"If you can't afford an attorney," one of the officers continued, "you are entitled to an attorney paid for and appointed by the state. This means you don't have to pay for the attorney," he said slowly to Martha in case she hadn't understood.
"But I've done nothing wrong," Martha said. "I don't need an attorney."
Just then there was a loud commotion and both officers hurried outside. One returned soon after and said, "There's been an incident; we have to clear the area. Do you have any objection if we place you in a holding cell for a short time until we can recommence questioning?"
"I suppose that's okay," Martha said, still unsure of her rights and the ramifications of whatever she happened to agree to. This was all completely foreign to her.
The officer hurriedly led her down several corridors, until they reached an area into which they were buzzed by a uniformed police officer. Martha gasped when they walked through. In front of her stretched rows and rows of cold, steel bars and cold concrete floors. Much to her dismay, Martha was put into one of the holding cells with another woman. Martha eyed the woman apprehensively. She looked young, and not like Martha imagined a criminal to look, but then again, Martha had never imagined Sheryl as a criminal either. Martha took in the girl's long, blonde hair, her vivid blue eyes, and her pale skin.
Martha tentatively took a seat on the bench, as far away from the girl as possible. For a moment neither spoke, and then the girl asked shyly, "What are you in for?"
Martha looked at the girl. She didn't look dangerous, but Martha was wary. "My house mate has been stealing clothes and the police think I'm involved in it, too."
"And are you?"
Martha shook her head. "No. What about you?"
"I fell in with a bad crowd. They stole a car, and I was riding in it. We were all arrested, but I didn't know it was stolen. I'm Amish; I'm on my rumspringa." The girl shivered.
"But I'm on my rumspringa, too!" Martha exclaimed.
The girl's whole demeanor changed. "You are? That's wunderbaar!" she gushed. "I'm Sarah Beachy. I'm from Kentucky; not from around here. I don’t know any Amish here. I've left the Amish forever."
"Me too," said Martha, surprised at Sarah's words, but then amended it to, "At least, I'm considering it. My name's Martha Miller." It was clear to her that Gott had caused the two of them to meet; this surely could not be a coincidence.
"I'm all by myself," Sarah said and then burst into hysterical sobs.
Martha was at a loss; she simply patted the girl on the back and made soothing noises.
"Sorry about that," Sarah managed to say. "My mudder passed away and my daed remarried, and his new fraa doesn't like me, so I left."
"What about your bruders and schweschders?"
Sarah shook her head. "Nee, I don't have any. Mamm had trouble having me; I was the only boppli."
Martha was full of concern. "Where are you staying now?'
Sarah held a tissue to her eyes and Martha was afraid that her question might have promoted a fresh flood of tears. "I have nowhere to stay; Gott has abandoned me."
"Nee, nee," Martha hurried to say. "Gott hasn't abandoned you. You can stay with my familye until you figure things out." Martha thought of her own mudder's possible reaction to Sarah, and so added, "Or perhaps another familye in my community. But you do have somewhere to stay now. Gott has brought me to you."
Sarah's face brightened. "Jah, I suppose He has."
"When I leave here, I’ll leave my familye's name with the police officers for you. And just in case they don't give it to you, you'll remember the name Miller, won't you?"
"Jah." Sarah had stopped crying and had some color back in her cheeks. "Denki, Martha, denki so much. I feel so much better now."
Martha looked around the room. She realized that she was sitting in a holding cell at a police station, all bars and concrete, cold and frightening, and she was under arrest. Yet her spirits lifted, as she was sure that Gott had led her there to help Sarah.
Proverbs 3:11-12.
My son, do not despise the Lord's discipline
or be weary of his reproof,
for the Lord reproves him whom he loves,
as a father the son in whom he delights.
Chapter 10 .
The rest of the afternoon seemed to pass in a flash, and Martha felt detached from the whole proceedings. It was as if she was having a dream from which she was unable to awake.
At her request, the officers allowed Martha to make a phone call. Martha sat under the harsh light of low-hanging fluorescent lights in a cold, gray office chair beside a stark, metal desk in the middle of a room filled with police officers at similar metal desks, while the officer called the Hostetler barn. Martha looked around the room. The plaster was peeling off the walls which were painted in two shades of a most unpleasant green. The floor was tiled in an additional and horrible two shades of green. The smell of coffee filled the air, but it was not a welcoming scent; rather, it was intimidating. Everything about the room was intimidating.
The officer handed the phone to Martha, but there was no answer. "Could you please try one more time?" she asked the officer.
"Once more," he said. He tried again, but there was still no answer.
Martha was then taken to another man who spoke for some time, but by then, she was in a daze.
Finally, one of the officers shoved something in front of her to sign. She read it; it said she agreed to be present for hearings. After she signed it, the officer said, "You can go now."
"But what about bail?" Martha knew nothing of arrest procedures except for the fact that people usually had to pay bail.
"You're out on ROR."
When Martha looked up at him, puzzled, he explained. "You are released on your own recognizance. You've agreed in writing to appear at all proceedings. ROR means you don't have to post any money and you're not required to check in." He handed Martha a paper bag with her belongings. "The stolen handbag in your possession has been kept as evidence." As Martha stood looking at him, he added, "Do you have enough money for a taxi home?"
Martha nodded, and the policeman walked off, saying, "Make sure you get a lawyer," over his shoulder before he left.
Martha had no idea how she got home to her apartment. Once she was inside, she locked the door behind her and made a cup of hot meadow tea. She sat and sipped it, shivering despite the fact that the afternoon was warm. Sheryl was supposed to be back by now, but there was no sign of her. Martha had no idea if Sheryl was still being detained at the police station. She had asked the police officers about Sheryl, but they had refused to tell her anything.
After the meadow tea, Martha's head cleared somewhat. She did not want her familye to know that she had been arrested for stealing. Despite the fact that she was innocent, she felt ashamed. She had so wanted to make her way in the Englisch world, and her mudder, if she heard what happened, would insist she return home at once.
There was only one thing for it: she would have to call Moses.
Martha took her phone out of the paper bag and called the Hostetler barn. Please pick up, please pick up, she repeated over and over again. It rang out twice. "Please Gott, please Gott, let someone answer," she said aloud. Finally, on the third try, she heard Moses' voice.
"Moses!" Martha all but yelled down the phone.
"What's happened? Is something wrong?"
"Yes." Martha only managed to get the one word out before collapsing into a flood of tears. Try as she might, she was unable to stop crying, but sobbed and sobbed, only pausing to blow her nose loudly, and all the while, Moses was still on the phone.
"I'll be right there." At least that's what she thought Moses said, and the line went dead. Martha wondered what to do, and after a while called back, but there was no answer, so she assumed he was on the way.
Martha paced up and down the apartment until Moses arrived, and it was all she could do not to fling herself at him and sob on his shoulder.
Moses' face was white and dra
wn. "What’s happened?"
"I was arrested," Martha blurted.
Moses jaw dropped open. "Now come and sit down. I’ll make you a hot tea and you can tell me all about it. I know you don’t like sugar in your tea, but it will help with the shock."
Martha allowed herself to be led to the sofa, and as Moses headed for the kitchen, she called out, "The sugar's in the salt container."
Moses returned with the tea and wouldn’t let Martha speak until she'd sipped some. "Now, tell me all about it."
Martha told Moses how she had been arrested for stealing, how the police had searched the place, and that they had accused her of being in a retail theft organization with Sheryl.
Moses looked thoughtful. "And who is in this supposed retail organization?"
Martha shrugged. "Just me, I think - oh, and Sheryl obviously. The police officers said they found thousands of dollars worth of stolen designer clothes and handbags, and expensive jewelry too, right here in this apartment."
"You told them you had nothing to do with it, obviously."
"Yes." Martha nodded vehemently, but that made her head hurt. "They didn’t believe me. I told them I’d only borrowed clothes from Sheryl. Anyway, they said if I told them all I knew, I’d get a lesser sentence, but I’d already told them everything I knew, and they didn’t believe me." Martha felt she would cry again, but there were no more tears left. Instead, her head throbbed horribly.
"You need a lawyer."
Martha nodded. "Ouch, Moses, I've suddenly got a crashing headache. Could you please get me some Advil? There's some in the bathroom."
Moses hurried off to find the Advil, while Martha was left to sit there and consider how blessed she was to have such a friend as Moses. She felt safe and protected when Moses was around. Even the arrest didn’t seem so frightening now that Moses was going to help.
Moses returned with Advil and a glass of water. "Don’t worry, Martha; I’ll take care of everything. I'll find you a gut lawyer. I assume you don’t want your familye to know?"
Martha winced. "It’s just Mamm. She'd make me come home at once, and I'd lose my new chocolate contract. I'd like to tell my schweschders and my daed, but they wouldn’t be able to keep it from Mamm. Can it just be our secret for the moment?"
"Of course." Moses smiled at her tenderly, and took her hand in his, patting it gently.
Martha looked up into his thoughtful, blue eyes and felt that all was well with the world, with Moses there to care for her.
Galatians 5:22-23.
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.
Chapter 11 .
Sheryl had not returned, and Martha had no idea where she was. She had called her cell repeatedly, but it appeared to be turned off. Martha had no idea if Sheryl was paying the rent, or what was going on. She would need to speak to her soon.
All Martha could do was to continue her work as a short order cook, and try to raise funds to pay for the lawyer by selling chocolates at the upcoming farmers' market. The market was open every Saturday, but she hadn’t been able to get there for some time. Now she needed every cent. She had no idea how much lawyers cost, apart from the fact that they were sure to be horribly expensive.
Martha was melting chocolate over a water bath when there was a knock at the door. She hurried to the door, hoping it was Sheryl, although Sheryl did of course have her own key. "Sheryl," she said hopefully, opening the door.
"Not last time I looked. Hey, you don't look happy to see me." Gary was standing in the doorway, dressed in better clothes than the usual casual clothes he wore around the apartment.
"Oh Gary, come in. Come to the kitchen and talk; I'm tempering chocolate."
"You're what?"
Martha beckoned to Gary and hurried back into the kitchen.
"I've been away at a conference, just in case you were wondering where I was. Did you miss me?"
Martha looked over her shoulder. "Oh, you were away?"
Gary looked crestfallen. "Well, that answers my question. Where’s Sheryl?" He reached over to a small bowl and picked up some chocolate which he shoved into his mouth.
"No Gary!" Martha said sharply. "That’s the seed; you can't eat it."
"It tastes like chocolate to me, not seeds," Gary said in a confused voice through a mouthful of chocolate.
Martha shook her head. "No, I mean yes, it's called the seed but it’s about a quarter of the chocolate - I have to add it in later. Don’t touch any more."
Gary shrugged. "Fine, if that's how you feel. So anyway, where's Sheryl?"
"I haven't seen her since I was arrested," Martha said without thinking.
"What?" Gary's voice rose to a shriek. "Did you say arrested?"
"Yes, so I'm making chocolates to pay for my lawyer. I’d make you some coffee and sit down and talk, but I've started tempering the chocolate for the cherries and I can't stop now or I’ll have to do the whole thing all over again." Martha was flustered; having interruptions while tempering chocolate was bad at the best of times, but now she'd have to explain the whole situation to Gary. "I have to really concentrate 'cause even a small amount of water can make the chocolate seize. I'll tell you everything, but I'll have to do this while I talk, if that's okay."
"Sure." Gary walked over to her. "Does it bother you if I watch?"
"No, that's fine." Martha took a deep breath. "The police said that Sheryl's been stealing thousands of dollars worth of designer dresses and handbags, and they think she must be running an organization and that I'm part of it, 'cause when they came with the search warrant, I was wearing stolen clothes."
"Hey man, that's heavy."
Martha looked up at him and then stirred the chocolate. "I didn’t know they were stolen, obviously. I had no idea Sheryl was stealing things. The police don’t believe me, of course."
"Did you tell them you were a simple Amish girl unfamiliar with the ways of the world and straight off the farm?"
Martha looked up from the digital probe thermometer and shot Gary a sharp look, but he didn't appear to be joking; in fact, he looked quite serious.
"I told them I was on rumspringa and that I'm Amish, but they didn’t seem to think that made any difference. So I was arrested and I haven't seen Sheryl since."
Gary let out a long whistle. "Serious. You do have a lawyer, don't you?"
Martha put the thermometer down and shook her head. "Not yet, Moses is getting a lawyer for me."
Gary grunted. "Moses, your Amish boyfriend." It was a statement rather than a question.
Martha shook her head. "Nee, he's not my boyfriend." As soon as the words were out, she wished she had avoided the subject. She did not want to encourage Gary; she had given up any idea of having him as an Englisch boyfriend. Now he might see her saying she wasn't dating Moses as an open invitation to pursue matters further.
"Anyway," she continued, "that's why I'm making these chocolates, to pay for the lawyer. I can’t imagine a lawyer would be cheap."
"That's for sure. So who are you selling these chocolates to?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? The farmers' markets. I used to go there quite often; it's how I saved up enough money for the rent here."
"Wouldn't your family pay for the lawyer?"
"Nee, nee," Martha said, and then amended it. "No, no, I don't want my familye to know. My mudder, err, mother, would be most upset and she'd force me to go home immediately. I don’t want to go home until I've finished my rumspringa, especially now that I have that chocolate contract in place."
Martha turned her attention to adding the seed to the mixture and stirring it with a spatula.
"So you are going home then?" Gary said after a few moments.
Martha looked at Gary. "What do you mean?"
"I thought you had no intention of returning to the Amish at all, and now you're saying you'll go home after you finish your rumspringa."
Mart
ha stopped dipping a small strip of parchment paper into the chocolate and stared at Gary. "I said that?" She thought over her words. Did she really intend to return home? Or did she wish to remain an Englischer? My subconscious mind clearly thought I was intending to return home, she thought. Martha was confused, so confused in fact, that she stared at Gary so long trying to make sense of her thoughts that the chocolate cooled too much and went hard, and she had to start the tempering process all over again.
1 Corinthians 1:17.
For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with words of eloquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power
Chapter 12 .
Martha and Gary arrived in Gary's car early in the morning at the farmers' market. Martha had accepted Gary's offer to help at the markets as she was so overwrought with everything that had been happening. There had still been no word from Sheryl, but Martha had visited the leasing agent who had informed her that Sheryl's rent was up to date and in advance by one month. That gave Martha a little breathing space, she'd figured.
Martha usually enjoyed her day at the markets, with its family friendly and energetic atmosphere, but she was feeling quite down about the whole situation of her arrest. She was also frustrated by the injustice of it all. There was a good chance she could go to jail, but she couldn’t let herself think about that now. Gott knew was she innocent, and Gott was the supreme judge.
The open air market was held every Saturday and attracted vendors of all descriptions selling their products: food, crafts, quilts, art, and candles to name but a few. Vendors set up either side of the pathway, and Martha was glad that Gary was there to help her put up the gazebo folding tent.
The Amish Millers Get Married BOXED SET Books 1-3 (Amish Romance Book Bundle: The Way Home, The Way Forward, The Narrow Way) (Boxed Set: Amish Millers Get Married) Page 21
