She hurried over. “What’s going on?”
Timothy glanced at his sister. “Bishop Hooley and Deacon Sutter were just leaving.”
Becky chewed her lip and glanced up into the buggy. Her eyes lit up when she saw Aaron. He grinned back at her and cleared his throat. “You need to be careful, Becky. It’s not safe for you to ride your bicycle home this late. You could have been struck on the road.”
“I was careful.” She gave him a high-wattage smile.
The deacon watched their exchange. A red stain crept up Deacon Sutter’s neck and onto his wind-blown cheeks. He balled his leather-gloved hands into a tight fist as a knowing expression crossed his stern face followed by one of resolve. He snapped at his son in their language.
Aaron responded in English. “Becky is my friend. If I want to talk to her, I will.”
The deacon turned a peculiar shade of purple. He turned to Becky. “Stay away from my son.” His voice shook. “You will not lead him away.”
Becky glared at the deacon but did not reply. She wore her own look of resolve that twisted my stomach up into knots.
The bishop and deacon climbed into the buggy, and the Troyer siblings and I stepped back onto the front lawn of the house. As the buggy drove away, Aaron waved at us. Becky waved wildly back, with the deacon watching her in the buggy’s side mirror.
Timothy sighed when they were out of sight. “I need to get back to Young’s to make sure the job site is shut down for the night. Are you girls going to be okay?”
I nodded.
Becky picked up her bike and walked it to the garage.
Timothy touched my arm. “Before you go to bed tonight, take one of your kitchen chairs and shove it under the doorknob of the front door. That will make it more difficult for anyone to get inside the house.”
“Like the deacon?”
“Like Dylan.”
I stuck my hands in pockets. “I don’t think he’d bother us at night.”
Timothy didn’t appear convinced. “Maybe I should spend the night on the couch.”
I shook my head. “You need your rest, and that couch wasn’t made for sleeping on. We’ll be fine. I’ll use the kitchen chair.”
He smiled. “Thank you. Call me if you feel uncomfortable.”
“I will.”
When Becky and I were safely inside the house, I said, “I thought of another good reason to move.” I locked and bolted the front door.
“What’s that?” Becky asked.
I shoved the kitchen chair under the doorknob just as Timothy had told me to. “Deacon Sutter won’t know where we live.”
That night, I sat up in bed looking at that rough printout of Gerald Tanner’s original plans for the house on my iPad. I enlarged the space in the living room that was missing a wall. Then, I scanned the plans for the second floor. Another wall was missing between mine and Becky’s bedrooms. Instead of three small bedrooms on the second floor, there had been one large room and a smaller one. In the house now, the extra bedroom was empty. Becky and I didn’t have enough furniture to fill it.
I grimaced. Would Dylan want to knock down the wall between our bedrooms? I prayed Tyler was right and that getting out of the lease would be as easy as he thought.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Becky and I walked to church on Sunday morning. “Can we please avoid Hannah as much as possible?” she said. “I don’t want to hear how wonderful Esther’s wedding was.”
Fine by me.
I stepped over a pile of gray snow. “I thought you were over the fact that Isaac is married.”
“I am, but I still don’t want to hear about it.” She slid along the icy sidewalk like a child pretending to skate. I was only five years older than Becky, but sometimes I forgot how young she was. Having grown up Amish, she was much more naïve than other nineteen-year-olds I knew.
“I spoke with Tyler yesterday.”
“What did he say?”
“He will start working on the lease problem tomorrow.”
She looked crestfallen. “I’m still going to miss that house.”
“Me too.”
The church came into view. Because of the freezing temperature, no one stood outside waiting for the service to begin. The church’s snow-covered steeple appeared as if it had been cut from a postcard and carefully placed against the bright blue sky. Despite the cold, the sun shone. The bright winter sun and blue sky misled people into believing that nothing bad could happen in a place like Appleseed Creek. I knew better.
Becky slid to a stop. “Have you heard from your dad or Sabrina? Are they back from their trip?”
Her question made me stumble on the edge of the sidewalk. She put out a hand to steady me. The peace of the wintry scene vanished. “I haven’t heard from them and don’t expect to. I’m not sure when they are getting back. Sabrina doesn’t give me a detailed itinerary of their plans.”
“Do you think that they will ever visit you here?” She began skating again. “Will I meet them?”
I barked a laugh. “Not likely.”
She slid to a stop again. “Did I say something wrong?”
I forced a smile. “No.”
She frowned. “You never talk about them, and they’re your family. Don’t you miss them?”
“I do.”
“Then invite them to come here. I’m sure the children would love Ohio at Christmas. They will see snow.”
“Becky, it’s too complicated.” I shivered, imagining what my stepmother would think and say about Appleseed Creek. Surely, she would offend the entire town within the first fifteen minutes of her visit. “You have to understand that your family couldn’t be more different from mine.”
I hurried up the church’s steps speckled with rock salt, hoping that was the end of the conversation. A greeter opened the church door for us. “Good morning, ladies.”
We smiled and replied with our own good mornings.
Timothy and Danny sat in a pew toward the back of the sanctuary, and—surprise, surprise—Hannah and her minions sat in the pew behind them. As the opening music played, Hannah leaned over the pew, patting Timothy on the arm.
Becky pulled back and hissed. “We can’t sit over there. Hannah will talk about the wedding. It will be excruciating. She’ll tell me about every bite of food and what everyone wore. She’ll be sure to tell me what they said about me.”
I watched Hannah laugh at something Timothy said as if it were the funniest comment she’d ever heard. I took a step in that direction. What had Minerva said? I’d better make my feelings to Timothy known or someone else would snap him up. Hannah looked like she could snap really well—like an alligator.
Becky pulled my arm. “Chloe, please. I can’t bear to hear her go on and on about it.” Her large blue eyes were the size of ping-pong balls.
“Okay.” I followed Becky to the other side of the room. We sat next to an elderly man who was already asleep even though the sermon hadn’t begun.
Hannah tossed her dark hair over one shoulder and caught my eye. A catlike smile curled on her lips as she whispered to her two friends.
“It’s like watching church leaders huddle together before they shun someone,” Becky whispered.
I was thinking it was more like watching the three witches of Hamlet, but I suspected either of our cultural references would be appropriate.
Hannah tossed her hair again. If she weren’t careful, she’d hit the parishioner behind her in the eye. She, Kim, and Emily stood and moved to Timothy’s pew. Timothy shook his head and pointed to the seat next to him. Hannah pouted and shook her head. She scooted an inch closer to him. Timothy scooted away and bumped into Danny. Hannah pouted more and pointed at me. Timothy turned and we made eye contact. His eyes drooped, as if hurt. I opened my mouth, but he wouldn’t h
ear me unless I shouted across the sanctuary. Not a good idea.
Hannah turned Timothy’s head back to face her.
My stomach dropped. Maybe Minerva was right.
A few rows up from Timothy and Hannah, Beth Hilty, Hannah’s mother, turned all the way around in her pew to watch the exchange between her daughter and Timothy. A catlike smile, identical to her daughter’s, curled her mouth. As if she sensed my gaze, her head snapped in my direction, and her eyes narrowed.
“I don’t think she likes you,” Becky said under her breath.
The pastor began morning announcements, sparing me from a reply.
After church, Timothy and Becky had choir practice. They both signed up to sing in the Christmas cantata in a few weeks. I couldn’t hum a tune, so I walked home alone.
I kicked a pile of snow as I walked. Hannah was also in the choir, and no doubt she’d stay as close to Timothy as possible during practice.
As I climbed my porch steps, I heard a scraping sound. Startled, I dropped my house key on the porch. When I scooped it up, I found Abby standing in front of me. I gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.” She inched away from me to the far corner of the front porch.
I clutched the keys in my hand. “Okay.”
“Not now. I have to get back home. I was able to sneak away from services for a few minutes.”
I glanced up the street. No buggy. “How did you get here?”
“Don’t worry about that. I have to go. Will you meet me?”
“Why can’t you talk to me now?”
Her eyes skittered back and forth. “I can’t. I’ve been gone far too long already.”
I pursed my chapped lips. “Where and when would you like me to meet you?”
“Later today. Meet me at Appleseed Pond at one o’clock.” She retreated farther away to the side of the house.
I took a few steps after her. “Where is that?”
She held up her hand to stop me. “Not far. It’s a mile past Young’s on the same road. It’s in between my farm and the flea market. I’ll tell my parents I don’t feel well enough for afternoon church and meet you.” She disappeared around the side of the porch. I waited half a second and ran around to see where she had gone. I leaned over the porch railing and looked into the backyard, but I couldn’t see her. I blinked. Where did she go?
I reached into my pocket for my cell phone and called Timothy. Voice-mail. I called Becky next. That call went to voice-mail too. Practice wouldn’t be over until three. I sent them both text messages and hoped they would get them in time.
Chapter Forty
I wouldn’t call the place in front of Appleseed Pond a parking lot. More like a muddy field. The Bug bumped along the uneven, half-frozen ground. I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter with each thump. The little car wasn’t built for this type of terrain. As I climbed out of the car, there wasn’t a soul around.
A twig snapped to my left and Abby stepped out from behind a tree. “I’m glad you came.”
“Why couldn’t you talk to me back at my house?”
“No one can see us together,” she whispered. “It could be dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Why?”
She didn’t answer.
“Does this have something to do with the haircutting? With your uncle Ezekiel?”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I don’t know anything about Ezekiel,” she said in a rush. “I don’t.”
I opened my mouth again.
“Follow me. The pond is only a half mile in. It’s beautiful this time of year and frozen over. We are too close to the road here. Someone will see.”
I waved my hand. “Lead the way.”
We walked for several yards in silence. Only the crunching sounds of our boots on the ground and the twittering of birds that didn’t bother to fly south for the winter disturbed the quiet.
“I’m sorry we had to meet like this. Between the farm and stocking at The Apple Core, I have very little time to myself.”
“Are you still stocking for Christmas at the shop?”
“Yes. Leah expects better sales this year and ordered extra of everything. She, Debbie, and I will finish tomorrow morning before the shop opens. I’ll be happy when it’s done. I’m more comfortable on the farm.”
I cleared my throat. “Abby, why did you want to talk to me?”
“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” She stopped in the middle of the path. “Can you stop it?”
“Can you tell me something that will help me stop it?” I plucked a dead leaf from a tree.
She turned away from me, her face hidden by the edge of her bonnet. I wondered if Amish women really wore bonnets for modesty or as a way to conceal their feelings from the rest of the world. “Things went too far. This wasn’t what we wanted.”
“Things? What things? What do you mean ‘we’? You, Leah, and Debbie?
Before she answered, Appleseed Pond came into view at four times the size of Archer Pond on Harshberger’s campus, which was inappropriately named Archer Lake. About a quarter mile across, it appeared frozen solid. Instead of floating in its chilly water, Canadian geese waddled across its glassy surface, squawking at each other as they went. The dead stems of reeds and cattails circumnavigated the edge. Leafless willow tree branches dipped into the pond and froze into their prayerful positions.
A doe ate grass poking up through the snow on the other side of the pond. Her head popped up as we drew closer to the water. She turned and fled into the woods with her white tail upright in retreat, and I turned to Abby. “How did I not know this was here? It’s beautiful.”
For the first time since I’d met her, Abby gave me the smallest of smiles. “It’s one of the best kept secrets in the county. Most Englischers don’t know about it because it’s on Amish land, and they don’t pay attention to anything they can’t see from their cars. Courting couples in the district have skating parties here in the winter and picnics in the summer. At least they did before.”
“Before what?”
She raised the hood of her cloak over her bonnet. “Before we got a new bishop.”
“It seems like few in the community are happy with Bishop Hooley.” I dropped my leaf and it slid onto the frozen ground. A chickadee clung to one of the willow branches with his talons, choosing to hop up its length rather than fly.
“Why would they be happy with him? He’s a tyrant. Everything’s different now. I never before thought about leaving the Amish, but now I don’t know if I can stay.”
“Before you said it’s gone too far. What did you mean?”
“Th-the district. The bishop holds us back.” She walked around the edge of the pond.
I watched my footing. The pond was frozen, but on closer inspection, the ice wasn’t as thick as it appeared from farther away. “What went too far?”
She looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do this. Everything will be fine,” she said more to herself than to me. “I know it.” She stopped in front of another trailhead. “You should stop meddling in Amish matters. We will solve this in our own way and in our own gut time.”
I blinked. Her demeanor had completely changed. Gone was the frightened young girl. A new assertive person, one with resolve, had taken her place.
What wasn’t she telling me? She asked me to meet her at the pond as some sort of confession but couldn’t bring herself to actually do it.
“Abby, what did you want to tell me?” I said in a hushed voice.
Some of her strong façade cracked. “I can’t do this. I can’t tell you.”
“I’m only trying to help.”
She wrapped her arms about her
waist. “I can’t.”
“I thought you didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
She glared at me. “You cannot understand. You’re Englisch.”
“Did Leah tell you not to talk to me?”
“Leah is my friend.”
“I know that.”
“She protects us.”
“Who? You and Debbie? She didn’t protect you from getting your hair cut off.”
Abby blinked away tears. “I must go.” She pointed down the trail. “It’s faster for me to walk home this way. Follow the trail back the way we came and you will reach your car.”
Before she disappeared into the trees, I said, “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”
She didn’t reply. Instead she just kept walking.
I stood on the edge of the pond and watched the geese squawk at each other as they slipped across the ice. Maybe I would ask Timothy if he’d like to go ice skating here. Tanisha was right. I shouldn’t be afraid to ask him out on a date. If he were truly part of the English world now, he should know how it works. I doubted Hannah was as discreet.
I turned my thoughts from Timothy and Hannah and back to Abby. She and her two friends, Leah and Debbie, knew much more about the haircutting than they were telling Chief Rose or me. How would I convince one of the girls to talk? Abby seemed like the weakest link, yet just now, she had not cracked. I frowned. I should tell Chief Rose and let her try. I bet she was pretty good at getting a confession when she needed one.
A twig snapped. I turned expecting to see Abby returning on the trail or another deer rushing through the thicket. Instead I saw the two people I least wanted to come across while alone in the woods.
Chapter Forty-One
Mrs. Green always said that some people were like a bad penny—they kept turning up. As Brock and Curt smirked at me, I finally understood that expression.
Brock stood in the trailhead that Abby had walked down, and Curt blocked the one that led to my car. The only other option was to walk across the pond. The ice might be firm enough to hold the geese, but that didn’t mean it could hold me.
Appleseed Creek Trilogy, Books 1-3 Page 51