I sat back. “It changes things.”
“You’re right about that. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you to meet with the girls?”
“I’m sure.”
It was too narrow to turn around in the Zug’s driveway, so Timothy backed all the way out. As he did, James, his sheep, and his barn, grew smaller and smaller. Halfway down the drive, a face, pale and still, peeked out of the barn, and watched us go. It could have been either of the women standing there, but I was betting on Abby.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Before I left Young’s, I went looking for Becky to make sure she had a ride home. I found her standing next to Aaron at the hostess desk, laughing at something he said. Her eyes were bright. Nope, Becky wasn’t upset by Isaac’s upcoming wedding—not one bit.
“Chloe?” She blushed. “Aaron said you were here. Where have you been?”
“Timothy and I visited with Ellie.” I didn’t mention our trip to the sheep farm.
Becky frowned. “How is she? She hasn’t been in the restaurant all day. I think this is the first day since I started working here that I haven’t seen her.”
“She’s baking.”
Becky nodded as if that made complete sense. For someone who loved to cook and bake as much as Becky, it probably did.
“I’m going to take off now. Do you have a ride?”
She nodded. “Timothy found a new chain for my bike and put it on this morning.”
As I drove out of Young’s parking lot, a small red coupe cruised in. I blinked. The driver was Collette Williams. What was Harshberger’s marketing director doing at Young’s? Young’s was one of the best restaurants in the county, so Collette might just be having dinner there. At least this is what I would have thought if I hadn’t known about her interest in my connection to the Amish in Knox County.
I turned my thoughts from Collette to the Zug family. Was it a coincidence that two people from the same family, Abby and Ezekiel, were attacked? Did I believe James Zug’s alibi? Timothy said he would call one of his friends, who worked at the auction barn, to see if James was really there the night Ezekiel was murdered. Perhaps Abby would speak to me away from the other girls.
I still had over an hour before my meeting with Leah and her friends at The Apple Core. I drove home and was relieved to find Gig the only one there.
At five o’clock on the dot, I stepped into The Apple Core. There were no customers and half of the shop’s lights had been turned off. Leah locked the door after me. “Debbie and Abby are already here. They are stocking the shelves in the back of the store. We like to do this after the shop closes, so we don’t bother any customers.”
We wove through the aisles of gifts. On the back wall a tall girl in a plain, navy dress and white prayer cap, Debbie I assumed, handed Christmas-patterned tins to Abby who stood on a step ladder. The girls moved together in a comfortable rhythm. Pick up, hand, and place. Pick up, hand, and place. They didn’t speak. I couldn’t imagine Tanisha and I working together as quietly. Once we tried to paint the living room in our old apartment and got more paint on each other than on the wall. Mr. Green came over and finished the job in record time.
Leah said something to them in Pennsylvania Dutch.
A tin froze in Debbie’s hand. She replaced it on the stack and turned to face me. She had dark, wide-set eyes, and a slight overbite.
“Chloe, this is Debbie, and Abby is on the ladder.”
Abby shimmied down the ladder’s rungs, giving no indication that we had met only two hours before. “I already told them about what happened to Grandfather Zook.”
“And Abby’s uncle?” I asked.
Abby kept her head down.
Debbie was breathless. “Ezekiel Young was a cranky man, but it’s hard to believe that anyone would hurt him. We never—”
“We don’t know anything about what happened to Grandfather Zook,” Leah said. “Or Ezekiel.”
I unzipped my coat. “You think it was the same person?”
“Maybe it was someone different.” Debbie wrapped her arms around her waist. “Maybe over a bad business deal? My father said Ezekiel Young could talk a man out of his favorite horse and make him feel bad for not giving the horse up sooner.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Abby shuffle a few steps back.
Leah called over her shoulder. “You can talk to us as we stock. We all have to get home soon.” She picked up a box of wooden dolls painted to resemble Amish people and set them delicately, one by one, on the wooden shelves across from the girls stocking tins.
“Can I help?” I asked. “It will make your work faster.”
“There’s a box by the door to the stock room that has Christmas ornaments. Hang them on the wire stand at the end of the row.”
“Do you have a Christmas tree to hang them on?”
“Amish don’t have Christmas trees.”
No Christmas tree? “If you don’t have a Christmas tree, why do you have the ornaments?”
“Because the Englischers buy them,” she said.
“Right.” I picked up the box and positioned it near the stand. I could see all three girls clearly from my spot.
Abby climbed back up the ladder. Debbie handed her a tin, her hand shaking.
“Debbie, can you tell me what happened to you?”
She shot a quick glance at Leah before she started talking. “I was on my way home from work. Most of the time, I work in the cheese shop next to the bakery, and I help out here when Leah needs me. I was just outside of Appleseed Creek when someone ran up from behind and cut my hair.”
I had an ornament suspended in my hand. It spun on its plastic thread. “Someone ran up and cut your hair, just like that?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t try to run away or fight back?”
She shook her head.
“Did you hear the person running toward you?”
She blushed. “No.”
That was hard to believe. “Why not? They couldn’t have been completely silent.”
“I was listening to my MP3 player.”
I blinked at her.
“I haven’t been baptized yet,” she said defensively. “I’m allowed to experiment.” She straightened in her seat and removed the lime green device from her pocket. “One of my Englisch friends at the cheese shop gave it to me. I tell her what music I like and she loads it on my device from her computer. I don’t use the computer myself.” Her eyes widened. “You’re not going to say anything, are you? My daed and the bishop wouldn’t like it.”
I held up a hand in mock Girl Scout salute, which was lost on the Amish girls. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“The music was loud, and I didn’t hear the person until it was too late.”
“Did you see the person?”
She shook her head.
“He threw a burlap bag over your head just like he did to me,” Leah said.
Debbie shot a glance at Leah, who gave the faintest of nods. “That’s right.”
Was I wrong to think Leah was coaching her friends? “What about you, Abby?” My forehead creased. “How could someone cut off your hair if there’s a bag over your head?”
Leah glared at me. “You don’t believe us.”
“I didn’t say that.” I spun a Christmas ornament in my hand. “I’m only trying to understand.”
Debbie and Abby looked at Leah for the answer.
“The person surprised us from behind and threw the bag over our heads. While we struggled to get it off, he knocked us down to the ground. While we were pinned to the ground, he lifted the bag just enough to rip off our bonnets and cut off our hair.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “We were taught not to fight back. Even if we’d wanted to, we were too scared to do it.” Leah turned
to her friends. “Isn’t that what happened?”
They nodded.
I remembered the abrasion on Sadie’s cheek from being thrown to the ground. There was no such mark on any of the girls.
“Where are the burlap bags that were over your heads?”
Leah slid a box of trinkets across the floor. “I told you I threw mine away. Debbie and Abby did the same thing. We don’t want a reminder of such a horrible memory around us.”
Abby dropped the tin and it rolled on its side across the pine plank floor.
Debbie chased after it and picked it up.
Leah placed four more figures on the shelf in a tight row. Tap, tap, tap, tap. “Abby, tell her what you told us.”
She’s definitely coaching them. Why?
“I was delivering eggs to my neighbor’s house. They weren’t home, so I left them on the front porch. I was writing a note to them when someone came up from behind me.”
I hung two more ornaments on the display. “You didn’t hear them either.”
She shook her head.
“You had an MP3 player too?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Who was the neighbor?”
“It was the Lambright family, but like I already said. No one was home.”
Anna Lambright is Ruth’s best friend.
“And your uncle?” I asked.
Abby climbed down the ladder. She was shivering so hard, she nearly missed a rung. “I don’t know anything about my uncle or how he died.” She glanced at Leah. “My mother and grandmother are heartbroken over his death.”
Tears pooled in Debbie’s eyes. “I can’t believe this has happened. Nothing bad ever happens here.”
“Have you told all of this to the police?” I asked.
Leah adjusted the Amish figures on the shelf. “The deacon advised us not to because this is a district problem.”
“Now that there’s been a murder, it’s much more than a district problem.” I hung another ornament and it spun from its wire.
Leah cleared her throat. “I spoke with the police because Darren asked me too. Abby and Debbie haven’t.”
Debbie clutched a tin to her chest. “We can’t. The bishop wouldn’t like it. Things are bad enough.”
“Bad how?” I asked.
“We’ve been mutilated.” Again, Leah answered for her friend.
“Because your hair was cut?”
Leah slammed a final wooden doll on the shelf. “It’s so horrible. Everyone stares at us since it happened, and what man will want to marry a woman with short hair?”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “And the hair will grow back.”
“You don’t understand,” Debbie snapped. “We are forbidden from cutting our hair.”
“It wasn’t your decision to cut your hair, so how can anyone blame you?”
Leah flinched. “It doesn’t have to be our fault for the bishop to blame us.”
Debbie clutched a tin to her waist. “Everything in the district is different since Bishop Glick died. The deacon watches our every move and reports on what all the young people do at church.” She stuck her MP3 player back into her apron pocket. “If the bishop knew about my music, he would tell my parents and ban me from Sunday services for two weeks. He’s done it to others.”
“Why do you have the MP3 player, then?”
“Bishop Glick allowed it as long as I was discreet, which I am. My family hasn’t even seen it. Until I’m baptized, some rules about technology don’t apply to me.” Debbie handed a tin to Abby.
“Can’t the bishop set the rules?” I hung an ornament from the highest part of the display.
Abby climbed off of the ladder. “He can, but he’s not the one who is doing it. Deacon Sutter is.”
If the girls were so unhappy, why’d didn’t they leave the district? Not that it was easy. It had been difficult for Timothy and Becky, and they had an unusually supportive family—at least until the bishop reprimanded the Troyers.
Leah picked up her empty box and flattened it. “If you don’t have any more questions, we need to finish our work so we can go home.
I had more questions for Abby and Debbie, but clearly I would not get honest answers while Leah was around.
“That’s all,” I said.
“Gut.” Leah took the ornament box from me. “Danki for your help.”
I had been dismissed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
My cell phone vibrated on the nightstand. I squinted at it, stifling a yawn. Tanisha’s face grinned back at me from the picture I took of her when her parents and I dropped her off at the airport for her flight to Italy over five months ago. Hard to believe I hadn’t seen my best friend in such a long time. The screen went dark.
Almost immediately, the vibrating began again.
I snatched it up. “What time is it?”
“Noon here, which makes it six your time.” Her voice was chipper, as usual.
I groaned.
“Sorry to call so early, but I couldn’t wait another minute. Happy Thanksgiving!”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I mumbled, half into the phone, and half into my pillow.
“Anything new and exciting out in the country there?”
Her question made my eyes pop open. “You could say that.”
“Ooh, that’s sounds good. Does it have to do with dreamy Timothy? I almost died when you e-mailed me his picture. He’s hot.”
Heat rose in my cheeks.
“Are you blushing?”
“How would you know that?”
“Because you sound like you’re blushing.”
“I sound like it? You can’t sound like you’re blushing.” I flipped over onto my back.
“Trust me, you can. I always know when you are blushing. I wish I could find a boyfriend like Timothy.”
“First of all, Timothy is not my boyfriend. At least we’ve never spoken about it.”
She snorted. “From everything you’ve told me, you’re dating him.”
“We’ve never been on an actual date.”
“Girl, you need to ask him, then.”
“I can’t do that. He’s Amish . . . or used to be. He might be offended if a girl asked him out.”
“I don’t want to go all Women’s Lib on you, but if he has a problem with that, there might be bigger issues down the road. You’re not the type to sit home, have babies, and cook.”
“Who said anything about babies?” I yelped. Beth Hilty? Now, Tanisha? “And cooking. He already knows I can’t cook.”
“See, and he still likes you. He’s not as Old School as you think.” She paused. “Maybe he thinks you’re courting? How sweet is that? It’s like you’re living out a scene from Pride and Prejudice.”
“More like Little House on the Prairie,” I muttered. Desperate to change the subject, I ventured, “Speaking of guys, have you heard from Cole?” Cole was Tanisha’s former fiancé. He broke off their engagement months ago when she refused to leave her teaching job in Milan to marry him earlier than planned. This was after Cole never voiced concern about Tee being away for two years of their engagement.
It was Tee’s turn to groan. “Yes. I have ten e-mails from him in my inbox right now.”
“What do they say?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t opened any of them.”
“Tee . . .”
“I’m afraid to open them. What if he never wants to see me again?” She sighed. “What if he wants to get back together?”
“Which is worse?”
She groaned. “I don’t know.”
“Do you still love him?”
“I do, but there’s another problem.”
I didn’t like the sound of
this. “What?”
“You know how the dumpee keeps the engagement ring?”
“Uh-huh.” I had a sneaking suspicion this story wouldn’t end well. “You have the ring, then?”
“No.”
“You gave it back to him?”
“No.”
Uh-oh. “Tee, where is the ring?”
“Well . . .”
“Tee?”
She took a deep breath. “The weekend he dumped me was sweltering in the city. A group of teachers from school traveled to Lake Como to escape the heat. I went too.”
I didn’t like the sound of this. A lake was involved. I was afraid of what I would hear next.
“I kind of threw it into the lake.”
“You . . . kind of?”
“Okay, I did. I threw the ring into the lake. It felt good.” She paused. “At the time.”
I closed my eyes and saw the pear-shaped, one-carat diamond ring that I’d spent hours helping Cole select. He wanted the perfect ring for Tanisha, and I knew what she liked better than anyone. I winced at the cost of the ring. It would pay six months of my rent.
“Are you still there?” Tee asked.
I rolled over to the other side on the bed. “I’m here.”
“So, can’t you see why I’m afraid to talk to him?”
“No kidding.”
“And I don’t want to hear a lecture about why I shouldn’t have thrown the ring in the lake, okay?”
“I wasn’t going to give any.” I sighed. “Forward the e-mails to me. I’ll read them for you. If they’re bad I’ll give you the Cliff’s Notes version. If he wants to get back together, maybe he won’t be that upset about the ring. Maybe he will understand.”
“You think so?”
No. Not really. I wasn’t going to tell her what I thought Cole’s reaction would really be. Cole had expensive taste and appreciated money. He wouldn’t want his ring to be at the bottom of Lake Como.
To get both of our minds off of our pathetic love lives, I said, “I have other news.”
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