by Mary Barbee
Nothing had prepared him for the demands of adulthood, marriage, and fatherhood. His wife and children were a blessing, he knew this, but sometimes regardless of all he had to be grateful for, he longed for freedom and to be away from the tugging demands that could sometimes create such a pit in his stomach. He was merely in his late thirties but most days, he already felt like he was an old man. These feelings were enforced when the older men whom he knew well often stopped by his store on their daily walks. They would stop to chat with him.
Moses ultimately enjoyed those chats with the elder men. They kept him warm and less lonely, but there was a nibbling fear that lodged itself in his chest most often during the rides to and from the shop. During these times, he was still and would get caught up in his head. That’s when these chats served as reminders of how different his life had become. Since he lost his childhood friend, Matthew, Moses was hesitant to nurture friendships with other men near his own age. He held onto the hurt Matthew caused him like an ant clinging to sugar.
"Good morning, Moses," someone called out, quickly pulling him out of his thoughts. Moses saw Jacob Lapp's widow waving frantically to him. He pulled his buggy to a stop carefully near the curb she was standing on.
"Good morning, Martha. Headed out to do some shopping this fine morning?" he greeted her. The broad brim of his hat blocked his view slightly, so he pushed it to the side just a smudge. Martha's smile was so genuine and heart-warming. She was an older woman in the neighborhood, and Moses looked out for her.
"Oh no, Moses. My grandson, Hezekiah, do you remember him? Well, he's fallen sick. Whenever he isn’t feeling well, he always asks for his Grossmammi. I am just waiting for my son-in-law to pick me up," Martha's vivid, bright voice responded.
"Well then, Martha, you don't need me to drop you off at your daughter's now do you?" Moses asked pleasantly. Although he was late to work, he wouldn't hesitate to take Martha where she needed to go. His parents did not raise an unkind, unhelpful man. They taught him better than that.
"No, no, thank you for offering to help. How is your family?" Martha asked. Moses answered her questions politely. When she finally waved him goodbye, he picked up the speed just a bit and returned his focus to getting to the shop on time.
The sun was sitting high in the sky, a large ball of yellow rising majestically on its way to the other side of the world. Moses was already late to work. Early Autumn brought with it a lucid beauty to life in the community. Flowers were still in bloom, their colorful tendrils unfolding towards the sun as though beckoning for the splash of light that would liven them up. With the leaves just starting to turn colors, Autumn served as a great symbol for change - whether you were looking for it or not.
His buggy closed the widened distance until he soon stopped near the front door of the shop. He hopped out of the buggy and closed its door securely. Moses' store was situated between Thomas' coffee shop and Mr. Hatfield's flower shop. Looking over to Thomas’ shop, he saw that it was closed again. Where could he be? This should be the prime time for a coffee shop to be open and buzzing with customers. Moses’ feelings of recent concerns for Thomas started to grow. Not only was the closed sign hanging inside the door of Coffee World, but Thomas had also not shown up for work at the hardware shop in a few days.
More than just worry, Moses was starting to regret hiring Thomas. A few months ago, he had approached Moses and had pleaded to him for a part-time job. He opened up about how his coffee shop was collapsing and he explained that he needed a supplemental income to save the shop and make ends meet. Moses had suspected that he had money problems. Thomas had never proven to be a level-headed man as long as Moses had known him, so it wasn't a surprise that his business was struggling. He clearly had terrible business acumen, and knowing that, Moses had his reservations about taking him under his wing. But he wanted to help support Thomas’ dreams. At first, everything was perfectly fine, and things were going well. Thomas seemed eager to learn and work. But just one month later, things took a turn. Thomas rarely showed up to work and the few times he did, he seemed disoriented and uninterested. Moses had decided to give him one more chance before firing him and was prepared to have that conversation with him today. But he needed Thomas to understand that Moses was a good man, not an idiot. He would not allow anyone to take advantage of his goodness.
"Good morning, Mr. Hatfield," he called across to his neighbor. Mr. Hatfield was watering some tulips displayed beautifully on the window ledge in front of the store. His apron was soiled and so were his fingers. A pair of cutters dangled from the work belt he had tied around his waist.
"Good morning, Moses. What a fine day it is huh?" he said inattentively. His mind was focused on the flowers. Anna once said that there were only two things Mr. Hatfield cared about in the world: his wife and his flowers. And Moses was inclined to agree with that. Hatfield’s entire life revolved around his flower fields and shop and he had a large picture of his wife holding an elegantly arranged bouquet of flowers hung on the wall directly behind the counter. Mr. Hatfield’s face would light up whenever Mrs. Hatfield came to visit, or when anyone asked about the photograph. The couple kept to themselves, and Mr. Hatfield especially was a man of few words. No one knew much about the couple or even where they had moved from exactly. He was an Englisher who showed up to town one day for a visit, fell in love with the area, and never left.
Moses tied up the horse and walked towards his shop. As he was fiddling with the keys to unlock the front door, a black Ford Mustang with a loud muffler dramatically pulled to a stop behind him drawing attention and interested stares from nearby pedestrians. Moses was annoyed.
A man that Moses did not recognize jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut. He was wearing a cowboy hat and boots with jeans and a plaid button-down shirt. He wasn't dressed in the badges and stars-inscribed uniform of the state troopers. The Stetson hat angled from his face. Moses saw his roughened face and aquiline nose and immediately felt the annoyance turn to a sense of dread.
"Howdy," he called out to Moses. Moses reluctantly returned his greeting. “I’m with the police force out in Nashville.”
"How may I help you?" he made sure to ask with a kind tone. The man's eyes looked Moses over inquisitively. Moses wondered what he was doing in their town. They didn't need another police officer, especially one from Nashville. The town had Derek and Jude to handle any necessary business. Encouraged by the two to be on a first name basis, the sheriff and deputy were respected enough by the community, but there was still a bit of distrust felt when they came around.
"How ya doin? Listen, I don't mean to be any bother but I’m looking for Sheriff Derek McCall. I understand no one has seen him for a few days, and I’m here to help with the search. Do you reckon you could point me in his direction?" the detective asked rowdily. His voice was too high, accented, and distracting. Moses had to really struggle to discern some of the words that came out of his mouth.
Derek was missing? Moses hadn't noticed or heard anything about that. He certainly didn’t see Derek every day, nor was he particularly interested in having a close friendship with the man. Honestly, he thought the sheriff and his deputy should have been making more progress toward solving the theft cases that were recently popping up in Little Valley. Since the robberies started a few weeks ago, no one had yet been able to solve the case and apprehend the culprits.
"The Sheriff is missing? I wasn’t aware. I mean, he would sometimes be seen driving around town in the mornings and maybe wave to anyone who cared to notice - but now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him in a few days. That's all I know about his life and routine. We aren't exactly friends or anything so I wouldn’t know what else to tell you." Moses said.
The detective spat out a thick glob of saliva onto the ground just to the left of his silver-tipped boots. His eyes never left Moses' face. Small beads of sweat started forming on the base of Moses’ neck and forehead as he worked hard to keep a calm composure. The man's gaze was too pi
ercing for his liking. Why was he staring at him like that? Surely, he didn’t think Moses had anything to do with the sheriff’s disappearance?
"Ain't that a shame? You two live in the same town and both of you have business here, yet you never even bothered to get to know him. I’m starting to get the impression you don’t like Sheriff McCall - nice try hiding it, though," the man said, carefully watching for a reaction.
Moses was stunned. This wasn’t the first time he was met with disdain because of the Amish lifestyle. He didn't dislike the sheriff. Like he explained, he didn’t even know the man. What was this man trying to do?
"I don't dislike him," Moses defended himself. The man in the hat struck an assertive pose. His right leg was thrust forth with hands on his hips. His eyes narrowed to an uncomfortable slit. But I definitely don’t like you, thought Moses. How could someone be so rude? Part of the distrust was from those moments in the past when Sheriff McCall seemed to show a certain sort of prejudice towards the Amish. The rest of the Englishers in town were usually very kind and accommodating, but the rude ones threw Moses off balance. There were a handful like Derek. Samuel, who ran the bar in town, was also this way, and maybe even more so. It didn’t help Derek’s case that he let Samuel get away with a lot of things that perhaps outside police officers wouldn’t let happen.
There was no fighting allowed in Moses’ world, and this feeling of defenselessness that Moses was experiencing was familiar but not exactly comfortable.
"Well, I definitely don’t have the time or energy to argue with you. And I’m sure you have better things to do, making more hammers to sell to tourists or something... I guess I'll be sticking around until I get to the bottom of this. You make sure to let me know if you hear anything," he said. Moses nodded his head quickly. He was eager for the man to leave - this was starting to feel like an interrogation, and he needed to get to work.
"You have a good day now," he said, with a quick flick of his hat – a cowboy's goodbye. Moses watched him get into his car and drive off with the same reckless abandon. Moses turned and entered his shop, reaching to the left to switch on the overhead fluorescent lights. Typically, the buzzing sound of the lights had a comforting affect over Moses, but not today. Not after that unsettling encounter.
Taking a deep breath, the smell of tools filtered into his nostrils. He worked hard to push all of that unnecessary drama out of his mind and turn his day around. Humming to himself, he walked around the store opening the windows and carefully positioning the tools on the beautifully crafted display tables strategically placed around the small room.
"Gute mariye, Moses," Thomas' voice came from behind him. Moses turned to face the man. He looked so ashen. His hair was matted. Moses always felt that one could describe Thomas as a very average looking man. He was neither short nor tall. The nose on his face was small and straight. He had tawny brows and a weak jaw and low cheekbones.
Moses liked Thomas’ green eyes, at least. They seemed so honest and all-embracing. The concept that your eyes are the windows to your soul seemed to apply to Thomas. On the day he came into the store to beg Moses for a job, Moses asked Thomas directly if he was broke. Thomas tried to avoid the question, but his eyes gave the answer that his lips didn’t speak.
"You've been gone for a few days now, Thomas. I am very displeased. When you asked for this job, you said that you would do your best. This certainly isn't your best," Moses said, the impatience coming out loud and clear in his voice. He hadn't meant to scold him but as he spoke the words, he knew that it sounded that way. The air between them filled with tension, and things quickly became awkward. Thomas may be his employee, but he was not a child. He was in his late thirties, like Moses. There was no need to scold him.
"I wish I had a good reason for my absence, but I don't. I'm sure you don’t want to hear that, nor do you want fabricated excuses. I'm terribly sorry, Moses. I recognize that you are helping me, and I don’t mean to take advantage of your kindness," Thomas said, humbly. His sincere apologies melted the irritation inside Moses. His voice softened.
"But where were you? Is everything okay? Are you okay?" he asked. Thomas’ coffee shop had sat next to Moses’ hardware store for a few years, but they weren't close friends. They hadn’t spent much time getting to know each other outside of the occasional nod at a service or a barn raising before Thomas approached Moses for part-time work. But Moses felt like he knew that Thomas was a decent man. He had seen Thomas and his group of friends gathered in the diner on several occasions. It made him long for a close friendship. His childhood friend, Matthew, had chosen the life of an Englisher after their shared time during Rumspringa, and Moses missed him terribly. But Matthew and Moses had, unfortunately, both developed crushes on Sarah. She had fallen in love with Moses, and Matthew couldn’t bear to be witness to their happy life together. Moses wished things could have been different. It seemed such an unfair tragedy to have to choose between the two most important people in his life, and although he was happily married, he still longed for the bond he shared with his best friend.
In the diner, high-spirited discussions from Thomas’ table of friends would float over to Moses, sorely reminding him of the fun he once had with Matthew. Most days, he stopped himself from walking over to their table to ask to join them. He would always talk himself out of it by telling himself that if Thomas wanted him there, then he would be invited.
"It’s embarrassing, but sometimes, I just sink into depression. It has been a real struggle. You know...with everything that's happened... my business and all. It's often hard to just get out of bed and face the day. I know it's no excuse...." He paused, his jaws quivering visibly.
"No, I'm sorry for prying. I wish I could help out more," Moses dived in, wanting to relieve Thomas of having to put his feelings into words, and ultimately to shift gears in the conversation. There was work to do, and this morning seemed to be dragging on, full of unwanted distractions.
"Thank you, Moses. You've proven to be a good friend to me. I will never forget this," he said, setting a light hand on Moses' shoulder for a moment. Moses saw the tears misting his eyes, and again, he was overcome with an urgency to change the subject.
"Ok, well, now that you’re here, let’s get to work. Will you please go to the tool shed out back and grab the box of four- and eight-pound shop hammers that I set aside? Noah wants me to bring them to Simon’s tonight. You've joined the work going on there before, right?" he said hurriedly, the words gushing out of him like water from a spicket. He was trying to fill the space between them with words and stop the tears that were threatening to flow from Thomas’ eyes.
Thomas gathered his composure in record time. "Ah, yes. Bishop Packer called at my place to ensure I did that," he responded. Moses had forgotten how close Thomas and the Bishop were. The Bishop was Thomas’ uncle. And strangely, Thomas never called him uncle. Everyone in town called the Bishop by his title, including his closest family members.
"Well, I haven't shown in a while and Noah's giving me grief about it. My father-in-law's in the same boat, but he's not as forthcoming as Noah is. Anyway, if you would grab that box of tools and place it behind the counter, I will be sure to take it with me when I head out this evening." Moses said. Thomas nodded and grabbed the keys dangling from the nail on the wall.
Moses worked on in silence for a few minutes, setting up the cash register. His silence was interrupted by Thomas’ screams. Momentarily, he stood there stunned, trying to figure out the direction and source of the shrill scream.
Thomas flew in, his face was white as a sheet. “It’s baremlich, Moses... out there...” Thomas struggled to get those few words out between gasping for air. Moses rushed out of the store, roughly pushing past Thomas with urgency as he stood holding on to the door frame with one hand, bent over clutching his stomach with the other. As Moses approached the open door of the toolshed, his senses were on high alert. Even before his eyes were able to adjust to the dim light in the toolshed, he knew by the st
ench that lingered in the air that the scene was not going to be good. Thomas was right. It was baremlich. At the sight of the body lying lifeless in the corner, Moses dropped to his knees, landing on the threshold of the shed he had built with his own hands, took his hat into his hands, and immediately began to pray.
"We have to do something, right?" Thomas said, moments later, quietly interrupting Moses’ mumbling. Moses wiped his face with the palm of his hand, stood and straightened his suspenders. He replaced his hat on his head and found his composure.
"Dear Gotte, who could've done this?" he asked out loud as he led Thomas back to the shop to call for help.
Moses didn't need to be a wise man to realize that he was in trouble. The dead body was found locked up in his tool shed. He was certainly in trouble...
CHAPTER FIVE
BETH'S YOUNGEST GRANDCHILDREN ran around her with hyper energy. She was in the kitchen, making a cup of tea for their guests. Anna sat with the older girls in the living room, consoling the sobbing girl. Beth strained her ears to hear what they were saying. Anna's voice, as always, was low and soothing. The girl's voice was loud and tearful, so emotionally ridden that it was hard to decipher what she was saying.
Since she could recall, the twins had always been considered the wise women of the community. Women who needed advice, a shoulder to cry on, or someone to confide in often came to them. As a result, the twins knew quite a few secret things about most of their neighbors. Beth couldn't exactly recall what it was that originally made the residents so trusting towards them. Was it something passed down from their mother? Or the fact that they were born into the King family? Beth and Anna’s parents spoke their surname with pride and honor and taught their children the importance of living their lives as leaders to stay true to their God-given name.