplain,” Ezekiel interjected as he settled the glass of tea in front of her. She smiled her thanks. He found it hard to look away. Her fingers brushed his. The lines across her forehead puckered. He looked down. He had failed to let go of the glass. He whipped his hand down to his side. “He has a good heart. Leah’s suh Kenneth took to him right away. So did his hund.”
Why defend the man? Because Ezekiel needed a cook? No, because Burke was a kindred spirit, lost in a world filled with couples still united in holy matrimony in a way neither of them likely could ever be again.
“You figured all that out after two days?” Dan grimaced, his gaze fixed on his notebook as if trying to decipher his own writing. “How do you know he’s told you the truth about any of this?”
“Check him out.”
“I will. Where do I find him?”
“Here. This afternoon. After two.” Ezekiel started toward the cash register. He’d left Dan’s bill next to it.
The deputies never accepted his offer of a free piece of pie. The wall on the other side of the counter wavered. The coffeepots and tea pitchers shimmered. His legs stopped working. He raised his hand to his head. At least, he thought he did. His fingers grappled with air.
“Ezekiel, are you all right?”
The words floated through a dark haze. Was that Mary Kay or Dan? The floor smacked him in the nose with a right hook worthy of a heavyweight champion.
It happened fast and slow all at the same time. Mary Katherine beat Deputy Rogers to Ezekiel’s prone body lying facedown on the floor behind the counter. Her own body responded before her mind comprehended that his staggering dance had ended in complete collapse. The sudden strange silence in the restaurant registered as she knelt and touched his cheek. Several customers crowded the narrow space, buzzing with concern and curiosity. His cheek was damp with sweat. His skin was a pasty white. “Everybody back up. Someone call 911.” The calm in her voice surprised her. Her insides quivered like jelly. “He may be having a heart attack.”
“Nee. No ambulance,” Ezekiel grunted. His legs moved. His hand went to his head. “Nee. My heart is broken, but I’m fine.”
“Ezekiel—”
“I’m fine.” He rolled over and sat up. His nose had turned a fiery red from smacking the floor. “Did I say something about my heart? It’s fine. I’m fine.”
The customers began to drift back to their tables, their conversations a low murmur. Mary Katherine nodded at Anna, who grabbed Miriam’s arm, and the two waitresses disappeared into the kitchen to keep the food coming. Ezekiel would hate a scene, and he wouldn’t want the customers’ meals interrupted—especially by his own health.
“You passed out.” Deputy Rogers squatted next to Ezekiel. “That’s not fine. Has this happened before? We need to get you to a doctor.”
“Whoa, whoa. Give a man a minute.” Ezekiel rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. His fingers shook. “Give a man a minute.”
“Get him a glass of water.” Deputy Rogers peered at Ezekiel’s forehead, covered by thick salt-and-pepper hair. “Did you hit your head?”
Mary Katherine rushed to get the water and scurried back. “Has this happened before?”
“You two are like angry hornets buzzing around me.” Ezekiel shoved Dan’s hand away and ignored the glass Mary Katherine thrust at him. “A man can’t think with all th
at buzzing. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” She settled the glass on the floor next to him. “We’re taking you to the clinic.”
“Nee.”
“Jah.”
“Yep.” Deputy Rogers took Ezekiel’s arm. “Grab the other one, Mary Kay. Help him into a chair.”
Together they guided him to the closest chair. She set the glass of water on the table in front of him. “Take a sip and I’ll tell the girls to keep an eye on things until we get back. Anna’s perfectly capable of running the register. Burke will be here to start his shift within the hour.”
“We don’t have to go.” He leaned forward, hands on his knees, and sucked in deep breaths. “I forgot to eat breakfast. A couple of scrambled eggs and toast, I’m right as rain.”
She ignored his protest. A few minutes later they were in Deputy Rogers’s patrol car headed for the clinic. Mary Katherine had never been in a law enforcement car. Neither had Ezekiel, she was sure. At least Deputy Rogers didn’t turn on the siren, although he did make the tires squeal in his haste to pull away from the curb in front of the restaurant. The businesses whizzed by outside her window, but she could still see the blurred outlines of people who stopped to stare.
“I don’t want this.” Ezekiel squirmed in the seat next to her. “It’s just a bill to pay.”
“The Gmay can help with that.”
“It’s a waste of money.” He craned his head to scowl at her. “There’re plenty of home remedies available.”
“If you knew what was wrong, which you don’t. You remind me of Moses. He was always cranky as a bear with a thorn in his behind every time he was sick.”
“I’m not cranky.”
“As a bear.”
“You two sound like an old married couple.” Deputy Rogers chuckled, his blue eyes glancing at them in the rearview mirror. “If you wanted to spend time with the lady, there are easier ways.”
The heat wave that rolled over Mary Katherine rivaled the worst night sweats she’d experienced during her change of life. She stared out the window, afraid to look at Ezekiel. What a ridiculous statement.
