Appleseed Creek Trilogy, Books 1-3

by Amanda Flower

Trouble? What kind of trouble?

  Clark scrunched his nose. “Do you think Klink realized he just compared Harshberger to dog food? Small but mighty?”

  “Naw. He probably thought he made that up,” Miller said. He held up his hand, and Clark gave him a high five.

  I broke into their gab session. “How small is Harshberger?”

  “We have around seven hundred students,” Clark said.

  “That’s tiny.”

  “You didn’t research the college before moving here?” Clark asked.

  “Well, I was interviewed last Wednesday. Dean Klink offered me the job over the phone and asked me to start as soon as possible. I didn’t have enough time to research the college as much as I normally would have.” I didn’t tell them how desperate I was for a job—any job—and that this one seemed tailor-made for me. At least it did over the phone. Maybe I should have asked more questions before accepting.

  Miller turned a wireless mouse over and over again in his hands. “Joel was right.”

  Clark widened his eyes at Miller.

  Miller shrugged and said it again. “Joel was right about what?” I asked.

  Clark laughed. “Just ignore Miller. Sometimes what he says doesn’t make sense. Programmer talk. If you hear him muttering to himself throughout the day, don’t be alarmed.”

  Yeah, right. I reminded myself to breathe. “What are your positions here?”

  Clark spoke for both of them. “I’m the media guy. Video, audio, stuff like that. I set up for campus events. Miller is a programmer, as if you couldn’t tell from his mole-like squint.”

  Miller ignored the comment.

  I hid a smile. “Do either of you want to show me around?”

  Miller and Clark shared another look. “Joel will want to do that.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Okay.”

  I skirted around the enormous desk and sat in my captain’s chair. Although small, the office had a nice window that overlooked a pond. Charlie had called the pond Archer Lake, but it wasn’t large enough to hold a rowboat, and the dozen or so mallards wading in it jostled for space. Compared to Lake Erie where I grew up, Archer was a puddle.

  I opened my briefcase and pulled out the two frames that held my master’s degrees, and a third, a photo of Tanisha and me. I set all three on the desk for the time being and logged onto my new work e-mail account. Nothing of any importance there yet—mostly generic campus announcements and a few welcome e-mails. One welcome e-mail was from Clark, which made me feel a little better. I wasn’t sure what was going on in the computer services department, but I was surprised by how nervous the dean became when we stepped into the office. What could possibly make the man so nervous? And what was Joel right about?

  I shook away my thoughts, making way for new ones. I typed “rumspringa Amish” into Google and thousands of hits came back. I leaned toward the screen. Rumspringa was loosely translated as “running around.” It was a time of freedom for Amish youth, a time for them to consider whether or not to join the church. The website said that after joining the church, the young men and women were expected to get married and raise families.

  I typed “Amish Ohio” into my search engine and received even more hits. Holmes County was the largest concentration of Amish in the state and country with a population more than twenty thousand. Although a smaller population than Holmes, Amish have lived in Knox County for generations.

  A male voice spoke up behind me. “Researching the locals, I see.”

  I jumped and closed the browser, then spun my chair to find a man in about his early fifties standing over me. His pale complexion looked nearly translucent against his neatly parted brown hair. A roll of fat hung over his waistband.

  I stood. “I’m Chloe Humphrey.”

  “I know who you are. I’m Joel Shrock.” He held out his hand, and I shook it, his palm damp. I fought the urge to wipe my hand on my pant leg.

  “It’s nice to meet you. You’re the assistant director of our department, correct?”

  His lip curled when I said “assistant,” and he didn’t respond.

  “I know we will be working closely together. I’m sure we will get along just great.” I found myself babbling, and the more I did, the more Joel scowled.

  He glared at the two master’s degrees on my desk, one in computer programming, the other in information technology. “I know those fancy degrees from those lofty schools are the reason you got this job.” He examined me. “But by the looks of you, you won’t be here long.”

  I recoiled. True, it wasn’t my plan to be in Appleseed Creek long, but that was my choice, not some employee’s. I laughed as if he’d told a joke. “It’s only my first day, but I’m excited to get to work.”

  He scowled. “I thought you’d like to see the server room.”

  I set my jaw. “I would.”

  I waved to Clark and Miller as we passed through the workroom, but both stayed hunched over their computers with their heads down. Something was going on, and I made a mental note to ask Dean Klink about it at the first opportunity. What had I gotten myself into?

  I followed Joel down the employee stairs and through a labyrinth of dark hallways to reach a far corner of the building with a locked door. Since summer classes were over and the faculty wasn’t on campus, the classrooms, offices, and hallways sat empty.

  Joel unlocked the door, and inside loomed a seven-foot tall rack of ten servers. The hum of them at work soothed my nerves. This was my strength. This is what I knew. Here, I was the expert.

  I stepped closer to the rack and examined the machines, black rectangles, one stacked on top of the other. My shoulders tensed. “These models are at least nine years old.” Usually a server was replaced every five years, max. Keeping one any longer than that was gambling with your network. I zeroed my sights on Joel. “What’s the server replacement plan?”

  He smirked. “I suppose that’s your decision as director.”

  I blew out a breath and slipped out of the room, the closed space far too tight. Especially with Joel snarling over my shoulder.

  Joel closed and locked the door behind us. “I guess you have your work cut out for you, Miss Director.” He turned and stomped away, leaving me alone to find my own way back to my office.

  Chapter Six

  I returned from my new employee orientation by midafternoon. My mind had wandered to Joel during most of the meeting. What was his problem with me? I couldn’t expect all of my employees to like me, but I hadn’t expected them to be antagonistic toward me either.

  Lord, help me to understand Joel and get this department on the right track. If that doesn’t work, You might have to shorten my time here from two years. I couldn’t imagine working with Joel and his awful attitude for long.

  I pulled the sack lunch of a ham sandwich, pickles, crackers, and chocolate chip cookies from my tote bag. If Becky kept feeding me like this, it would be hard to ask her to leave my house. It would also be hard to avoid gaining fifteen pounds like Harshberger’s freshmen. Becky’s food was delicious, but it packed more calories into one meal than I usually ate in three days.

  As I ate lunch, I read the employee manual. A tap, tap on my doorframe caught my attention. Timothy smiled at me. “I see Becky’s made good use of the groceries I brought you.”

  I gathered up the remnants of my lunch, tucked the sack under my desk, and stood. “Yes, she has. Thank you so much for the food. It was very kind of you.” As I sat on the corner of my desk, I knocked over the metal cup filled with pens and pencils. The cup rolled off the desk, its contents flying every direction. I stifled a groan. Between this and the bed frame incident, Timothy was bound to consider me a complete klutz.

  Timothy started to pick up the writing utensils from the floor.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I can
get it.”

  He ignored me and finished gathering up all the fallen pieces.

  I peeked out the door, happy to see the computer guys had left for lunch. At least my clumsiness was limited to Timothy’s inspection . . . again.

  He placed the last pencil in the cup. “Becky tells me she’s living with you.”

  I swallowed. “I said she could stay with me for a few days. We haven’t discussed anything permanent. She’s a nice girl and has been a big help as I get settled here.” I cracked a smile. “And my cat likes her. That’s no small feat.”

  He didn’t smile back. “My sister needs to go back home. My parents are worried.”

  “I can understand their worry. Maybe it would help if Becky explains how she’s feeling to your parents.”

  Timothy shook his head. “It’s time for her go home, join the church, and marry a nice man.”

  “You mean Bishop Glick’s son.”

  “She told you, then?”

  I nodded. The ham sandwich felt like a rock in my stomach.

  His blue eyes narrowed. “This is none of your concern. It’s a private business. The church is important.”

  “I agree. The church is very important. Becky told you I was a Christian.”

  Timothy’s brows shot up and he took a tiny step back. “That’s what she said.” He spoke slowly, as if unconvinced.

  His doubt stung. “You decided not to join the church, isn’t that right?”

  He paused, as if weighing my question. “It is a decision you could never understand.” Then he turned on the heel of his boots and marched from the room.

  He was right. I couldn’t understand. Not at all.

  I was exhausted by the time I left Harshberger that afternoon to meet Becky downtown. When I pulled the RAV4 into a parking space in front of the bakery, it was after five, and many of the shops along the square were closed for the day. Buggies waited by the curbs ready to take shopkeepers home. I kept an eye out for any who may come along and roll up the sidewalks. Within two minutes Becky stumbled out of the bakery.

  She jumped into my car, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just go.”

  “Becky—”

  “Please!”

  “All right.” I shifted the car into reverse. Through the display window, a girl in a bright white apron and dark blonde hair watched us drive away.

  When we reached the house, I pulled into the driveway, but Becky ran into the house before the car came to a complete stop.

  Upstairs, I stood in her doorway. “Do you want to talk about it?” She was lying across her bed.

  Becky mumbled into her pillow.

  “I can’t understand you when you talk into your pillow like that.”

  She flipped over. “No one will give me a job.”

  I sat on the edge of her bed. “No one?

  “I went to every shop in Appleseed Creek and no one would hire me.” She rolled over and clutched the pillow to her chest. “They wouldn’t even talk to me,” Becky added in a whisper.

  “Maybe they didn’t have any openings.”

  “It wasn’t that.” Tears threatened to fall again. “They wouldn’t talk to me because I left home, because I’m no longer Amish.”

  “I’m sorry, Becky.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “And now you are going to kick me out. Where am I going to go? I can’t go home. I can’t.” Her huge blue eyes swam with tears.

  Ten years earlier, when I was fourteen, I’d lain across Tanisha’s bed in tears, begging Mr. and Mrs. Green to take me in. They had. How could I turn her away now? Becky was five years older than I was at the time, but in many ways I had been older than she. I certainly knew the kind of pain that the outside world could cause.

  “Listen,” I said, smoothing the wrinkles away from the comforter, “you can stay here as long as you need to.”

  Her face lit up, and she sat up and wrapped me in a hug. “Thank you, Chloe! You’re like a big sister to me now.”

  My cell phone rang, and I jumped off the bed to answer it. I fished through my purse, checked the readout, and grimaced.

  Becky clutched that pillow to her chest again. “Who is it?”

  My shoulders drooped. “My evil stepmother.” I took the phone into my bedroom. “Hello, Sabrina.”

  My stepmother sniffed into the phone. “Chloe, your father’s sorry he couldn’t speak to you himself, but you know how busy he is.”

  “I do.” I stood by my bedroom window.

  “I’m glad,” Sabrina replied. “He’s pleased you found gainful employment. We were worried that all the money spent on your education would go to waste.”

  I gripped the cell phone. “Please tell him thank you.”

  Gigabyte jumped on the windowsill and bumped his head on my hip. The sound of a truck backfiring tore through the quiet, and I shivered. The green pickup rolled by on the street below.

  Sabrina continued. “I’m glad I have you on the line. I wanted to talk to you about Thanksgiving.”

  “That’s four months away.”

  The truck’s taillights disappeared around the corner.

  Sabrina sniffed. “Yes, I know, but you can’t know how difficult it is to coordinate everyone’s schedules. Your father and I have decided to go on a cruise Thanksgiving week, so we won’t be having our usual get-together. It will be good for him to get away. He works far too hard. I told him you’d understand.”

  “Are you taking the kids?” I barely knew my eight-year-old half sister Brin and six-year-old half brother Blake. I only saw them when my father flew me out to California for Thanksgiving once a year. I flew in on Wednesday night and out on Friday morning. That’s how it had always been since he’d met Sabrina.

  “Of course, they are too young to leave behind.” She said this as if I should have known better. “This must come as a relief for you. I know you’d much rather visit with your friend Tamara than come see us.”

  “It’s Tanisha,” I said. “She’s in Italy.”

  “Oh, well, Thanksgiving in the country will be nice for you.” Her voice trilled. “It will be a learning experience.”

  I inhaled a deep breath, listening to her chatter on about all that Brin and Blake had accomplished since we’d last talked. Then she hung up. As I set down the phone, the green pickup cruised down the street for the second time that evening.

  Chapter Seven

  For the next week, I watched for signs of the green pickup. The nights I didn’t see it cruise up and down Grover were the worst, because I lay awake half the night waiting to hear the familiar backfire. When it would finally split the night air, it almost came as a relief.

  On Friday morning, I tried to put the green pickup out of my head as I walked to Harshberger. As I stepped onto campus, a silver sedan turned onto the college’s private road and sped past me, dangerously close. I stumbled onto the grass, my heel sinking into the damp earth. I stood there until my heart slowed, then slipped my foot out of the shoe and headed to work.

  That morning I had scheduled a meeting with my staff, knowing I would need to be alert. In the week I’d known him, Joel had been, at best, passive-aggressive toward me; at worst, openly hostile. I was pleased to see all were there when I entered the workroom. Maybe there was hope for our little department yet.

  Clark smiled at me when I took my seat at the head of the table; Miller fidgeted with his laptop cord, wrapping it around and around his index finger; and Joel glared at me. I repressed a sigh.

  “Good morning, everyone,” I said. “I—”

  “How’s your shoe, boss.” Joel smirked.

  My chest constricted. “My shoe?”

  “I saw you almost take a tumble. You should be more careful.”

&nb
sp; “Seriously, dude,” Clark mumbled.

  I gritted my teeth. “I want to begin this meeting today by saying I’m so glad to be here at Harshberger. I’m looking forward to offering new services to our students. For one, we need to investigate a course management system so that professors can more easily communicate with their students online, and—”

  My cell phone played the “Star Spangled Banner.” The Fourth of July was long over, but I’d yet to change my ringtone.

  Joel glowered at me. “Most of us don’t carry our personal phones while on campus. It interferes with college business.”

  I ignored Joel’s comment and fumbled to reach the phone in my pocket. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was an Appleseed Creek area code. I silenced the phone and placed it on the table next to my laptop computer. “I’m excited about working with all of you. Together, we can bring Harshberger up to speed in the twenty-first century.”

  Joel scowled. “Are you saying we aren’t in the twenty-first century?”

  “No, no, of course, I’m not saying that at all. However, there are things we can do to improve.”

  “I’m sure the college thinks having you here is a big improvement.” Joel muttered just loud enough for me to overhear.

  Clark leaned back in his chair. “Joel, give it a rest, man.”

  I shot him a grateful smile, but he didn’t meet my gaze.

  Joel glared at Clark but shut his mouth.

  I straightened the stack of files on the table. “As I was saying—”

  My phone played the “Star Spangled Banner” again. I checked the readout. It was the same number as before.

  “How patriotic of you,” Joel quipped.

  I stood up. “I think I better take this. It’s a local number. It could be related to the college.”

  Joel rolled his eyes. “If it was college related, whoever it was would call your office phone.”

  “I’ll be right back.” I stepped inside my office and shut the door. “Hello?”

  From the other end of the line came a muffled sob. “Chloe?”