The temperature hovered in the single digits. “It’s too cold for you to walk home tonight. Let me give you a ride.”
She bit her lip. “I can walk home.”
“Don’t be silly. I can drop you off on the way to my meeting.”
“All right. I will just tell Blake about dinner, and we can go.” Junie disappeared into the barn.
I marched in place to fight back the cold. I was just thinking about going into the barn to look for her when Junie reappeared. “Did you find Blake?” I asked.
“Ya,” she said, but a strange pinched expression washed over her face. The expression came and went so quickly that I didn’t know if I imagined it or saw it at all. The only light on the snow-covered walkway between the hotel and barn came from the windows of both buildings.
I shook off the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine. “Let’s go.”
Snow began to fall, and she opened the car door. “Danki.” She gave me directions to her home.
“Work must have been tough today without Eve around.”
Junie stared out the window at the snow-and-rain mix pelting the glass.
I bit the inside of my cheek, deciding whether I should press Junie about her sister’s death. One question still bothered me: Why did Junie tell Eve about the play? It seemed even stranger, now that I knew that the sisters barely spoke to each other in the two weeks Eve lived in the hotel where Junie worked.
It was a large hotel by Rolling Brook standards, with more than sixty rooms, but it wasn’t so big that the sisters wouldn’t see each other, especially since Junie seemed to be a jane-of-all-trades in the building, doing everything from waiting tables in the breakfast room, to being a maid, to being a fill-in receptionist. But maybe I was pushing the girl too far when I asked her for information. Junie couldn’t be more than nineteen.
“I’m sorry if I keep bringing up Eve.”
She continued to stare out the window. “I know you’re trying to help.” She took a shuddered breath. “But I still think it is best if you leave this alone. Gott will claim his justice. Of this I am sure.”
I turned off the main road onto a long country lane. The car bumped on the deep cuts made by buggy wheels in the snow. The back roads were always the last to get plowed. Living in Ohio during the winter has never made me so grateful for my little SUV. I never knew what it was capable of in Dallas.
Junie pointed to a black mailbox ahead, sitting under the soft glow of a lantern. “That’s my home. You can stop at the end of the driveway to let me out. Mamm always leaves a lantern burning for me at the end of the driveway when the weather is poor. She says that it’s to guide me on my way, but I know she watches it. I will blow it out to let her know that I have made it home.”
The car rolled to a stop at the end of the drive. I looked up the very long driveway. The house seemed so far away. “Jump out and blow it out, and I will drive you up to the door.”
“I can walk from here.” She opened her car door. Rain and snow blew into the car’s interior.
“Don’t be silly. Your driveway is a sheet of ice. I can’t let you break your ankle. Plus it is sleeting. You will be frozen by the time you cross the threshold.”
“All right.” She hopped out of the car, blew out the lantern, and brought it back into the car with her. “Mamm will know I am home now.”
My car bumped the rest of the way up the uneven driveway. Junie’s family must have been in and out of the house often through the winter. The buggy wheel ruts were much deeper here than they had been on the road. “I’m sure your parents will be happy you made it home safe and sound. And your brothers and sisters too.”
“Eve was my only sister.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you had other siblings.”
“Because I am Amish, you thought I came from a large family, but my family is very small.” She paused.
I watched the house grow bigger in my windshield as the wiper blades moved back and forth on the glass. The farmhouse’s front door opened, and a petite Amish woman with a thick wool cape wrapped around her body stood in the doorway, holding a lantern identical to the one in Junie’s lap.
I shifted the car into park.
“Thank you for the ride,” Junie called as she hopped out of the car before I could reply.
In the light of the lantern, the woman, who I could only assume was Junie’s mother, stopped her daughter from dashing into the house by touching her arm. The pair spoke for a moment before Junie went into the house. Instead of following her daughter inside, Junie’s mother held the lantern high as she approached my car.
I powered down the passenger side window.
“Guten Nacht,” she said as she peered into my car. I was shocked by how much Esther looked like Eve. I could almost see the girl in her mother’s face. There was no resemblance between her and Junie. I wondered if the younger Shetler sister took after her father. “I am Junie’s mother. Please call me Esther. Danki for bringing Junie home on such a terrible night. Please come in for a cup of kaffe.”
I hesitated. If I accepted her offer, I would certainly be late for the trustees’ meeting, and I was already on thin ice with Head Trustee Caroline Cramer for tardiness in the past. Then again, this might be my only opportunity to speak with Eve’s mother.
I unbuckled my seat belt. “I would love a cup of coffee, especially on such a frigid night like this.”
“Gut. You can leave your car right here. We don’t expect any visitors tonight.” She turned and headed back to the house, fully expecting me to follow, which I did.
My ugly boots crunched in the snow as we crossed the yard.
Instead of going in through the front door where I saw her waiting with the lantern in vigil for her younger and only remaining daughter, she led me to a side door.
Chapter Twenty-four
By the way the snow was packed down in this part of the yard, I could tell that the side door was the commonly used entrance. The door opened directly into the kitchen. A round kitchen table sat in one corner of the large room. On the table a chain of popcorn and cranberries was under construction, and two bowls of each sat on the table.
“I used to love making those with my aunt when I was a child,” I said.
Junie’s mother removed her cloak and hung it on the peg by the kitchen door. I did the same with my ski coat.
“I haven’t made any in years, but I was at the mercantile this morning and saw the cranberries,” she said. “I could not resist. Evie—”
“Mamm.” Junie touched her mother’s arm.
“Nee, I am fine, Junie. Why don’t you check on the cornbread in the oven? It should be just about done. We are having a simple and late supper tonight. Your daed went to the tree farm not long ago to lend a hand to your uncle.”
Junie dropped her hand. “Ya, Mamm.”
Esther fell into her seat. “I was inspired to make it because it was Evie’s favorite Christmas decoration. She always liked decorations since she was a very small child. I should have known then that she wouldn’t remain Amish.”
I removed my gloves and stuck them into the large pockets of my coat. “Do you make them to hang inside your house?”
Esther sat at the kitchen table and gestured for me to do the same. “Sometimes, but more often we make dozens of them and hang them on the pine trees in the yard to feed the birds. It can be hard for them to find food during the winter, and it is especially hard during a winter this harsh.” She picked up a plump cranberry and rolled it back and forth in the palm of her hand. “I thought it would be a good remembrance for Evie this Christmas to do it again. I don’t tell my husband this is why. He would not understand.” She dropped the cranberry into the bowl and threaded a needle. “My husband didn’t understand anything when it came to Evie.”
Junie silently moved around the kitchen during our conversatio
n. She was so quiet that I forgot she was there until she set a steaming mug of coffee in a plain white cup in front of me on the table.
Esther slid a pincushion, thread, and bowl of popcorn across the table to me. “Since your aunt gave you Running Stitch, I assume that you are good with a needle. You can start a new string.”
“I’m not bad,” I said as I removed a needle from the cushion and snipped off a long piece of thread.
She laughed and stuck her needle through a cranberry. “I knew your aenti very well. She was a gut woman, a pillar of the community. She came to see me after Eve left. She assured me that Eve must choose her own path that Gott wanted for her.”
I could see Aunt Eleanor doing that. Even in the darkest pit of her cancer, she encouraged and comforted others.
Esther bent over her popcorn and cranberry chain and shook her head. A large tear landed on one of the cranberries like a drop of rain. “I don’t know how being an actress was part of Gotte’s plan for my elder daughter. It went against everything we were or wanted for her.”
I placed a handful of popcorn and another handful of cranberries in front of me on the tabletop, not knowing what to say to comfort her.
When I was silent, she continued. “Everyone in the district loved Eve before she left. That was why it was so heartbreaking when she made her decision to go. I think of the life she could have had. She could have done so well here. She had the pick of the young men. She would have had children and been happy and alive.”
I stabbed a piece of popcorn with my needle. “But she wanted a different kind of life.”
She strung three pieces of popcorn in silence. “One I couldn’t give her.”
“Junie said that you would still be handling the funeral. I’m glad for that.”
“It will be at the gravesite as soon as the sheriff . . .” She took a breath. “As soon as the sheriff releases her body to us. Since Evie was no longer Amish, our bishop and elders won’t preside over the burial. A minister from the Mennonite meetinghouse offered to come and give prayers for the quiet service. Only Junie and I will be there.”
“Your husband?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nee. Noah won’t attend. It would be too difficult for him. You have to excuse my husband. He is as distraught as I am over Eve’s passing.” She dabbed at the corner of her eye with a dish towel. “But to him she was lost years ago when she went to New York. I held on to the hope that she would come back. My mamm said the secret of the home is women were always tougher than their husbands. I believe that now.”
“May I come?” I asked. “I would like to come. I didn’t know Eve long, but she made an impression on me during that time.” I paused. “And I think her friend Amber would like to come too.”
She nodded. “I will have Junie tell you when it is time. I guess you will know how to tell Amber, as we . . .”
“I do.” I stabbed two cranberries with my needle and squirted myself in the eye with cranberry juice.
Esther handed me her handkerchief with a sad smile, but she did not comment on the cranberry juice.
I wiped at my eye and chuckled. “I’m used to working with fabric. There’s no juice in fabric.”
She offered me the tiniest of smiles. “Nee, I suppose there is not.”
I folded the handkerchief and placed it on the table. “Were you happy when you heard of Eve’s return to Holmes County?”
She nodded. “I was so happy to see her, but I knew it would be difficult too.” She sighed. “Part of me hoped that when she got back, we could start again. Maybe she would remember what she gave up for her Englisch life and want to return to our way. If she did, all would be forgiven. She would be welcomed back into the community like a long-lost daughter. That is why Junie mentioned that play was coming to the hotel. I told Junie to write to her sister and ask her to join the play.”
I glanced at Junie, who was focused on the task of drying and putting away the dishes. “Why didn’t you write her yourself?” I asked.
“I couldn’t do that. Eve left the community. My husband was very angry when she left and forbid me to contact her. He never told Junie directly that she couldn’t speak to her sister, which is why I asked Junie to write the letter about the play to Eve. I know it was wrong that we disobeyed the spirit of my husband’s order, but I so desperately wanted to see my elder daughter again. It was the only way. I would never travel into her world in New York City.” She held the dish towel to her chest. “When she wrote us two months ago to tell us that she got the part, I was so happy. Now I wish I never asked Junie to write. At least then I would know she was alive and had a chance to return to our ways one day.” She dabbed at her eyes with the towel. “I am sorry.”
Without a word, Junie refilled the white coffee mug in front of her mother. The girl wore a pained expression. I had to look away. The grief, both mother’s and daughter’s, was too stark.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” My voice caught. “Anyone who met her knew Eve was special.”
“She was,” Esther said. “She was.”
I wrapped my hands around the plain white mug. “So you didn’t see Eve when she returned to the county?”
“I did once. I went to the hotel to see her. She didn’t know I was there. I peeked into the barn when she practiced her songs for the play. Had my husband known, he would have been so angry with me, but I had to see her. My only regret is that I didn’t speak to her, didn’t get the chance to tell her I loved her. But I could not; it is not our way.”
What I was going to ask next would be uncomfortable, but I pressed on. “But she had to know many Amish weren’t happy she returned to Holmes County. Nahum Shetler made his disapproval of Eve’s return known.”
“Nahum is my husband’s brother.” Esther pinched a piece of popcorn so hard in her hand that it crumpled into a dozen tiny pieces on the table. “I do not care for him. He’s wild and can’t be trusted.”
I selected another piece of popcorn. “Do you think he would hurt Eve? Did he have any reason to?”
“Does anyone have any reason to hurt another person? As Amish, we are nonviolent, and we would say no.”
True, the Amish were nonviolent in their teaching, but if my life in Holmes County had taught me anything, it was that some of them fall short in the practice.
“Whatever he might call himself, I don’t consider Nahum to be in my Amish family any longer,” she added. “But I don’t believe my brother-in-law is capable of hurting Eve. I know it was one of those theater people.”
I was beginning to agree with her, especially after overhearing that conversation between Jasper and Wade. I hoped that the sheriff had been able to check into Wade’s background by now.
Water sloshed out of the pot that Junie carried onto the floor. Junie cried out as some hot water splashed her ankles.
Mrs. Shetler snapped at her daughter in Pennsylvania Dutch.
I jumped out of my seat. “Are you burnt?”
Junie replaced the kettle to the stove with shaky hands. “Nee, the water wasn’t that hot. I was startled, that was all.”
I grabbed a dish towel from the handle on the oven door and wiped at the floor.
Junie squatted next to me. “You should go,” she whispered. “Mamm is upset.”
I stood and handed her the towel. Junie was right. “Thank you for the coffee.”
Esther smiled. “Thank you for coming. It was kind of you to stop and chat. It’s not often I am able to speak so freely about Evie. I’m afraid others in my community like to pretend that she never was. But she was, and she was my daughter.”
As I left the house, I bit my lip to hold back tears for a life wasted and the grieving mother left behind.
Chapter Twenty-five
The township trustees’ meeting at Willow Moon’s tea shop, the Dutchman’s Tea Shop, had been scheduled to begin at eight.
I ran into the shop in a cloud of wind and snow twenty minutes late.
When I burst through the door, Wanda’s customers stared at me. I gave them my best winning smile.
One of Willow’s waitresses, a teenaged Amish girl, swerved around me with a steaming teapot in one hand and a tray of teacups in the other. She was light on her feet and avoided the collision.
Willow waved at me from a corner table. The other members of the board were already there. Tablets, both electronic and traditional paper, covered the table’s service amidst teapots, cups, and small plates of cucumber sandwiches. The sight of the cucumber sandwiches made my stomach rumble.
Farley Jung, former head trustee, pulled out the empty chair next to him and patted the seat. Why did I think he had kept that seat empty on purpose?
I grimaced but sat. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
“What held you up?” Willow asked. She was the only one who smiled at me.
I cleared my throat. “I had stopped at the hotel to check on play practice. I thought you all would appreciate a report on that, and I gave Junie, one of the maids, a last-minute ride home.”
Willow clapped her hands. “That was so good of you, Angie. This weather is far too harsh for a young girl to be walking in it.”
I ducked my head. “Thank you, Willow.” I sat in one of the white mismatched dining chairs around the circular table.
Willow picked up the teapot in the middle of the table and poured tea into my cup. I peered into the teacup. “What’s this?” The mixture smelled suspect, and I had been burned, literally, so many times before by Wanda’s strange tea recipes that I was wary of them.
“Peppermint tea,” Willow said.
It smelled like more than peppermint to me.
Jason widened his eyes in warning over his cucumber sandwich.
Willow beamed. “I’m so glad that you are all here. You can taste my new tea.”
A collective “No” went up from the other trustees. I think it was the one and only time that we were all in agreement.
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