Through the Autumn Air

by Kelly Irvin

  Ezekiel studied the animal lollygagging its way across the yard. Boo circled and sniffed. The dog did the same, nose to nose. Boo barked. The dog responded. Then the two of them took off toward the path that led to the creek. Kenneth followed. “Come on, Groossdaadi.”

  “Coming. He looks like Sonny to me.”

  “Sunny like the sunshine or Sonny like Andrew, your son?”

  Not like a son, for sure. “The first one.”

  Burke grinned and took off after Kenneth. “Wait up. You’ll take a spill on those rocks.”

  Ezekiel shook his head. Burke had him now. He’d named the dog. “Doesn’t mean nothing.”

  “He’s a fine example of canine diversity.”

  “Can’t you just speak English?”

  “From a guy who speaks Pennsylvania Dutch most of the time, that’s rich.”

  “You like to show off your education.”

  “You like to pretend you’re superior because you don’t have any.”

  “Not so.”

  They went back and forth as they headed to the creek. Kenneth got in on the discussion with names like Butch and Smiley and Caramel. Ezekiel held out for Sunny. Even if he wasn’t his dog.

  He settled onto the bank, the grass making a soft pillow under his behind, and threaded a worm on his hook. He preferred bobbers, but he could deal with live bait too. Burke helped Kenneth get situated, then took a spot between the two of them.

  “It’s a good thing you got off early today.” He cast his line with a nice flip of his wrist. “You’ve been out of sorts since your visit to the doctor.”

  “Sorry about that.” Ezekiel kept his gaze on the tiny ripples on the water and the turtle that sunned himself on a rock across the way. His face heated more than the late-afternoon sun warranted. “Doctor says my body’s all out of whack. I have to get used to not eating sugar. It makes me cranky.”

  “No more hot chocolate before bed.”

  “Nope. Doctor suggested hot tea. Who wants tea without honey? That’s like mashed potatoes without gravy.”

  “Cupcakes without frosting.”

  “Hamburgers without fries.”

  “You need a woman to take care of you.” Burke’s remark came out of left field.

  “No more than you.” Instead of letting it go, Ezekiel had to let his nose get out of joint and into someone else’s business. “Forget I said that. We didn’t choose our lots.”

  Burke reeled his line in. “I don’t deserve another woman.” His tone held no self-pity, only certainty. “You do and there is one right down the road waiting.”

  “God gives us what we need, not what we deserve.” Ezekiel was thankful for that. Otherwise, he would be destitute by the side of the road. “For a chaplain you don’t know much.”

  “This is about you, not me.” Burke settled his ball-cap visor farther down his forehead. It shaded his eyes and hid his expression. “You like her.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t play dumb. Mary Katherine.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You have this lovelorn look on your face right now. Just thinking about her makes you all warm and fuzzy.”

  “Does not.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching Sunny chase butterflies and dragonflies. The dog’s tongue hung out his smiling snout the entire time. Boo, being older and wiser, curled up at Kenneth’s feet.

  “It’s not treason to get on with your life.”

  “Says the man who dumped his entire life and ran away.”

  “I know. It’s easier to fix other people’s lives than our own.”

  “Mine don’t need fixing. I’m fine where I am.”

  “Not sleeping. Working six days a week. Still sick at heart over your wife’s death.”

  Getting better. One second after another. It wasn’t anybody’s business. “Like I said, look who’s talking.”

  “You guys are scaring away the fish with all that jabbering.” Kenneth could’ve been his uncle Andrew at seven and fishing at their old watering hole back in the day when Lucy would be waiting to fry the fish with cottage fries and hush puppies. “We won’t catch a thing if you keep it up.”

  “Sorry, we’ll keep it down.” Burke’s voice dropped to a low, hoarse pitch. “Do you know who the biblical man Ezekiel was?”

  “Only that he was a prophet in the Old Testament. They called him the watchman.” His mudder had told Ezekiel about his name. She said she liked the sound of it. “That’s about it. We don’t do a lot of Bible study.”

  “Ezekiel was an obedient man.” Burke’s line went taut. He hooted and reeled it in. Nothing. The night crawler was gone. He sighed. “Some days the fish are smarter than the fisherman—except for the Fisherman, of course.”

  He slid another worm on his hook and let it sail. “God told Ezekiel he would take away with one blow his dearest treasure, his wife. He wasn’t to show any sorrow. Do not weep. No tears. Groan quietly, but do not mourn for the dead. Sound familiar?”

  “We don’t make a big show of our grieving.”

  “I’ll wager you never showed it at all. You put on a strong front because that’s what’s expected, and you wanted to set a good example for your children.”

  Indeed. It was the Plain way. “Something wrong with that?”

  “Do you know what the stages of grief are?” Burke’s voice had taken on a teacher-like quality. “Psychologically speaking.”

  “No, but I reckon the chaplain will tell me.”

  “Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. You’re stuck in depression.”

  “I’m fine. You’re the one who’s stuck.”

  “I don’t believe that just because Ezekiel wasn’t allowed to show his grief to the Israelites, that he didn’t actually feel it. I think he went in a cave somewhere and pounded on the walls where no one could see him.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You feel guilty for having feelings for Mary Katherine. You shouldn’t. If God gives you a second chance at what you had with your wife, you should jump all over it.”

  “Would you?”

  “It’s different.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I’m not mad at God. I’m not mad at Dee Dee. Not really.” Burke plucked at sprigs of dried, brown grass. “I’m mad at myself. I should’ve helped her, but I didn’t. The chaplain who was too wrapped up in himself to help his own wife.”

  “You’re only human.”

  Sunny romped in front of them, chasing a sparrow, who cheeped, dipped within inches of the dog’s nose, then soared away. “Sunny, leave the birds alone.” The dog skidded to a stop on the edge of the water, turned, and raced right at Ezekiel in a flurry of happiness. His muddy paws left prints on Ezekiel’s blue shirt. He licked at his face with a rough tongue, leaving a trail of slobber in his wake. His exertion made him stink even more. “Jah, jah, you can stop now.”

  Burke and Kenneth roared. “He likes you,” Kenneth shouted.

  Burke laughed so hard he threw himself back on the grass and gasped. “No, he loves you.”

  Ezekiel wiped at the slobber with the back of his sleeve and shook his finger at Sunny. “Hey, we just met.”

  “Love at first sight.”

  Maybe so, but the dog took off, this time in pursuit of an orange-and-black butterfly.

  “Short attention span.” Burke’s grin faded. “You’re not getting out of this conversation so easily.”

  “There is no conversation. It’s over.”

  “Why can’t you take a chance?”

  “Not mine to take.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re like a little kid with all these questions.”

  “Nothing else to think about when I’m cooking that food at your restaurant.”

  “You’re mighty nosy.”

  “You’re mighty stupid.”

  Now this stranger from back east was making Ezekiel mad. “Excuse me?”

  “Life is short. If anybody knows
that, it’s us.”

  Sunny took a flying leap in pursuit of a turtle on a log. He landed in the water with a splash that rained down on all three of his human friends and a perturbed canine companion. They stood as the dog splashed and barked. Ezekiel took a few steps down the embankment. “Surely the thing can swim.”

  “He’s not a thing, Groossdaadi.” Kenneth had both hands on his crutches as if he planned to launch himself into the water. “Help him.”

  “You stay put.” Ezekiel waded into the water, boots and all, and hollered at the dog. “Come on in, you silly goose.”

  “He’s not a goose, Groossdaadi.” Kenneth sounded disgusted. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”

  Burke laughed. Ezekiel couldn’t help it. He laughed too. “Come on, Sunny, leave the turtle alone. Let’s go, buddy.”

  With a woof the dog paddled toward him. He gulped water, sputtered, woofed some more. Together they trudged ashore. Sunny immediately shook himself. Water drops sprayed everywhere. “Ach!” Ezekiel threw his arm up to protect his glasses, but it was too late. He was wet from head to toe now.

  And his pole was floating away in the creek.

  “Now neither one of you will need a bath.” Burke laughed so hard he sputtered. “You look like a ragamuffin.”

  “What’s a ragamuffin?” Kenneth wiped water from his face. “What about me?”

  “I don’t know,” Ezekiel admitted, “but surely you’re one too.”

  Kenneth giggled and Ezekiel joined in. “I don’t think we’re catching any fish now.”

  “I told Mudder we’d bring home fish for supper.” Kenneth’s glee disappeared. “She’ll be so disappointed.”

  “But not surprised.” Ezekiel shrugged. “We’ll try again on Saturday, how about that?”

  Kenneth nodded. “I like Sunny. He’s funny.”

  “Funny Sunny. You’re a poet and didn’t know it.” Burke got sillier by the second. He had a way about him. He cheered up others. A good trait in a chaplain. And it covered his own despair.

  Ezekiel fished his pole out of the water. “You take Kenneth up to the house. I’ll take care of the poles.”

  “You don’t want to come with us?”

  “I have to walk my dog.”

  “Do Amish men walk dogs?”

  “No. Not usually. But my doctor says I need to walk. If I’m walking, so is my dog.”

  “I’m really happy you’re taking this so well.” Burke slapped him on the back. “I knew you and Sunny were made for each other.”

  Ezekiel responded with a harrumph. Sunny barked.

  Burke laughed all the way up the trail and out of sight.

  Ezekiel didn’t need a dog, but maybe the dog needed him. Did Mary Katherine like dogs? He’d never seen her with one. Maybe she needed one.

  Ezekiel groaned. Just because a stranger from back east thought he should have a dog or court a woman who may or may not like him, didn’t make it right. Mary Katherine’s life was complicated enough for a Plain woman. So was his.

  He wasn’t mad. Not at God. Maybe at himself. Like Burke.

  The watchman. Burke’s name should’ve been Ezekiel.

  He slowed his pace and meandered along the path, staring at the weeds. Burke was right about one thing. Life was short.

  Sunny barked at a passing sparrow. “She’s out of your reach, dog.”

  Ezekiel squared his shoulders and headed home. It remained to be seen if a certain Plain woman was out of his reach.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Time to face the music. Mary Katherine would rather face music than the grim looks on the faces that confronted her in her own living room. That’s what happened when a person left her front door standing wide open. People wandered in. All five of her sons, Thomas, Dylan, Elijah, Josiah, and Angus, stood around the fireplace, looking like versions of their father at different ages. Cyrus. Freeman. Solomon. The church elders. Deputy Rogers sat in a rocking chair, a fancy-looking camera resting in his lap.

  And Barbara. Her youngest daughter. Again. Exhaustion swept through Mary Katherine. She’d sat with Dottie deep into the night, making lists, helping her find telephone numbers, and holding her hand while she made the calls. Her cribbage friends had shown up, Zoe from the library, people from her church. The house began to fill up fast, but Dottie begged her to stay. So Mary Katherine made coffee and tea and set out plates of store-bought cookies and Dottie’s famous banana bread. Dug out more boxes of tissues from the pantry. Washed cups and saucers. Nodded when necessary. Hugged frequently.

  Finally, Dottie insisted Mary Katherine spend the night in the guest bedroom. She took off her shoes and lay on top of the comforter, listening to the murmur of conversations, Binkie’s anxious barks, and the squeak of the box springs. The murmurs reminded her of the night Moses died. Her ten children under the same roof again, talking in whispers by the fireplace. Comforting each other. Sometimes laughing at the good times of the past. The occasional sob. Her long-established defenses against such memories thinned and collapsed, allowing a flood of other memories. Knowing sleep wouldn’t come, she did the only thing she could. She prayed for Dottie and her family. That God would ease their pain and suffering.

  Now morning had arrived and facts had to be faced. She’d run out on her own home.

  From the looks on the faces that confronted her now in her own home, she might want to pray for God to ease her own suffering. “Make yourselves at home. I’ll brew some coffee.” She dropped her bag on the desk and started for the kitchen. “Or would anyone rather have tea? It’s nippy today.”

  “You called 911 and told the dispatcher someone broke into your house.” Deputy Rogers laid the camera on the table next to his chair. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. He needed a shave. “When I got here yesterday, the door was standing wide open, but no one was here. Not a burglar or you. If it weren’t for your note, we would’ve had a missing persons alert and a massive search going on.”

  “I meant to call your office, but I completely forgot. Walt was still on the floor when I got there. And Dottie was a mess.” The break-in, as crazy as it might sound to a law enforcement officer, had been the last thing on her mind. “Besides, like you said, I left a note.”

  “I knew where you were because Ezekiel saw the coroner’s SUV in front of Dottie’s house,” Thomas jumped in. “He told Angus when he went into the Purple Martin to pick up a pie for supper last night. Angus came by to tell me. Then Dan came by the house to tell me about your call. You can’t have a break-in and not tell me.” He glanced at Freeman as if looking for confirmation. Freeman tugged on his beard. His eyebrows disappeared under the brim of his hat. “Or the bishop, for that matter. You can’t not tell anyone.”

  “Or one of us,” Dylan interjected. “Any one of your five suhs.”

  “Jah,” the others chorused.

  “Or me.” Barbara sounded less certain. She lifted her chin at her brothers’ frowns. “I would ask Joseph if it was okay.”

  “Why are you here, anyway?” Thomas scowled at Barbara. “You couldn’t have known.”

  “I came to talk—”

  “Let’s not get sidetracked.” Freeman put a finger to his lips to shush them, then turned his stare to Mary Katherine. His frown deepened. “Well?”

  “Dottie needed me.” That explanation was more than sufficient. “Whoever broke in was gone.”

  “How do you know? You needed to wait outside for a deputy to search the house to make sure no one was hiding in here, waiting for you.” Deputy Rogers’s fierce gaze shot daggers at her. “You needed to walk through the house to see what was missing. I reckon it wasn’t just a ham sandwich with mustard this time.”

  Mary Katherine looked around the front room. The mantel clock that belonged to her groossmammi was gone. A chess set Moses’ daed carved from walnut was missing from the spot where he’d left it. The cherrywood box Angus gave her for Christmas one year was also gone. She kept her cash earnings from craft days in it. Mentally she calculated the
loss. Maybe three hundred dollars.

  The sentimental value of these material things was greater. She would miss cradling the king or the queen or the bishop when she dusted, knowing Moses’ hands had done the same. She would miss winding the clock and thinking about how her groossdaadi gave it to Groossmammi for her seventieth birthday the year she died.

  Mary Katherine pulled out the chair from the desk, turned it around, and plopped into it. Her legs didn’t want to hold her anymore. She listed the missing items from the front room. “I suppose there could be more from the other rooms, but nothing of any greater value. Material possessions don’t mean a lot to us. Community is more important.”

  “She’s right.”

  At Cyrus’s pronouncement, Mary Katherine’s mouth opened of its own accord. She took a second to regroup. “I am?”

  “We help those in need. Dottie is a friend in need.” Cyrus gave Freeman a sideswipe glance. The bishop’s forehead wrinkled, but he nodded. “The timing was bad, but that wasn’t your doing. Walt Manchester was a gut man. We are sorry for her loss.”

  “The dollar value isn’t great.” Thomas contemplated the ceiling as if he might find patience there. “Why would anyone go to the trouble to break into a Plain house to steal these things? We don’t have TVs or cameras or computers or fancy painkiller prescriptions. Nothing they can sell to get money to buy drugs.”

  “It’s hard to say.” Deputy Rogers scratched his chin. “We’ve had similar break-ins at other Plain farms in other church districts. Same deal. In and out. Minor stuff taken. So far nobody’s been hurt. The last couple of times they’ve ripped off some food too.” He fixed Mary Katherine with an accusing stare.

  She bristled. “You’re not still thinking about Burke, are you?”

  “Lucky for him, he was working when this burglary occurred. But I’m still running down a timeline for the others.”

  “He has a job now. A paycheck. He has no reason to run around breaking into houses and eating ham sandwiches.”

  “Maybe he has a fetish.”

  “A what?”

  “You know, he gets his kicks sneaking into houses and checking out the ladies’ drawers. I don’t know.” Deputy Rogers pursed his lips and dug in his heels. “I’m not ruling out anything.”