The restaurant’s front door opened letting in a burst of cold air. A large group of people stepped inside, and behind them, I could see even more stepping off of the tour bus.
“I’ll get out of your way,” I said.
Aaron winked at me and greeted his next guest. Aaron had said that Ellie’s house was behind the pavilion. In past visits, I had noticed a two-story home at the edge of the property and never thought much of it. I couldn’t go there now and interrupt her grief. I left the restaurant through a side door and walked around the building toward the pavilions. Maybe as a team, Timothy and I could think of what to do next.
I followed the sound of power tools. As I rounded the first pavilion, I saw two Amish men, one I had never seen before, speaking in their language. The man had a brown and gray beard and silvery hair sticking out from underneath his black felt hat. His face was drawn and he wore glasses over small eyes. The second man I knew right away—Deacon Sutter. The deacon was a tall man with a black beard and hair, and a perpetual scowl on his face. I’d never seen Deacon Sutter smile.
I took a step back. The last person I wanted to run into, aside from Curt and Brock, was the deacon. I slipped on some loose gravel, and the deacon turned. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m looking for Timothy.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “You are still bothering the Troyer family.” His lip curled. “I’ve warned the family about you.” Deacon Sutter turned back to his companion. “This is the Englischer I told you about, Bishop. She is the one who found Ezekiel Young. She tempted Rebecca and Timothy Troyer from the Amish way.”
Bishop? That made the other man, Bishop Hooley, Sadie’s father.
The bishop’s gaze met mine, his expression the same as Sadie’s this morning—sad, afraid, and weary.
I held my ground. “Both Timothy and Becky had left the Amish before I met them.”
The deacon swung back around, and his dark eyes narrowed. “But you insist on visiting the Troyers who are still Amish. You’re trying to lead them all from the Amish way.”
“No, I would never do that.” I glared back at him. “The Troyers are my friends.”
Deacon Sutter looked dubious. “Bishop Hooley made the right decision when he advised the district to keep their distance from the Troyers.”
“You’re shunning them.”
His jaw twitched. “What would you know about shunning? What you read in a book? You know nothing.”
My eyes flicked to the bishop. He didn’t say a word. He looked everywhere but at my face, as if he were afraid to make eye contact.
Deacon Sutter continued to speak for the bishop. “The Troyers are not shunned. The bishop has only advised district members to limit their contact. However, if they continue to disobey the rules of the district, the bishop will have no choice but to turn them out from the People.”
“Don’t you mean your rules, Deacon Sutter?” I asked.
“It may be fine to speak to your elders like that in the Englisch world, but it’s not in the Amish. If the Troyers are your friends, you would leave them alone. Instead you have chosen to be the reason they are alienated from the district.”
His words felt like a slap across the face. Maybe I shouldn’t go to the Troyers for Thanksgiving? Maybe it would push the bishop and deacon too far?
Deacon Sutter said something to the bishop in their language before the pair walked past me, gazes straight ahead, in the direction of the restaurant.
I stood there for a moment collecting myself. The Troyers were right. The deacon was in charge of the district now. The bishop had been too terrified to speak.
Now, I knew the truth. Becky thought she was the reason why her family was being ostracized. She wasn’t.
It was me.
Chapter Twenty
There you are!” Timothy’s voice broke through my black thoughts. He jogged up to me. “I was just inside the restaurant, and Aaron said you were here.” He studied my face. “What’s wrong?”
I bit my lip. I couldn’t tell him exactly what the deacon had said. What would he think if he knew I was the reason his family suffered? “I ran into Deacon Sutter and Bishop Hooley.”
Timothy made a face. “What did they have to say?”
“The bishop didn’t say anything.”
“No surprise there. Back when he was a preacher, and I was still in the district, his voice would shake when he preached. It was painful to sit through the services knowing he’d rather be doing just about anything else.”
“Why is he the bishop, then?” My teeth began to chatter. The sun was shining, but it was much colder outside than it looked.
“You’re shivering. Let’s go inside and get something hot to drink. Aaron’s in the break room.”
Timothy led me in through the kitchen entrance. Amish women moved around the stainless steel appliances with ease and efficiency. I followed Timothy into the break room, the same spot Chief Rose interviewed me in after I found Ezekiel’s body. The night of Ezekiel’s death I had been too woozy to notice much about the room. It was a simple space with the same small, white tile found in the kitchen and one wall lined with shelves, which served as overflow for the restaurant’s extensive pantry. There was a sofa there as well and a round table surrounded by six wooden chairs.
Aaron sat at the table eating a meat loaf dinner. “I could get used to this. Work a few hours and get all the food I can eat.”
The meat loaf smelled heavenly, and I realized I hadn’t eaten anything all day.
Aaron must have seen me drooling. “Want some?”
“I am hungry,” I admitted.
Timothy laughed. “I’ll go see if they have extra in the kitchen.”
I sat next to Aaron while he cut his meat loaf into tiny, uniform pieces. “Hmm, I’ve never heard Timothy offer to get food for someone, especially for a pretty girl.”
“He’s just being nice.”
“Really nice,” Aaron said.
Timothy reentered the room carrying a waitress’s tray of two meat loaf dinners with green beans, seasoned potatoes, and two glasses of Coke. “Order up!”
Aaron winked at me.
I thanked Timothy, and Aaron gave a short blessing over our impromptu meal.
I cut into the meat loaf, and it fell apart on my plate. “I met the bishop outside.”
“How’d that go?” Aaron asked.
“He doesn’t seem all that comfortable. Why didn’t he turn the job down?”
Aaron forked a red-skinned potato. “He can’t. He must do the work Gott has called him to do.”
“The district had to know that Bishop Hooley wasn’t comfortable with being a leader. Why didn’t it choose someone else?” I wanted to ask why the district chose someone like Aaron’s father to be deacon, but held my tongue. Father and son disagreed on many things, but Aaron was still the deacon’s son and must care for his father. If he didn’t believe that, wouldn’t he have left the district like Timothy had? My eyes fell on his wheelchair. Maybe he felt he had no choice but to stay.
“The district doesn’t pick the leaders of the church, which are the bishop, the deacon, and the two preachers. Gott chooses them.”
My forehead creased. “How?”
“Each man that the district puts forward gets a copy of a songbook. Inside one of the songbooks there is a piece of paper with a Bible verse written on it. The man who receives that songbook is the man selected by Gott. It is as simple as that.”
“It sounds a little like a game of chance,” I said.
Aaron frowned, and I was afraid I went too far. “I can see why you would think that, but we believe it is the best way to know the will of Gott.”
I thought about that. It seemed like a risky way to know God’s will.
Timothy pushed green beans arou
nd his plate. “Your father was with the bishop when Chloe met him.”
Aaron sipped from his coffee mug. “I knew they were here visiting with Ellie.”
“Has your father said anything about the haircutting?” I scooped up a forkful of green beans.
“He talks about it often. He believes it’s a church matter, and we should not involve the police. Now that there’s been a murder, the deacon won’t be able to keep the cops away.”
“Do you think the haircutting and the murder are related?”
“Yes,” he said, simply. “If they are not, then we have two crazies running loose in the county. I think the person doing this is Amish.”
I almost dropped my fork. “You do?”
He nodded. “What Englischer would know the significance of cutting off an Amish person’s hair? I suppose they could find that out in a book or from talking to someone, but that seems unlikely. To me, it seems like a particular insult given Amish to Amish.”
I considered that. This certainly ruled out Curt and Brock. They couldn’t be farther from Amish if they tried.
“You’re going to a wedding tomorrow.” Timothy said this as a statement, not as a question.
“I’ll be there.” Aaron’s brow knit together. “Is Becky upset about the wedding?” He squinted as if bracing himself for the answer.
“She was upset when she heard the news, but I think she was more surprised that they are marrying so quickly.” I smiled at Aaron. “But she’s not upset Isaac is marrying. I don’t believe she thinks of Isaac much anymore.”
A grin spread on the young Amish man’s face. “I’m glad to hear it.” He pushed back from the table. “I’d better head back to work. I don’t want to get fired. I kind of like working here. It might be a new career path for me.”
Timothy grinned. “Is it the work or your coworkers you are most interested in?”
Aaron smirked.
Timothy held the door for Aaron as he rolled out of the room. He closed it after his friend, then turned back to me. “How did it go at The Apple Core?”
“I’m meeting with Leah and her two friends late this afternoon.” I went on to tell him about my visit at The Apple Core.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, I think they are more likely to talk to me if I’m by myself.” I tucked my napkin under my plate. “I spoke with the chief.”
“You’ve been busy. And?”
“I asked her about any sign of struggle.” I went on to tell Timothy about how the crime scene techs believed Ezekiel’s last minutes went.
Timothy swallowed. “That’s awful.”
I blew out a breath. “I’d like to talk to Ellie before I head back into town.”
Timothy twisted his mouth. “Maybe you should wait until after the funeral.”
“That might be too late. Whoever is doing this may strike again.”
“I’ll see if Ellie can see us. If she says no, we have to respect her wishes.”
“Okay.” I forked the last piece of meat loaf, and it melted in my mouth. My diet was a complete disaster at this point.
“Did you find out who sent the flowers?” There was a forced casualness in his tone.
I swallowed and the tiny piece of meat loaf felt more like a baseball in my throat. “The flowers?”
“Yes.” He watched me.
I guzzled my Coke. “Actually, I did. I forgot to tell you about the float the college is putting on for the Holiday Parade.” I grimaced. “Dean Klink drafted me to be a snowman.”
A smile spread across Timothy’s face. “That will be a sight.”
“You have no idea. There was a fitting this morning and Dylan was there.”
His smile disappeared.
I scraped my fork on my nearly empty plate. “He told me that he sent the flowers as an apology for Monday.”
“That’s an expensive apology. Couldn’t he have just given you a note?”
“If he had, the student would have lost it,” I said, trying to turn it into a joke.
Timothy didn’t even crack a smile. “I was afraid of something like this.”
“Afraid of flowers?”
“I don’t like it. It’s too personal.” He flattened his hands on the tabletop. “I don’t like the idea of that guy having a key to your house.”
“We can’t really change the locks on him. He owns the place.” I pushed my plate away.
Timothy’s jaw twitched.
I stood. “I think we should spend less time worrying about Dylan and the flowers and more time worrying about the deacon and whoever killed Ezekiel. I told the chief we were looking into it.”
Timothy remained in his seat. “How’d she take that?”
“She didn’t say no.”
Timothy sighed and pushed his chair back. “I’m happier knowing she knows what you’re up to.” He stood. “I’ll go find Ellie.”
“Thank you.”
Timothy piled the plates back onto the serving tray. “Promise me you won’t push her too hard.”
“I promise.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Timothy kept his promise, and Ellie agreed to meet with me. In the late afternoon, we walked together toward her home. Although the air was cool, the sun’s rays warmed my face. Timothy laughed. “Enjoy the sun while you can, because bad weather is headed our way. The weatherman predicts snow. We haven’t had a white Thanksgiving in more than ten years. If there is enough snow, maybe we can talk Grossdaddi into hooking Sparky up to his sleigh.”
“Grandfather Zook has a sleigh?”
Timothy nodded. “He’s almost as proud of it as he is of his buggy.”
That was saying a lot.
As we got closer to the house, I notice two houses in the back of the property. The large white two-story home with gray shutters could be seen from the pavilions, but beyond that a smaller one-story ranch-style home stood behind it painted the same colors.
“The first house belongs to the twins,” Timothy explained as we passed the larger home. “Ellie and her husband lived there, but after her husband passed on, the family built the small home, leaving the big house for her sons.”
“Neither of the twins married?”
He shook his head.
Clearly Timothy didn’t know about Sadie and Ezekiel’s relationship. I wondered who did. It was a miracle the couple kept the secret in such a close-knit community. Did the bishop know about it? Did he approve or disapprove? Could I find out from Ellie if she knew without breaking Sadie’s trust?
Timothy squeezed my hand. “You look nervous.”
Several Amish men stood outside Ellie’s house, drinking coffee from metal thermoses. Remembering what the deacon said about my influence on the Troyer family, I removed my hand from Timothy’s grasp.
Timothy’s expression fell. He recovered, then approached the men, speaking to them in Pennsylvania Dutch.
A man who was a good foot taller than me stepped over to us. I got a crick in my neck looking up at him. “She’s grieving,” he said in English.
“I know,” Timothy said.
The man was stone-faced. “You will have to come another time.”
I stepped back, ready to go. The front door to Ellie’s home opened, and Uri poked his head out. “It’s okay, Levi. I knew they were coming. My mother is expecting them.”
Levi cracked his knuckles and stepped away from the door. I suspected he was the Amish equivalent of a bouncer. In the English world such a man would be outside of a bar. In the Amish world he was posted outside of a home in mourning.
Uri held the door open so that Timothy and I could enter. We stepped into the living room, its furniture simple except for a large china cabinet against one wall containing a collection of beautiful hand-
painted dishes. Three women sat in the room, working on needlepoint projects. They didn’t look up from their work when we entered.
The house smelled like cookies. “Maam is in the kitchen.” Uri’s eyes were bloodshot and no remnant of his teasing nature remained. Despite everyone saying the twins were not close, the death of Ezekiel had obviously come as a blow to his brother. He nodded toward the kitchen. “It’s the place she feels the most comfortable.”
We followed Uri through the shotgun-style house with the kitchen in the back. The restaurant’s kitchen had all the modern conveniences: stainless steel appliances, blenders, food processors, and electricity. Electricity was allowed in the family place of business. Their home was a different story. The kitchen was much like the one in the Troyer farm. It had running water, but the white appliances ran on propane, even the refrigerator, which hummed in the corner. A lit kerosene lamp hung low over the kitchen table causing me to wonder if anyone had ever knocked it with their head and caught their hair on fire.
“Maam,” Uri said. “Timothy and Chloe are here.”
Ellie pulled a cookie sheet out of the oven and placed it on the stovetop. She placed another sheet in the oven. “Have a seat and a cookie.”
The kitchen table was piled high with cookies: chocolate chip, peanut butter, shortbread, and the list went on. Each one perfectly baked. There wasn’t a burnt or misshapen cookie in the lot. “Wow, that’s a lot of cookies.”
She grunted as she straightened up. “I have to be ready for the viewing.”
Uri leaned against the wall. “Maam, you know every lady in the district would make the cookies for you.”
She eyed him. “They wouldn’t be half as good. I won’t have mediocre cookies at my son’s wake.”
I studied Ellie. Outwardly she appeared fine. Is this how the Amish women grieve? Through baking? More likely this reaction was specific to Ellie. Timothy and I sat at the table in front of a pile of white cookies that resembled coconut macaroons. They smelled like cinnamon. Despite having just eaten a full meat loaf dinner, my mouth watered.
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