Return to Grace

by Karen Harper

  Seth still stared at him. Though he hardly expected this man to confess to anything, what Seth had said was as close—right now—as he dared to try to get a guilty reaction from him. “I’ll get to work now. And if you can remember anything about that hill you observed in your graveyard vigil even yesterday, I’d value your help,” he added as he started away.

  “I was not there that night!” Arrowroot called after him, finally sounding annoyed. “I’ve been there after dark on occasion, but not that night!”

  He had gotten something out of him, after all, Seth thought with satisfaction, so he wasn’t going to give up on the possibility he was involved. He felt Arrowroot’s eyes bore into him like bullets as he walked to the garage to get the ladder, the garage with all the photos of the area tacked up, including, he saw clearly now, ones of the graveyard and top of the hill.

  Despite her fear of guns and Sarah’s warning ringing in her ears, once they were back in the Home Valley, Hannah asked Mr. Sterling to stop at Elaine Carson’s store and shooting range.

  While he waited outside for her, Hannah hurried into the Rod ’n’ Gun. She had to admit that it was partly Lily Freeman’s testimonial for Marcy Shin’s story that had given her the idea of coming here to inquire about shooting lessons, which were the last thing in the world she wanted to take or pay for. But if she came here from time to time for lessons, she could keep an eye not only on Elaine Carson but, for Ray-Lynn, on Lily, too.

  No car was in the parking lot or inside, so that would give her time to look around. Through a series of windows at the rear of the building, she could see the gun range with its array of various targets—including the life-size shape of a man!

  “Hey, welcome!” Ms. Carson called out from a side room as she came in carrying a carton labeled Winchester Xpert Hi-Velocity Ammo. “Oh—Hannah Esh, in the flesh. I’m surprised to see you here. How’s the arm?”

  “Coming along, thanks. Would I need both hands to learn to shoot a handgun?”

  “No kidding? You want lessons? If an Amish woman shoots—and they’re few and far between—her dad or husband teaches her. But I’ll bet you don’t want to upset your family that you still feel you’re someone’s target.”

  “That’s true enough. I saw the interview you did for the television reporter. What you and Mrs. Freeman said made sense.”

  “And since you’ve been on the receiving end of a hate crime—or whatever it was—well, I applaud your bravery.”

  Bravery, patriotic bravery, seemed to be the theme of this place, Hannah thought as she glanced around. Of course, she expected this small front store to be lined with glass-covered cases and shelves with rifles and guns of all kinds, hopefully under lock and key. Although the store sold fishing supplies, as well, only a corner seemed to be devoted to rods, tackle and nets. When Elaine had inherited her uncle’s store, she’d probably just kept the name and concentrated on what she really loved.

  Pictures of Elaine in an army uniform with medals on her chest hung on one side wall with a huge American flag with gold fringe on the other. As Seth and Linc had mentioned, she liked eagles; there was a large picture of one swooping at something with talons outstretched.

  Hannah pictured again that eagle feather that had been stuck in her window as some sort of boast or warning. She could picture Elaine hefting a ladder and handling the climb, but she still could not accept that a woman had shot at them. But for a cause…and from a woman who had no doubt shot people in defense of her country, it was possible. Elaine Carson seemed to give no ground on what she believed. A sign on the back of the cash register proclaimed America—Love It or Leave It!

  Ms. Carson plunked the box of bullets down on the counter and came closer. “As you may know, Hannah, guns have a big kick—a recoil. Even handguns, especially for a woman, should be steadied with both hands. But I’d love to teach you to protect yourself. Can’t promise you’d be able to pick off an attacker in the dark, but close.”

  Did she mean anything by that? She did have a motive in that she seemed to dislike the Plain People for their pacificism. And, come to think of it, Ms. Carson had once gotten in real trouble with the church elders for putting little American flags in the ground around the graveyard at Fourth of July time—which the church had immediately removed.

  “For now,” Ms. Carson went on, “why don’t you just come observe how I teach Lily Freeman, and then you’ll have a head start when your wrist heals. I’m glad you’re no longer with those crazy goths, and maybe you’ll start a new trend among your women, so no charge for now, how’s that?”

  “That couldn’t be better!” Hannah told her, and meant it. She could keep an eye on both Lily for Ray-Lynn and on Elaine Carson for herself. She asked when Lily would be taking lessons and said she’d join them after Naomi’s wedding. After all, she had to put family first these next two days, until all that excitement was over and she had her horse and buggy back for getting around on her own, no matter what Seth and Linc said.

  15

  THE MORNING OF Naomi’s wedding, Hannah’s family rose at 4:15 a.m. Daad and the church elders had finished setting up tables and benches in the living and dining rooms for folks to eat in two shifts. Hannah kept an eye on the ovens and stove tops in the house and the wedding wagon, which were manned—that, is, womanned—by family and friends. Their task was to brown, then bake, three hundred pounds of chicken, peel kettles full of potatoes and make huge saucepans of gravy. It was an honor to be asked to help at a wedding, whether as a cook, usher, waiter or hostler, who handled the many horses and buggies. A black sea of buggies surrounded the Esh and Kauffman houses by the time the sun rose.

  The Plain People always pitched in with preparations for a wedding, but Hannah soon saw she’d have to work extra hard at this one. Not that almost four hundred guests was an unusual number to handle, since visitors stayed at other homes and the church service itself was in the Kauffmans’ barn. The problem was people seemed focused not only on the coming service and celebration, but on the desecration of the graveyard. And though Naomi was supposed to be the center of attention, Hannah saw it was often focused on the other Esh girl—her—who had caused such upheaval.

  Some folks were happy to see her and to have her back. But Mrs. Zook, whose brother’s grave had been disturbed, suggested that since someone had tried to hurt Hannah, she might want to leave the Home Valley for a while, perhaps going to Indiana or Pennsylvania with some of their relatives here for the wedding. Others told her they weren’t a bit surprised that the evil of the world followed her back home, and they were praying for her safety.

  “All this for a five-minute ceremony after a three-hour church service,” Ella whispered to Hannah as they peeked in the window at the line of people greeting the bride and her reddish-haired groom inside the house. It was still dark outside; the line had begun forming at 7:00 a.m. Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best. The bishop welcomed each person at the front door, and after they went through the reception line, they headed for the Kauffman barn.

  Naomi radiated joy; Josh looked a bit overwhelmed. The bridal couple were seated at the place of honor, the corner table called the eck, where they would preside over the noontime dinner after church. Peering through the window, Hannah could see that, when Naomi and Josh were not shaking hands, they held hands under the table. During their wedding service would be the only approved time the couple would ever publicly hold hands, for unlike moderns, her people were not affectionate in public. And here, she scolded herself, she’d dared to hug Seth out in the yard when he buggied in two days ago! How the world—or desperation—had changed her.

  “Someday, it will be our turn,” Ella said with a sigh, interrupting Hannah’s silent agonizing. “We won’t just be outside, looking in—oh, you know what I mean. And then there’s Sarah…” Her voice trailed off. “I wish her well, but she’s making a big mistake marrying a worldly man.”

  “I wish you could go to her wedding with Ray-Lynn and me. You know we always
promised we’d be together on the days the three of us were wed.”

  “Hannah!” she said, and tugged at her good arm so she spun to face her. “She’s broken her vow to the church, to all of us. Besides, if I went, I couldn’t go inside the church, anyway.”

  “It’s a chapel attached to a church of Anabaptists and Bible believers, just like us—well, not really like us. Since she’s under the meidung, she’ll just have to settle for some lavender products from you, then. I know she’ll be grateful even for that gesture.”

  “Are you going to sing?”

  “I am. It’s the only gift I can afford to give them now. I’m grateful to Nate, too.”

  They walked away from the window, back toward the wedding wagon with its rich aroma drifting toward them. “Hannah, listen. That FBI man—I heard he’s invited to the dinner and reception today.”

  “My parents asked him, though he may be too busy to stay long.”

  “I just—I want to be sure you don’t make the same mistake with him that Sarah’s making—leaving, being unequally yoked.”

  “What? That’s a crazy idea! Did someone say something that—”

  “Naomi just thought he really cared for you.”

  “I should hope a man whose job it is to investigate and fight crimes cares about his victims—I mean, the victims. And I want to help him, but that’s all.”

  “That’s how it started with Sarah and Nate. But I think Naomi’s wrong to think you’d take up with Agent Armstrong.”

  “I’m glad to hear you’re on my side. If this wasn’t her special day, I’d set her straight right now!”

  “I still think it’s Seth you care for. I’ve watched you watching him, even when he got out of his buggy today. If you want him back, you’d better not put it off. I don’t know if anyone told you, but he has two very willing maidals sighing over him—Katie Weaver and Susan Zook.”

  Hannah fought not to be angry with Ella—and not to care about what she’d just said. “I didn’t know, but why should I? Not only have I been gone, but he’s an unmatched man, free to do what he wants.” But, she thought, of course a catch like Seth Lantz, even with a child, would have a choice of young women. He wouldn’t mourn Lena forever, even with his concern for her grave. And now she knew why Mrs. Zook, Susan’s mother, had urged her to leave Home Valley for a while, as if Linc or her parents would let her go right now. “I’ve got to get back to keeping an eye on the food,” she told Ella, annoyed when her friend rolled her eyes at the obvious change of topics, “but I am going over to the barn for the service and wedding.”

  “I’ll get you, and we’ll go together,” Ella said, and hurried off to where she was helping the other sidesitters, named for their places of honor at the reception table next to the bride and groom. They were decorating Josh’s buggy out in the barn with hand-lettered signs and streamers.

  Fuming at what Ella had said, Hannah headed back into the busy, crowded wedding wagon where the kettles of potatoes had steam pushing out from the edges of their covers. Good, she thought. That way no one would see the steam coming out her ears.

  To best fit the shape of the Kauffman barn, the rows of separate benches for men and women were set up at a slant, one set on each side of an aisle, slightly facing each other. Hannah thought that was a good arrangement until Seth sat down exactly in her line of vision. To watch the preaching and the short wedding ceremony at the end, she’d be looking at him, too.

  Seth, as the vorsinger, or song leader, led the first hymn from the Ausbund, the traditional hymnbook. He did not go up in front or even stand, for that would make him too special. Hannah had not heard Seth’s deep bass voice and the unison singing of her people for nearly three years, and she blinked back tears. In the world, she’d become used to upbeat, solo, individualized or multipart singing. This was more like a Gregorian chant, and she sang out, blending her clear, alto voice with her people’s.

  During the second hymn, Naomi and Josh left the service for the Kauffman house with two of the elders. It was usually the bishop who took the bridal pair off for questioning about their preparation and purity for their union, but since the bishop was Naomi’s father, they’d changed that a bit. Besides, Daad was going to preach today. He focused on faithfulness and forgiveness, citing the trials of several biblical characters, so why did she feel he was speaking to her?

  At last Naomi and Josh came back in, holding hands. Over her blue wedding dress, Naomi wore a white apron, which she would never don again until she was laid out for her funeral. Her funeral…Hannah thought, as her mind drifted. She had not been here for Lena’s funeral or when they put her in the grave…and then someone dared to—

  On the bench beside her, Ella subtly elbowed Hannah. She had no clue why until she saw that Seth, whom she had been trying to ignore, was staring straight at her. Hannah felt her cheeks go hot. She fidgeted on the hard bench. Her stomach fluttered as if butterfly wings beat there, and her thighs, pressed tight together, tingled.

  She forced her eyes away from his magnetic gaze, looking instead at the Troyers, the bridegroom’s family: his parents, Levi and Rachel; his four brothers and their wives and children. Although all Amish sought to be humble, their special place in the community emanated from them. No wonder Naomi was nervous marrying into such a family. She began to wonder how it would have been to have married Seth, to be truly sisters with Ella—but then cut her own thoughts short.

  It was not a day to dwell on her losses, Hannah thought, but rather on Naomi’s gains as they prepared to take their final vows. And they would be final, for, among her people, unlike in the world, marriage really was “till death us do part.” No rings, no kisses, but permanent promises of love and duty.

  Her gaze snagged Seth’s again. This time he looked quickly away.

  Addressing the bridegroom at the conclusion of the short wedding service, her father’s voice rang out, “Do you promise, Joshua Troyer, that if your wife should be afflicted with bodily weakness, sickness or some similar circumstance, that you will care for her as is fitting a Christian husband?”

  “Ya, I will.”

  He then repeated the question to Naomi, who gave a louder, “I will.”

  The bishop put his hands over the couple’s clasped hands. “Then I wish you the blessing of God for a good beginning and a steadfast middle time, and may you hold out until a blessed end, this all in and through Jesus Christ. Amen.”

  It was done, Hannah thought. It was done just as she’d always planned and pictured it would be for her and Seth. Ruined. Gone. Over. And yet…

  She hugged Naomi after the ceremony, shook Josh’s hand, then almost sprinted back across the field.

  To Hannah’s surprise, Linc was waiting outside the Esh house. “Hey, good, you’re back before the crowd,” he said, and steered her into the small space between the house and wedding wagon. “I can’t stay long today, got to keep an eye on the team at the cemetery, but I want you to know we have recovered three bodies of unknown—as yet—victims who were in those graves. All head shots, from behind, execution-style.”

  “Execution? Not a crime of passion, as they put it?”

  He looked surprised she’d said that. He took her elbow as if he were afraid she’d bolt. “Hannah, we’ll do tests to see if it was the same gun that took out Kevin and shot you and Tiffany. But this is huge—diabolical and huge! Sorry to tell you all that on a day like this,” he added when he took in her shocked expression, “but I thought you should know.”

  “Does Seth know?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Did you ever come across another case like this one?”

  “That’s my Hannah, ever the clear thinker, even when distracted or in danger. No, I haven’t seen a situation where a body was stashed in someone else’s grave, but the Bureau has dealt with victims buried a ways from where they’d been whacked.”

  “Whacked?”

  “Hit—killed. In 2004, in a remote vacant lot in Queens, New York, the FBI uncovered a ha
lf dozen graves of victims executed by a New York City mob. I doubt if the bodies in the Home Valley graveyard were eliminated in this immediate area—their disappearances or deaths would have been reported. Of course, we’re cross-checking in national databases, missing persons in Ohio and the surrounding states, all of that. I’d guess these corpses are the result of some big-money drug deal gone bad in a city, but it’s sure unique, even clever, to stash hits here. Hey, here comes the crowd, so let’s go in for a while.”

  “I have to oversee some things,” she said, angry with how excited he seemed over all this horror. He’d been so stoic and businesslike before. “Family members at our weddings work hard,” she told him as she freed her arm and edged away. After what Ella had said, she didn’t want to seem as if she was with him, but she couldn’t help asking, “How is it you can just turn from one thing to the other—the terrible things you see in your work and then a social situation? How do you turn it all off to sleep at night?”

  His gaze went over her. “I shut it out, a necessity of the job to turn emotions off and on, or I’d never survive. I have pleasant dreams at night. But this investigation has new possibilities now I’d never imagined when I said I’d look into a rural shooting, a possible hate crime—nor that there would be a day where I’d be involved with love as well as hate.”

  Hannah’s eyes widened and her lower lip dropped until she realized he was talking about his invitation to a wedding reception—wasn’t he? She turned her head and saw Naomi and Josh’s arrival was nearly engulfed by the crowd of well-wishers.

  “Please stay as long as you can. You’re welcome here,” she told Linc as she hurried farther away from him and was swept into the house among family and friends.