The salesman’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you all four pieces for one thirty.”
Grandfather Zook tugged on his beard. “Ninety.”
“No way,” the man said.
Grandfather Zook waved me over. “Come on, Chloe, we will go somewhere else.”
Reluctantly, I stood.
“Fine,” the man grumbled. “One hundred dollars.”
Grandfather Zook grinned. “Sold!”
The man reached into his pocket for his receipt tablet, his mouth twisted as if annoyed.
I couldn’t wait to tell Tanisha about my finds. She was the real bargain hunter between us. If she and Grandfather Zook ever joined forces, they would be dangerous.
Becky approached us carrying a paper cup of water, and Grandfather Zook took notice of her. “I’ll let you finish up here, and go wait with Becky.” He pointed at a blue velvet sofa two booths away. “I’ll be waiting over there.”
Timothy and I agreed.
Timothy smiled after his grandfather, then moved his gaze to me. “I’ve never seen anyone so excited about furniture before.”
I blushed. “Are you sure everything will fit in your truck?”
“No problem. I’ve hauled twice that before.”
Ten minutes later, Timothy and I found Grandfather Zook on the velvet sofa. Becky was no where to be seen. However, Grandfather Zook was not alone. Deacon Sutter stood in front of him with his arms crossed in front of his chest. The deacon stood up straight, as if a yard stick ran the length of his spine. His black plain jacket was spotless and without wrinkles, and his hat sat atop the center of his head.
The deacon glared at us. “Joseph, you have all your grandchildren with you today. I’m surprised by this.”
“Ya, even my grandkinner.” Grandfather Zook winked at me. “Here are two of them now.”
I smiled back. Grandfather Zook considered me one of his grandchildren.
The deacon nodded at Timothy, then turned his dark stare to me. “You were at the accident. Who are you?”
I bit my tongue to hold back a smart remark. “I’m Chloe Humphrey.”
“Humphrey is not an Amish name.”
“I’m not Amish.” As if I could be mistaken for Amish considering I wore jeans, a T-shirt, and sandals.
Deacon Sutter scowled at Grandfather Zook. “I thought you said she was one of your grandkinner. From Pennsylvania? Maybe a Beachy? They are loose like you are.”
My brow wrinkled. What’s a Beachy?
“My grandfather was making a joke,” Timothy said.
The deacon’s jaw twitched, and his eyes narrowed further as he scrutinized me. “You’re the owner of the car.”
“I am.”
He turned his back to me. “Joseph, Preacher Hooley and I visited your son-in-law and daughter this morning.”
Grandfather Zook struggled to his feet. Timothy helped his grandfather up. “Why?”
“For the sake of the rest of the family, it would be best if you distanced yourself from Rebecca and the Englischer. It is not good for the younger children to be around them.”
Grandfather Zook didn’t answer right away. Instead he took his time slipping his crutches onto his thin arms with Timothy by his side. “What did my daughter and son-in-law say?”
“They will follow the advice of the church.” He smirked. “They always do.”
“You may be able to intimidate my son-in-law, but you can’t do that to me.” He stamped a crutch on the cement ground.
“You shouldn’t be talking to my grandfather alone, Deacon,” Timothy said. “You don’t have a witness to this conversation.” With Grandfather Zook’s weight supported on the crutches, Timothy let go of his grandfather’s arm.
“You’re not Amish anymore, Timothy. I don’t see why you have a right to comment on our ways. You made your choice. In your case it was the right decision for the district.”
Timothy recoiled as if the deacon had just slapped him across the mouth. “At least I can choose what rules to follow.”
Deacon Sutter bared his teeth. “You may have decided to leave our district, but the rest of your family has not. You should think of how your behavior and your sister Rebecca’s will affect them.”
I stepped around the deacon and stood on the other side of Grandfather Zook. Deacon Sutter’s stormy expression sent a shiver down my spine. He glared back at me before stomping away.
“Grossdaddi,” Timothy began. “You shouldn’t speak to the deacon that way.”
Grandfather Zook snorted. “And what were you doing?”
Timothy frowned. “The deacon is right. It is different for me.” He didn’t sound happy about that.
“Deacon Sutter has no use for our family. Timothy, you know that better than anyone.”
I watched Timothy’s face, his mouth twisted in sadness.
“Why does the deacon feel that way?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
I was beginning to realize the Amish world was much more complicated and less tranquil than I ever thought. If the deacon disliked the Troyers, would he cut the brake line of my car to hurt Becky, their daughter? Maybe Curt and Brock aren’t my only enemies in Knox County.
Grandfather Zook shook his head. “Let’s not talk about that man.”
“Where’s Becky?” I asked.
“When the deacon showed up, I told her to go find her brother and sisters. They are going to meet us at the restaurant for a piece of pie. We’d better get going. You don’t want Ellie to come after me, do you?”
Timothy and I followed Grandfather Zook through the maze of furniture. Before we reached the first pavilion, Becky walked up to us. Ruth hugged her around the waist, her thin shoulders bobbing up and down. Thomas held Naomi close. All four children looked stricken.
Grandfather Zook increased his pace. “What happened? Is someone hurt?”
Ruth mumbled something into her sister’s dress.
Becky tucked a stray blonde hair under her sister’s bonnet. “Anna’s father won’t let her see Ruth.” Tears pooled in her blue eyes. “It’s because of me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Grandfather Zook ushered the family into Young’s Family Kitchen, insisting a piece of pie would make everyone feel better. I had my doubts. Ruth couldn’t stop crying. I imagined how I would feel if Tanisha’s parents forbade her to see me.
We entered the restaurant at the height of the lunch rush. Senior citizens in wheelchairs and walkers complained as they waited for tables, and families with young children perused the gift shop and bakery to distract their toddlers until it was time to sit down and eat.
Ellie spotted us as soon as we stepped through the door. She sidestepped her hostess, a young Amish woman, and grabbed a handful of menus. “I was afraid you left without pie.” She tsked. “I have your table right over here.” She made a beeline for an open table by a large picture window overlooking a cornfield east of Young’s property. A red barn sat just beyond the field, making the scene look like an oil painting.
As soon as we sat down, Ellie removed a notepad and pen from her white apron pocket. “What would you all like?”
Without opening the menu, the Troyer family ordered. They came to Young’s often and knew the offerings.
Ruth had downcast eyes. “I’m not hungry.”
Ellie shook her pen at Ruth. “You need chocolate pie. I can always tell when a girl needs a big piece of my chocolate silk pie.”
The corners of Ruth’s mouth turned up ever so slightly, and she gave her choice.
Ellie scribbled down the order. “What kind of pie would you like, Chloe?”
I flipped through the tabletop menu. Each page had a photograph of a delicious-looking piece of pie. “It’s too hard to decide.”
; “The mixed berry is good,” Ruth said.
“With ice cream,” Thomas replied.
Ruth nodded in agreement. “With ice cream.”
I decided my diet started tomorrow. “I’ll have the mixed berries with ice cream then.” The smile my choice brought to Ruth’s face was worth the calories.
After Ellie left the table, I excused myself in search of the restroom. As I moved through the gift shop, a little boy in a Cleveland Indians T-shirt tried to convince his mother to buy him a stuffed tiger. A small waiting area with rocking chairs outside the restroom was empty. When I exited the restroom, two Amish women sat in those white rocking chairs, flour on their aprons and their feet swollen from working in the restaurant’s bakery. They didn’t appear to notice me.
I was about to slip by them when the older of the two women spoke. “Deacon Sutter finally has his chance to be a preacher.”
“And maybe bishop too,” the younger added.
“No, that won’t happen.”
I took a step back into the alcove.
The younger one frowned. “It could.”
The older one leaned her head to one side. “Ya, maybe now that the bishop is gone. Bishop Glick would have never allowed it.”
Did the deacon cut the brake line on my car to get the bishop out of the way? I pushed the wayward thought from my head, yet I knew I would feel safer if Becky or I weren’t the intended targets for the sabotage.
“The bishop will be missed. We need him now more than ever.” The younger of the pair sighed. “Did you hear about Deacon Sutter’s soybean field?”
“No. What happened?”
“Englischer drove through it and destroyed almost every plant. I heard it from his son. He was there at the time. Of course, he couldn’t do anything considering . . .”
The older woman shook her head. “The deacon wouldn’t let his son do anything if he’d been able to.”
In the restroom doorway, I shivered. The attacks on the Amish farms had to be related to Becky’s accident, didn’t they? Why was Chief Rose so reluctant to consider that? And why would they cut the brake line on my car? I took a deep breath and considered that maybe I was forcing the connection between the two incidents. Yet the prospect that they weren’t connected was too terrifying to consider, because that would mean that two different people were causing trouble in Knox County. Who knew Cleveland would be the safer place to live?
“You’re right, but people are scared. I heard the Fishers may move. They have family in the district in Colorado.”
“Colorado.” The older one snorted, then rubbed her knee and sighed. “It’s a shame about the Troyer girl.”
“She is a pretty one, but too flighty. No one was surprised when she decided she’d rather live with the Englisch. My daughter said she draws portraits.” She spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “The deacon spoke to her father about it several times.”
The older woman murmured something I couldn’t make out.
I knew I should make my exit, but found no way to do so gracefully. So I continued to hover in the ladies’ room doorway.
The younger one continued, apparently rested. “Her older brother was a surprise though.”
“He was.” The older woman nodded. “He broke hearts when he left.”
“But the deacon was happy.”
“Of course he was—after what happened.”
“We shouldn’t speak of that. I saw the deacon here earlier,” the younger woman added in a whisper.
Her friend agreed.
My breath caught. Had Timothy left someone he cared about behind when he left the Amish community? What could have happened to make the deacon happy that a member of his district left the Amish?
The older woman tucked a stray hair into her white cap. “The family still sees Timothy often.”
“That’s Joseph Zook’s influence. He’s from Lancaster.”
“Ah.” The second one nodded as if that explained Grandfather Zook’s behavior.
Stranded, I wondered if I should go back into the bathroom until they left when one of the women said, “Hello, Becky, how are you doing?”
I peeked out to see Becky give the pair a tentative smile. “Gut, danki.”
The older one spoke. “We were so sorry to hear the news.”
The younger woman nodded. “Very sorry.”
“Danki.”
The pair seemed to have gained steam. The woman leaned forward in their rockers, listening.
“Can you tell us what happened?” the older woman asked.
I stepped out of the bathroom doorway.
Becky noticed me and let out a breath. “Chloe, there you are. Our pie is on the table. Timothy asked me to find you. He was afraid you might have gotten lost.”
I smiled. “I’m fine.”
The two women had the good sense to blush.
As we left, Becky smiled back at the women. “It was nice to see you.” We made our way to the table, and Becky turned to me. “Is something wrong, Chloe? You look upset.”
“I’m fine.” I forced a bright smile onto my face. “I can’t wait for that piece of pie.” At least that much is true.
Chapter Twenty-Two
We left Young’s after three. My furniture was then loaded into the back of Timothy’s pickup and tied down with neon green bungee cords. Timothy helped Grandfather Zook into the buggy, and the three younger Troyer children climbed into the back.
Grandfather Zook winked. “I must get the grandkinner back to the farm to their mamm. She’s going to be mad at me already for having them home late for supper.”
Ruth, who seemed to have perked up while eating her chocolate silk pie, frowned.
Becky squeezed her little sister’s hand and whispered in her ear. But Ruth shook her head, and Becky stepped back from the buggy with tears in her eyes.
Grandfather Zook flicked the reins, and Sparky pulled the buggy away from the hitching post. Timothy, Becky, and I waited until the buggy rounded the corner before climbing into the truck.
Becky rode in silence, wedged between Timothy and me. The ride, which had taken thirty minutes by buggy, took only ten by car.
At the house, Becky and I each carried in an end table, while Timothy set the coffee table in the middle of the room. Then with Becky holding open the door, Timothy and I carried in the couch and set it in the middle of the room. Becky flopped onto it. “I might sleep here tonight.”
I leaned my head to one side. “You can if you want to.”
Gig jumped onto the back of the sofa, walking its length until he found a comfortable place to curl up.
Timothy laughed. “I think your cat likes it.”
I nodded. “I think so.”
Timothy moved toward the door. “I’d better get going. I have a job I promised to finish today.” He glanced at his sister. “Are you coming to church tomorrow, Becky?”
Becky’s nose wrinkled. “I can’t, Timothy. Everyone will be talking about me. You saw what happened between Anna and Ruth. I can’t take more of that. I hope Ruth will speak to me again.”
He furrowed his brow. “Who said she wasn’t speaking to you?”
Becky eyed him. “She didn’t say good-bye at Young’s.”
“She was upset.”
Becky flung her good arm over her face. “For good reason.”
“So are you coming to church tomorrow? People are more likely to talk if you aren’t there. Maybe if they see you, they will think twice.”
Becky sat up. “I’ll go if Chloe goes.”
“I . . .” Since I’d moved to Appleseed Creek, I had every intention of finding a new church to attend, but the previous Sunday I’d found an excuse to avoid it. I would never admit it to anyone but myself, but I was afraid. Entering a new chur
ch where everyone already knew each other and had a history was a terrifying prospect. In Cleveland, I’d attended the same church with the Green family since Tanisha invited me to Sunday school in the second grade.
Timothy was probably right. If Becky didn’t go to church tomorrow, tongues would be wagging. I knew how gossip spread through a church. I remembered how people had talked after my mother’s accident. Not all the talk had been malicious, but even well-intentioned gossip hurt.
I shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Sure, I can go.”
Becky gave me one of her dazzling smiles and flopped back down on the couch.
I followed Timothy to his truck. “Can I talk to you a minute?”
He slammed the tailgate of his pickup, and I jumped.
“Are you nervous?” Timothy asked.
“Me? Nervous? No.”
“You seem to be jumpy every time I see you.”
I shrugged. He was the one who made me nervous, but should I tell him that? “I’m worried about Becky.”
Timothy followed me, his brows knitted in concern. “How is my sister?”
I turned to face him. “Much better than I would be, but I have a feeling it might get worse for her before it gets better.” I told him about my encounter with the women at the farmers’ market and outside the restroom at Young’s.
Timothy let out a long, slow sigh. “That’s what I was afraid of. Bishop Glick was a favorite. Many are devastated at the news. Not just for him and his family, but for themselves. The district will have to choose a new bishop, and he might not be as popular as Bishop Glick.”
“Does the district elect the new bishop?”
He shook his head. “It’s not like running for president, if that’s what you think. The preachers from the area churches will be held up as possible bishops, and God chooses the leader from them. I’ve never actually seen a bishop being chosen since I didn’t join the church.”
It sounded like an odd way to choose a leader to me. “Did everyone like the bishop?”
“No one is universally liked.”
“I’m worried about this thing with Anna, too.” I hugged myself about the waist. “This doesn’t just affect Becky. Your whole family is involved.”
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