Amish Outsider

by Marta Perry

  “That wasn’t so bad,” Rachel said, as the women moved on to a different activity. Leaning back in her chair, she took a long look at Cathy. “Is something wrong? You’ve been distracted. Is it Michael?”

  The unexpected reference caused Cathy to jab herself with the needle. “Ouch. You and Joanna have been talking again, haven’t you?”

  “We know you have feelings for the man.” A smile tugged at Rachel’s mouth. “Wouldn’t that ruffle some feathers if it comes out?”

  “That’s not all it would do.”

  “I don’t see why. After all, Michael was raised Amish, and now he’s come back. He’ll join the church like he should have done years ago, and a widower with a little girl needs a wife, ain’t so?”

  Cathy felt sure her cheeks were scarlet. It wasn’t often that gentle Rachel was so outspoken. How she and Joanna had seen her feelings—

  About to deny it, she stopped short at the sight of an approaching figure. “Hush. That’s Janet Wilcox, ain’t so?”

  She knew it was so without asking the question. Janet was a familiar figure around town—a fixture at every charitable drive and a volunteer for every good cause. Some said she did it to fill up a life that was otherwise empty. They had no children, and Bernard apparently didn’t want his wife to have a job.

  If that was so, she was sorry for the woman, but she didn’t want to be trapped in conversation with her, not when Michael and his daughter occupied such a large portion of her thoughts.

  But Janet was clearly intent on her. She sat down across from Cathy, smiling a bit tentatively. “You’re the teacher at the Amish school, aren’t you? Catherine Brandt?”

  “That’s right.” Cathy hastily pulled an assortment of fabric scraps in front of her. “Would you like to make a nine patch? Just pick out any nine pieces that you think would go well together.”

  “Oh, of course.” She looked for a moment as if she’d forgotten why she was there, and then she began idly moving scraps around with her fingertip, pushing several together and then sweeping them aside.

  Thinking she needed more instructions, Cathy smoothed out a completed patch. “You see how it will look when it’s finished. Then if you want, you can turn it into a pot holder.” She gestured toward a table where Joanna’s aunt was demonstrating the finishing.

  “Yes, well...” Janet Wilcox stared down at the bits of fabric she kept moving, but Cathy sensed she wasn’t seeing them. “Really, I wanted to talk to you.”

  Cathy’s nerves stood at attention. Her mind scampered from one possibility to another. What did the woman want from her? She’d never expected this sort of attention.

  “You’re Allie’s teacher, then.” The nervous fingers paused, and an odd expression crossed her face. “My...my niece.”

  She seemed to have run out of steam, and Cathy wasn’t sure what to do. Michael probably wouldn’t want her to talk to the woman, but she couldn’t be impolite, especially not at Joanna’s event.

  “Allie is in my class, yah.”

  “I wish...” She shook her head in regret. “I would like to have done something...maybe sent a gift...when the baby was born, but Bernard’s grandmother wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “It’s a pity to hold a grudge.” She offered the only thing she could think of.

  “Exactly.” Janet smiled as if she’d said something profound. “That’s what I said to Bernard. His grandmother won’t know anything about it now. Why not be friends?” Her face clouded. “But when it came to Diana, Bernard’s view was the same as his grandmother’s.”

  “I’m sorry.” She really was. The woman’s sorrow seemed genuine. Perhaps in Allie she was imagining the child she’d never had.

  “Is she well? Happy? I’ve wanted so much to know, but there was no one I could ask.”

  Surely it was all right to answer that, at least. “Very well. And she’s settled in so nicely at school. A little shy at first, but coming out of it more each day and making friends.”

  “Diana was never shy. Why would she be?” A trace of envy, perhaps, colored her voice. “She was always the center of attention.”

  Janet’s memories of Diana seemed tinged with distaste. Did no one have any good memories of the woman?

  With a sudden movement, Janet rose. “Thank you. I should go. I wouldn’t want Bernard to hear I’d been talking with you.” She cast a quick look around, as if half expecting to see him watching her, and then hurried away.

  Cathy stared after her, going over that odd conversation in her mind. It had been strange. Not that she wasn’t familiar with family disputes and grudges—those happened in any family, Amish or English. But why should Bernard Wilcox be so ready to extend his quarrel to an innocent child? Surely they should all want what was best for Allie.

  Was that really all Janet had wanted—to know that Allie was all right? And was she going to tell Michael about the encounter?

  By the time the door was closed and locked after the last customer, Cathy was more than ready to forget the whole thing. But Joanna seemed to have other ideas, because she came straight to Cathy with the light of curiosity in her eyes.

  “All right, tell us. What did Janet Wilcox want with you? Was it about Michael and his daughter?”

  “Nosy, aren’t you?” She tried to evade, but she and Rachel both advanced on her.

  “You can’t keep secrets from us,” Joanna said, and Rachel nodded.

  “We tell you everything, don’t we?”

  “There’s nothing much to tell,” she protested. “Mrs. Wilcox just wanted to ask about how Allie is doing, that’s all. Apparently her husband forbids any connection, and she’s interested. It’s to her credit, I think.”

  “Any normal woman would certain sure feel that way.” Joanna gave a determined nod. “But that’s not everything. You’ve been edgy since the moment you walked in the door. Come on, talk.”

  Cathy tried to hold off, but realized she actually wanted to hear their reaction to what had happened that day. Joanna and Rachel were safe. They’d kept each other’s secrets for years. So in the end she told them everything—the anonymous letter, the follower and even Michael’s idea of going to the police.

  There was silence for a moment when she’d finished. Joanna frowned, considering. “It sounds like you both assume this is connected to the investigation into Diana’s death.”

  Cathy blinked. “Isn’t that logical? I mean, what else could it be?”

  “The letter,” Rachel said. “It must have been someone Amish, ain’t so? Someone who knew how to get into the school.”

  “I—I don’t know. I guess, if it weren’t for all the other things, I’d think it was written by someone in the church.”

  “Rachel has a point,” Joanna said, her quick mind jumping several steps ahead. “The letter isn’t necessarily connected with the person following you. Just because one thing happened shortly after another, that doesn’t mean they’re connected.”

  “No, but surely...that’s twice that someone has been lurking around the school since Allie has been there.”

  “That is serious enough to involve the police.” Joanna’s tone was firm. “You’re just holding back because of the note, but that could be entirely different.”

  “And what if the man wasn’t spying on Allie?” Rachel put in. She sent a fearful look around the shop, perhaps afraid someone might be watching. “Maybe he was interested in you.”

  “A stalker.” Joanna nodded in agreement. “It could happen.”

  “Not here,” Cathy said, instantly denying the idea. Such things didn’t happen here, in their peaceful community.

  “Anywhere. Surely we’ve all learned that there are disturbed people, even evil people anywhere.”

  Joanna was right, she supposed. Bad things did happen. But she still could scarcely believe that the watcher had been after her. What had she ever done
to draw such attention?

  “If you want to make me afraid to drive home alone, you’re succeeding,” she said.

  “We just want you to take it seriously, that’s all.” Joanna gave her a quick hug. “Tell Chief Jamison about the man following you from school. Nobody could blame you for doing so. And you know it’s the right thing to do.”

  She’d argue the point, but she had a sinking feeling she agreed with them. Not about the stalker notion...that still seemed far-fetched. But the man had been lurking around the school. She couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened, not if it might put a child in danger.

  * * *

  MICHAEL LEANED AGAINST Cathy’s buggy in the alley that ran alongside the quilt shop. He had to talk to her again, so he’d walked into town to catch her away from her family. He didn’t want to go to the police without her agreement, but the thought of someone lurking outside the school and creeping after Cathy and Allie turned his stomach. When it came to Allie’s safety, he wasn’t taking chances.

  He’d seen the shoppers leave and heard the door lock behind them. Cathy was probably helping her friend clean up, but she wouldn’t want to get too late a start on the drive home. Dusk was already slipping away into darkness.

  He risked a cautious look in the window. The three of them had their heads together, talking, their faces intent. Was she talking to them about him? He had an urgent need to know what she was saying, but he wouldn’t, not unless she told him.

  Finally they moved toward the door. He heard a chorus of good-nights. Someone seemed to be picking up Rachel—that must be one of her brothers. Rachel was offering to take Cathy home, with Cathy insisting she had her buggy and would be fine. In another moment Rachel’s buggy rolled off.

  Cathy came around the corner. It was dark enough here that she didn’t spot him until she had taken a few steps toward him. Then she stopped.

  “Who’s there?” Her voice trembled slightly.

  “It’s me. Michael.” He moved toward her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You didn’t,” she snapped, but the very fact that she snapped at him told the tale.

  “You ought to be. What’s the idea of coming into a dark alley by yourself? You should have someone picking you up. Did you forget so easily about what happened this afternoon?”

  “No, I didn’t. But since I didn’t want to tell my parents, I couldn’t very well ask Daad to pick me up when he knows I’d normally drive myself.”

  “That’s the trouble with keeping secrets. They come back and bite you.” He walked alongside her, his hand naturally going to her lower back to guide her to the buggy.

  But when he started to climb up to the seat next to her, she put out her hand. “Hold on. What are you doing?”

  “We need to talk.” He swung up beside her. “In private. So I’ll ride along with you. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to take me home. I’ll walk from the turnoff.”

  “I’m not worried about that.” She sat still, the reins slack in her hands. “But if anyone sees us...”

  She was right, he supposed, but the need to convince her to go to the police was strong, and it was compounded by the instinct to protect her. He couldn’t let her go alone—that was the bottom line.

  “An unmarried Amish woman doesn’t usually go somewhere after dark with a man unless he’s a relative or they’re courting. Since you don’t fit into either category...”

  He stopped her by taking the lines into his hands and clucking to the horse. “No one is going to see us.” He tilted his hat down to hide his face. “This town closes up in the evening, and we’re not likely to see anyone from the church on this short trip.”

  Cathy made a tentative movement toward the lines, then sat back and clasped her hands in her lap. “Maybe I’m being too nervous. Or don’t you think that’s necessary?”

  “I’d rather you’d be wary. That’ll do more to keep you safe. I’m saying your safety is more important than what gossips might say if we were seen together.” He frowned, trying to figure out how to start what he needed to say. “I know you’re upset at the idea of contacting the police about what happened this afternoon, but I’d like you to think about it.”

  “I have thought. I’ve done little else.” Her fingers twisted together as if they struggled. “I... Well, to be honest, I think you’re right.” Before he could exclaim, she held up her hand. “But I’m concerned about what will happen if you show Chief Jamison that anonymous note.”

  “No one needs to know what it says. He’d respect your privacy.”

  She gave him a pitying look. “You’ve forgotten what it’s like around here if you think that it wouldn’t get out. And once it does...people might not want to believe it, but they won’t be able to help it. ‘No smoke without fire.’ That’s what they’ll say.”

  He’d been trying to deny it, but with her eyes on him, he knew that what she said was true. She’d be tainted with the slur. As for him—well, they’d probably say that it was just what they’d expect from him.

  “Okay. You’re probably right. I don’t like it either. But are you willing to put that before Allie’s safety?”

  He saw her flinch at the sharp question. She stared down at her hands, writhing in her lap, and he suspected she was fighting back tears.

  “No.” Her head came up, and her chin firmed. “No, I can’t put Allie at risk, no matter what it costs. You win. I’ll talk to Chief Jamison.”

  Silence for a moment, broken only by the rumble of the buggy wheels and the clop-clop of the horse’s hooves on the blacktop. Michael had what he’d come for, but he felt a flood of nausea at the thought of the repercussions. He rubbed the nape of his neck, searching for another answer. Any answer.

  And then he realized the thing he was missing. “Wait a minute. Why should we tell the police anything at all about the anonymous letter? It might have nothing to do with the rest of it.”

  Cathy glanced at him warily, as if not sure she’d heard him properly. “It’s possible, I suppose. In fact, that’s what Joanna and Rachel think—that it’s something totally different.”

  “You talked to them about it?” He seemed uneasy with that.

  “Of course.” She seemed surprised. “They’re my closest friends. I can tell them things I wouldn’t even tell my family.” Then, maybe misinterpreting his reaction, she went on. “You don’t need to worry about it. They’ve never spilled any of my secrets yet, and I don’t suppose they’ll start now.”

  “You’re that sure of them?”

  Cathy nodded, the movement barely visible in the glow from the buggy’s battery lanterns. “Don’t you have friends you trust that way?”

  “When I was a kid, I guess.” He thought back to his friendship with Jacob King. Maybe, if he’d stayed here, that friendship would have ripened into the sort of bond Cathy was talking about. There hadn’t been anything that close after he’d left. Even his friendship with Alan was more the casual companionship of neighbors, not reaching beyond that to their working lives or inward to their secret feelings.

  “All right, I accept that they’ll keep your secrets. What do they think about the guy who followed you and Allie?”

  She hesitated, and he thought she was embarrassed. “Joanna said that maybe...maybe the man was after me, not Allie. I can’t believe that, but she was serious.”

  That explained the embarrassment. A stalker. Such things did happen, and to a twisted mind, there could be an odd temptation in the shape of an innocent Amish woman.

  “It’s possible,” he admitted. “The simple answer is that if there’s trouble here, I brought it with me. But it is possible.” He reached out to cover her hand with his. “Are you worried?”

  “Not really. I know with my head that bad things can happen anywhere, but I guess my heart doesn’t really buy that idea.”

  His fingers tightened on hers. �
�You’d better, because it’s true. Still, I don’t think it’s likely in this case.” He was silent for a moment, thinking it through, his hand still clasping hers.

  “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll go and see Chief Jamison and tell him about the guy who followed you from the school. Even if there wasn’t anything else involved, it’s alarming to think he was hanging around, watching the school. It may well have been the man you spotted before.”

  He paused, watching her for signs of rebellion. She looked solemn, but she didn’t seem ready to back out.

  “He’ll want to talk to you. We’ll have to set up a meeting.”

  “Not at home,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to alarm my folks.”

  That troubled him—to think of her on that isolated farm. Her father was a capable man, but if she kept him in the dark, he’d have no reason for suspicion.

  “Don’t you think your daad—”

  “No.” She yanked her hand away from his. “You have to promise me you won’t tell him if you want me to do this.”

  He doubted she’d be able to keep it from her parents for long, but at the moment he could do nothing but go along with her.

  “Okay, if you feel that way about it.” He considered. “Suppose I ask him to meet us at the school. Well after all the kids and parents have left, so no one will know. You can talk to him there.”

  “What about Allie? She’d be with me, unless you’re going to take her home first.”

  He frowned. “Can’t you find something that will keep her busy while we talk? I’d say I’d take her outside, but I think I should be present with Chief Jamison.”

  “I suppose so. But you’re not going to mention the anonymous letter, ain’t so?”

  “Not if you don’t want me to. Have you any idea who would do such a thing?”

  She shook her head, but he suspected she was holding something back. “I think it’s most likely one of us.” She seemed unaware she’d included him among the Leit.

  “No jealous boyfriends in your life?”