by Marta Perry
“Denke, Josiah. You’re a gut friend.” Her throat tightened. “Maybe if I understood why these bad things are happening, if would be easier, but this is like groping around in a fog.”
Josiah moved slightly, as if he wanted to stand and move toward her, but then he leaned back in the chair. “Ja, I know what you’re feeling. But we have learned more, ain’t so?”
“Ja.” She knew he was trying to make her feel better, and she tried to smile. “Maybe the fog is a little thinner today than it was yesterday. I have to keep reminding myself that God’s hand is at work, even when I’m afraid and I don’t understand.”
He did stand then, pushing his chair back and coming to lean against the counter next to her. He looked down at her, his face very serious. “You’ll be all right, Leah. I’m sure of it. I…”
He seemed to lose the thread of what he was saying. He just stood there, his gaze on hers, and he was so close that she could feel the warmth of his body. If she swayed toward him, she would be in his arms.
“Josiah! I didn’t know you were here.” Sarah’s voice sounded from the doorway, and then Sarah ran across the kitchen in her bare feet, her nightgown fluttering.
Josiah turned, smiling at Sarah, and the moment between them vanished. Was he relieved at that? She couldn’t tell.
“This can’t be little Sarah, can it?” he said. “How did you get so big?”
Sarah giggled. “I grew, of course. I’m eight now.”
“So you are.” He tugged at her braid. “And what are you doing in a nightgown at this time of day?”
“I have a cold, so Leah stayed home with me,” she said, sounding pleased at the attention.
“Ach, ja, and you shouldn’t be running around in your bare feet with a cold,” Leah scolded. “Go and get your slippers right now.”
Sarah made a face, but she turned toward the hall. “Don’t go away before I’m back,” she said to Josiah, and she raced away.
“Here come Mamm and Daad now,” Leah said quickly. She didn’t want Josiah to mention that moment of closeness between them. She certainly didn’t want him saying he was sorry.
“I’ll go and help carry the groceries in,” he said, and was gone in an instant, as if he was eager to escape from her.
There was a clamor of voices outside, and the kitchen quickly seemed crammed full as Mamm and Daad came in, followed by Josiah and the three boys, all with their arms full of groceries, all talking at once.
Leah felt her spirits lift. The family was just like it had always been, especially when Sarah hurried back in, chattering a mile a minute and wanting to look into every box and bag. Even Daad seemed to relax, smiling at something Sarah said.
Mamm came to the counter and began unpacking the bag Josiah had set there. She glanced at the flour Leah had measured into the mixing bowl. “If that’s for pies, you’ll need some more sugar. I’ll dump the bag I bought into the canister.”
“I can do it, Mamm,” Leah said, but her mother was already lifting the sugar canister down from the shelf and yanking the lid off.
“There should be enough apples—” Mamm stopped in midsentence, staring into the canister, face paling.
“Mamm? Was ist letz?” The others hushed at the tone of her voice.
Mamm carried the canister to the table. She tipped it on its side, and they all stared at what fell out—a packet of money.
Daad reached toward it, separating the bills with the tip of his finger as if he didn’t want to touch them. Five of them—five hundred-dollar bills.
The silence was so complete that Leah felt as if she could hear her own heart beating. Certainly she could feel the blood drain from her face.
“Daughter? What is this?” Daad said the words slowly. Distinctly. “Does this have something to do with that woman’s ring?”
Leah’s breath caught in her throat. A valuable ring was missing, and here was money that couldn’t be accounted for—unless she had sold the ring.
“I don’t know, Daad. I don’t know where that money came from.”
But even as she said the words, she knew how hollow they sounded. Even those who loved her could hardly disbelieve the evidence in front of their eyes.
She looked from her father’s face to Josiah. Surely Josiah would believe her.
But his eyes didn’t meet hers. At a gesture from her father, Josiah turned and walked out of the house.
Chapter Seven
By the time the supper dishes were done, Leah was so drained she didn’t think she could bear another moment with her parents. She’d talked herself hoarse trying to explain, but still, the doubt seemed to linger in their eyes.
Daad always came back to the same thing—where had the money come from? The only answer she could think of seemed incredible.
Mr. Grayson had already been in the kitchen when she came down. He could have put it there. But why should he? If he and Mrs. Grayson were really in need of money, he certainly wouldn’t give it away. And if he had taken the ring himself, intending to claim the insurance money, it seemed even more unlikely.
Then there was the obvious solution…that Leah had taken the ring and sold it. But she wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to do such a thing. Mamm had nodded when she’d said that, and Leah had felt a wave of relief. Mamm had shown her a small glimmer of belief.
But the police wouldn’t understand or believe. She shivered. The police would surely think the money proved her guilt, and Geneva had intended to talk to Chief Byler this afternoon. He could show up at the door at any moment, and then what would she do?
Chief Byler wouldn’t believe her. Clearly Josiah hadn’t, when he’d walked out. She tried to keep the pain from cramping her heart. She couldn’t.
She set the last dish in the cabinet and closed the door. “I’ll put Sarah to bed, Mamm, if you want.”
“Denke, Leah. That would be gut.” Mamm’s eyes were shadowed with strain. “That will give me a chance to talk with your daadi.”
Leah hugged her, feeling Mamm’s arms close around her as if she were a small child again. Her throat tightened, and she struggled to smile. “Denke,” she whispered.
Hurrying upstairs, Leah opened the door to the room she and Sarah shared. Sarah was in her nightgown, sitting on the edge of her bed and swinging her feet. She looked up as Leah shut the door, a question in her face.
“Are Mammi and Daadi still mad?” Her little face seemed to pinch at the question.
“Mammi and Daadi aren’t mad.” She tried to sound confident but probably didn’t succeed very well. “They’re just worried.”
Even with the door closed, she could hear the murmur of their voices, the singsong tones of Pennsylvania Dutch, as they talked in the living room. About her—she had no doubt, even though she couldn’t distinguish the words they said.
She picked up the hairbrush from the dresser and went to sit next to her little sister on the bed. “Komm, I’ll brush your hair and braid it for the night. How do you feel?” She pressed the back of her hand against Sarah’s forehead, but Sarah’s skin wasn’t hot.
“I’m all right.” Sarah sniffed a little. “My nose is stuffy, that’s all.”
“Gut. You’ll probably be able to go outside tomorrow then.”
“Why are Mammi and Daadi worried about you?” Sarah was nothing if not persistent. “Are you sick, too?” She put her small hand against Leah’s face, mimicking her action.
“No, I’m fine.” Leah caught Sarah’s fingers and gave them a squeeze. “Turn around, and I’ll get the tangles out of your hair.”
Sarah obeyed. Leah began to brush, enjoying the routine movements and the flow of her sister’s silky hair through her fingers. Sarah was silent for a few minutes, and Leah began to hope she’d dropped the subject.
“You still didn’t say why Mammi and Daadi are worried,” Sarah prompted.
She should have known Sarah wouldn’t give up that easily. She’d have to tell her little sister something before she heard a garbled version of
the story from someone else.
Leah parted the hair and began to braid. “You know that Mammi found some money in the sugar bin,” she said. “Well, they don’t know how it got there, so they’re worried about it.”
“Maybe it was the robbers.” Sarah’s voice shivered a little.
“Robbers take money. They don’t leave it.” Leah paused. “They’re gone, and they’ll never come back. You don’t need to think about the robbers anymore.”
“I guess,” Sarah said. “But maybe they like to hide things. Like I hide things in my treasure box.”
“You don’t have money in your treasure box,” Leah said absently, her mind back on the treadmill again. Who had put the money there? And why?
“I have a lollipop, and a hair tie I found, and a toy ring that Abe gave me,” Sarah recited. “And the calendar you gave me.”
The word caught in her mind. “The calendar?” she repeated.
“Ja, the little one with the pretty pictures of mountains and oceans. You remember.”
She did remember, of course. Two weeks ago, it had been, and she hadn’t thought of it since. She’d been working at the Graysons, and Mrs. Grayson had been unhappy that her husband hadn’t tidied up his desk for her to clean.
So Mrs. Grayson had done it herself, sweeping some things into a drawer and others into the trash can Leah was about to empty.
“There, you can go ahead and dump that,” she’d said.
Leah had seen the calendar drop in, and she pulled it out. “Won’t your husband want his calendar?”
Mrs. Grayson gestured dismissively. “It’s last year’s. I don’t know why it’s still cluttering up the place.”
Leah held the calendar for a moment, looking at the pictures. Photos, they were, of various national parks.
Mrs. Grayson saw that it attracted her. “You can have that, if you want it.”
She’d been startled. Some people offered her things from time to time, but never Mrs. Grayson. Still, she’d known Sarah would like the calendar, so she’d accepted.
And Sarah had, of course, put it in her treasure box so her brothers wouldn’t see it.
Leah took a long, slow breath and blew it out. Was she so desperate that she was making something of nothing? Maybe so.
But Mr. Grayson’s manner had been so odd when he’d come to the house. He’d talked about the return of anything that had gone missing from his house.
What value could an out-of-date calendar have? None, her practical mind assured her. Still, it was odd. She ought to look at the calendar, at least.
She tucked the quilt over Sarah. “Would you mind if I looked at that calendar again?”
Sarah shook her head, stifling a yawn. “It’s in my box. In the barn, between the bales of straw.”
“Denke, Sarah.” Leah bent and kissed her cheek. “Sleep tight.”
She straightened, trying not to read too much into this, but she couldn’t help feeling a flicker of excitement. At least finding the calendar was something she could do for herself.
Leah went downstairs, aware that her parents’ voices ceased at the sound of her footsteps. They were still talking about her, then.
“Sarah is settled.” She paused for a moment in the living room doorway. “I’ll take care of feeding the horses, Daad.”
“Tell the boys it’s time to come in, ja?” her mother said.
She nodded and went on through the kitchen to the back door. When she stepped outside, her brothers stopped tossing a baseball around to stare at her. Her heart sank. So even the little ones were affected by the suspicion around her.
“Mamm says to come in now,” she called.
The boys headed for the back door, and she started across the lawn to the barn.
It felt good to be outside. She hadn’t realized, until she was out in the air, how the very atmosphere in the house was strained. A light breeze lifted a strand of hair loose from her kapp and fluttered her apron as she walked, and the setting sun seemed to turn the leaves of the willow tree golden, as if fall had arrived for sure.
The barn door stood open, so that a shaft of sunlight lay on the floor. But the corners were gloomy already, and the horses whickered expectantly, sure she’d come to feed them.
“Ja, ja, I will take care of you in a moment,” she told them.
She scanned the bales of bedding straw. Most of the straw was stored up in the loft, so that left relatively few to check.
Leah started at the far end, lifting the bales to check under and around each one. The box had to be here somewhere. She should have asked Sarah for more directions, but she couldn’t go back and disturb her. Her little sister would be asleep by this time.
She shoved another bale over onto the end stack, and there it was. Sarah’s treasure box turned out to be a battered plastic pencil box, probably one the teacher had given her in first grade. Its lid curved in from the weight of the straw.
Leah picked it up, feeling her breath quicken as if she’d been running. She couldn’t imagine what an out-of-date calendar had to do with all this trouble, but if there was the slightest chance the calendar was important, she had to know.
She flipped open the box. The calendar, a spiral-bound weekly book, lay on top. She took it out, holding it in her hand, hardly daring to breathe.
“I knew you had it.”
The voice had her spinning toward the sound. Phillip Grayson stood framed in the doorway.
Chapter Eight
Grayson walked toward her. Leah took an instinctive step back, her heart pounding.
He stopped, holding out his hands, palms up. “Leah, it’s all right. I don’t mean you any harm. I just want my property back.”
“This?” She held up the calendar, mind tumbling in an effort to make sense of the situation. “But what about your wife’s ring?”
Grayson shrugged. “If the ring doesn’t turn up, it’s insured. But I have some valuable notes written in that calendar, and I’d like it back. Just give it to me, and I’ll make sure you’re not troubled again. The police will never hear a thing from my wife about that stupid ring.”
He sounded very reasonable, but all her instincts were shouting at her that she couldn’t believe him.
“It’s too late for that,” she said, clutching at the thought. “Mrs. Morgan went to talk with Chief Byler about the situation this afternoon.”
For an instant Grayson’s polite mask cracked, and she saw what lay beneath. Fear. The man was afraid.
That should make her feel better, but it didn’t. Daadi always said that when an animal was afraid, it was most likely to attack.
“The Morgan family should learn to stay out of things that aren’t any of their business.” He bared his teeth in what was probably meant to be a smile. “Still, that doesn’t necessarily change anything. Just give me the calendar, and I’ll make sure the ring is found. You’ll be in the clear.”
She could only stare at him, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “You put that money in the sugar bin.”
“You can never prove that,” he said. “Everyone will see the money as evidence that you took the ring and sold it. Or that your father was in the habit of hiding money, and that’s why the house was robbed. Nothing points to me. Now I’ll take the calendar.” He held out his hand in silent demand.
She didn’t respond. Couldn’t.
With a quick, impatient gesture he closed in on her, still holding out his hand. Fear swept through her. If she gave it to him, she might never be clear of this suspicion. If she didn’t—
Grayson grabbed for the calendar, twisting her wrist as he wrenched it away from her. He spun toward the doorway and stopped dead. Three people stood there, staring at him.
Josiah broke away from Geneva and Chief Byler, rushing to her. He grasped her arms with both hands.
“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” His words were soft, urgent, spoken in the dialect just to her.
“I am all right.” She touched her wrist, and Josiah took
it gently in his big hands, holding it tenderly. She went suddenly weak in the knees.
“He has hurt her,” he said in English.
“And in front of a police officer, too.” Chief Byler shook his head, plucked the calendar from Grayson. “I’ll just take this until we’ve established ownership.”
“It’s mine.” Grayson made a visible effort to compose himself. “You can’t imagine I’d hurt the girl. I just wanted my property.”
Chief Byler’s face was impassive. “Suppose you come into town with me, and we’ll have a talk about the calendar. And about the ring that your wife reported missing.”
“I told her—“ Grayson clamped his lips closed. “That was a mistake. My wife lost the ring, but I’ve found it. There won’t be any claim on the insurance.” He seemed to be gaining assurance as he spoke. “The calendar is mine. I’m sure my wife will verify that. Just give it to me, and this unfortunate incident will be over.”
“I’m afraid it’s not quite that simple,” Byler said. “Mrs. Morgan has been telling me about the events of the past few days. There’s still a break-in that’s unaccounted for, as well as an accusation of theft against Leah Miller. Let’s just go have that talk, and you can explain it all to me.”
He nudged Grayson toward the door, and in a moment they were gone.
“Phillip Grayson wasn’t really very good at wrongdoing,” Chief Byler said, wrapping his hands around the mug of coffee Leah’s mother had given him.
Darkness pressed against the windows, but the group around the kitchen table sat under the glow of the gaslight. Josiah glanced from face to face, judging their reactions to this odd occasion.
The chief had left his weapon in the car, but Leah’s father still looked uneasy at having an officer in uniform at his kitchen table. Geneva Morgan was pink with excitement, while Chief Byler wore the satisfied look of a man whose work had gone well.
As for Leah…he had trouble looking at Leah with an unbiased eye. She had grown so dear to him in such a short time.