Reap a Wicked Harvest

by Janis Harrison

“That discovery was made when she turned fifteen. But even before that, I was her least favorite person. I was gone most of the time she was growing up. When I was home, she looked upon me as an interloper who took too much of her mother’s attention. As Jillian grew older, she resented how unhappy her mother was after I’d leave on assignment. When Cheri died, I barely made it home in time for the funeral.”

  “From what I saw, Jillian cares for you very much.”

  “My almost dying scared her. She says she doesn’t want to be an orphan.” Bailey grinned. “She’s a very self-sufficient young woman, but it frightened her when she was faced with the fact that I might not always be around. Our time together these last few weeks was a special gift. I guarded it carefully, even excluding you. I’m sorry for that, but in order for me to get closer to my daughter, I had to keep you at arm’s length.”

  “So you’ve worked through your problems with her?”

  Bailey sighed. “Let’s just say we’ve reached an understanding that somewhat eases my mind. But I want my relationship with Jillian to be stronger.” He turned to face me. “I’ve made a decision, Bretta. I’m going away for a while.”

  My stomach constricted into a tight ball. “To be with Jillian?”

  “Yes. She’s getting married in a couple of months. Before she starts her new life, I want to know her better.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to imagine me as a grandpa, but there’ll be grandchildren in the future. I want to be assured that I’ll have a place in their lives.”

  I thought about the emptiness I’d felt when Bailey had been close and there was a chance I could see him. What would I do if he was miles away? I wanted to beg him to reconsider, but I didn’t have that right, and I wouldn’t have done it anyway.

  I glanced at him. “I’m not happy about your decision, but my reason is selfish. I’ll miss you.”

  Bailey picked up my hand and tenderly kissed it. “I’ll miss you, too, but I won’t be gone forever. A couple of months tops.”

  “Two months,” I said softly. “Eight weeks. Approximately sixty-two days.”

  He chuckled and pulled me close so that my head rested against his chest. “Are you going to calculate hours and minutes, too?”

  I sighed and snuggled closer. “At some point I might, but not now. This feels too nice.” I raised my head and looked into his eyes. “Kiss me like you’ll miss me,” I whispered.

  “My pleasure.” Bailey’s lips grazed mine before they settled in with a hunger that drove all thoughts out of my mind.

  When the kiss ended, I was breathless. My smile trembled when I gazed up at him. “You will miss me.”

  “Did you have a doubt?”

  “Yes, but not anymore.”

  His laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “Foolish woman.” He nuzzled my ear. “If you need more convincing, I have a couple more tricks up my sleeve.”

  I turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure those tricks are up your sleeve?”

  Bailey threw back his head and hee-hawed. When he could speak, he said, “You, ma’am, are very observant, and absolutely correct.” His expression grew somber as he studied my upturned face. “I love you,” he said. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I like hearing it.”

  “You’ll be careful while I’m gone.”

  “As careful as I ever am.”

  “I’m thinking about this current investigation. You’re staying with Natalie for a few nights?”

  I nodded. “If I’d known you were leaving, I probably wouldn’t have agreed. I’d like to spend more time with you.”

  Bailey grimaced. “That’s my new truck parked on your driveway. It’s packed and ready to roll. I’ve asked DeeDee to give my house a thorough cleaning every week while I’m gone. She didn’t want to take my money, but when I come home I want the house ready to live in.”

  “You’re leaving right away?” I could hardly get the words past the lump in my throat.

  “Yes. This is good-bye.”

  Tears welled up. “I hate good-byes.”

  Bailey tightened his arms around me. “But imagine what will happen when we say hello again in two months.”

  I squirmed around in his arms until I was pressed against his chest. I ran my hand over his cheek, down the side of his neck to the base of his throat where I felt the steady beat of his heart. My hand continued the journey across to his shoulder and down his muscular arm. When our hands met our fingers interlocked.

  “We’ll be like this?” I said.

  Bailey didn’t speak, but nodded slowly, his gaze on my face.

  I took a shaky breath. “Two months, huh? Maybe I can lose those ten pounds I’ve been fighting, and I’ll invest in a new nightgown.”

  “Don’t waste your money,” he said, running his hand over my hip, up my midriff to lay possessively against my breast. Before claiming my lips again, he whispered, “I don’t want you to change one thing on this body while I’m gone.”

  Whispers in the foyer brought me back to reality.

  “We c-can’t go in t-there. They n-need this t-time t-together.”

  “I really should get back to the lodge.”

  “I’ll handle this.” In a loud voice, my father said, “And that was the garden, Mrs. Parker. It’s coming along nicely, as you’ve just seen.”

  I moved reluctantly away from Bailey and smoothed my hair. My lips burned from the recent ravaging, but the sensation was pure bliss.

  I called, “You guys don’t have to stand around in the foyer. Come on in.”

  Like a herd of anxious gazelles, my father, Natalie, and DeeDee skittered through the doorway. I got up from the sofa but turned back to Bailey. “Go now, while I’m packing. We’ve said our good-byes. I don’t want to watch you drive away.”

  He nodded and gave my hand a squeeze. “Fourteen hundred and eighty-eight hours, Bretta. I’m already counting.”

  With my throat tight and tears burning my eyes, I pulled my hand out of his. I walked from the room and didn’t look back.

  Chapter Six

  The ride to the lodge was made in silence. After I’d told Natalie about Bailey’s decision to visit Jillian for a couple of months, she’d patted my hand and summed up our present attitude. “Life sucks, don’t it?” she said. “But the alternative is worse.

  As we topped the bluff, Jacob was again sitting on the loading-dock steps. This time when I met his gaze, he hesitated for a second, and then he beckoned to me. I nodded and drove on by, parking by the front sidewalk. I took my suitcase out of the SUV and walked to the lodge. Deputy Whaler was stationed on the porch. While Natalie unlocked the front door, I asked, “Has it been a quiet day?”

  “The phone’s been ringing,” he said, cocking his head toward the house. “If you’ve got an answering machine it should be loaded with messages.”

  Natalie pushed open the door just as the phone began to ring again. “That may be Dan,” she said and hurried off.

  I left my suitcase in the foyer. “Anything else going on?”

  “Officials doing their job, ma’am. The kid that’s staying over at the greenhouse has wandered around, but he’s steered clear of the garden. Seems like an all right guy, kind of backward in some things.”

  “He’s Amish.”

  “So I’ve heard. He doesn’t dress like the Amish I’ve seen.”

  “I’d like to speak with him. Would that be all right?”

  Jon nodded. “I have instructions from the sheriff that you, Bretta Solomon, can go wherever you please, with the exception of the gardens. If you’d care to go there, that’s been approved, too, but I’m to accompany you.”

  I stared at him, taken totally by surprise. Finally I asked, “Are we talking about the same sheriff? The man I know as Sid Hancock? He’s kind of short, has red hair, and usually scowls instead of smiles.”

  The deputy ducked his head to hide his grin. “That would be the one, Mrs. Solomon.”

  I shook my head. “I’m amazed, but
I’ll take Sid up on his generous offer. And I’m not interested in the garden.” I shuddered. “I saw enough of it last night.”

  “I understand you ID’d the victim. Pretty bad from what I hear. I was on traffic duty, so I didn’t see the scene until the body had been removed.”

  I stepped off the porch. “Gruesome is the word that sticks in my mind. Are you the only officer on the estate?”

  “For now. My shift is up at seven this evening. I’ll be replaced with three deputies for the night hours. One is to be stationed here at the house; the other two will keep an eye on the business area and circulate in an unspecified patrol around the estate.”

  “Thanks,” I said and this time I didn’t tarry. Sid might have given me carte blanche, but he could revoke that privilege at any time.

  I walked down the drive toward the loading dock, thinking about my relationship with Jacob’s family. After my mother had passed away, I’d sold the farm to Evan and his wife, Cleome. They had seven children, and Jacob was the oldest.

  Over the years, I’d visited with the Miller family. Evan and I’d discussed many topics, but we rarely talked about his Amish beliefs. That had changed when his brother, Isaac, was murdered. Evan had asked for my help in understanding the investigation that was conducted by the local law enforcement. He’d trusted me not to abuse our friendship, but trust is a fragile commodity during a murder inquiry. Prying questions had to be asked, and Evan and the rest of the Amish community hadn’t taken the invasion of their privacy very well. Distrust, displeasure, and discrimination had hung like an angry cloud over the small town of Woodgrove, Missouri, home to more than fifty Amish families.

  I hadn’t been back to Woodgrove to visit the Millers since Isaac’s murder had been solved. I’d had good intentions, but hadn’t followed through with them. Finding Jacob here yesterday had been a surprise. I wondered what had happened to make him leave home and live among the English, which is what the Amish call anyone not of their faith.

  Jacob straddled an ATV that was parked by the loading dock. The body of the four-wheeler was painted yellow; the leather seat was black. It looked like a giant bumblebee. When he saw me, he climbed reluctantly off the machine.

  “Hi,” he said in a dull tone. “I never realized how lonely Sundays can be. Jess was going to give me a riding lesson, but he didn’t come out here today. I asked Eugene, but he’s busy watering plants in the greenhouse.”

  I looked through the open loading-dock door. “Eugene is here?”

  Jacob nodded. “He’s in B greenhouse where the tropical plants are kept.”

  Not wanting Eugene to hear my conversation with Jacob, I said, “Let’s move over to that tree where there’s more shade.” I led the way to the gigantic sycamore. A breeze stirred the leaves, but the air was hot and humid.

  “I’d like to know why you’ve left home,” I said.

  “It is hard to explain to an outsider. Besides the Bible there are unwritten rules the Amish base their morals and way of life on. The Ordung are the unwritten rules of the church. Rumschpringes is recognized by the Ordung.”

  “Rumschpringes? Is that German?”

  “Yes. Loosely translated it means ‘time out’ or ‘running around.’ Under the Ordung young men and women from the ages of sixteen to twenty can see what the outside world is like. This is their last opportunity before deciding to accept the Amish lifestyle. Many Amish go back east to Pennsylvania. There are stories of how they mix with the wrong kinds of people and use drugs and drink and party. I am not interested in shaming my family.”

  “Then Evan and Cleome approve of your present circumstances?”

  Jacob smiled. “I did not say that. Rumschpringes is allowed, but not everyone practices it. I am the only one in our district who has left home to live among the English.”

  “What if you like this world? What if you decide never to go home?”

  His smile disappeared. “There is that possibility, but we are not supposed to be prisoners. When someone accepts the Amish faith, he has come to that decision with his heart, as well as his soul. He is unwavering in his beliefs.”

  “Why did you choose to come here?”

  Jacob hesitated, then said, “I have experience with plants. I’m accustomed to heat and hard work. I know how to use a shovel, and I can pull weeds. I would not have felt comfortable working in a hardware store or in a restaurant.”

  “And you knew no one when you applied for a job?”

  Jacob’s eyes clouded, and he stared into the distance. “No,” he said softly. “I knew no one.”

  “You told me you’d only been here a week, and yet you and Marnie seemed to have had a close friendship.”

  Jacob shook his head as if clearing away an image. When he turned to me, his smile was gloomy. “Yes. I guess that’s why I’m lonely. I won’t see Marnie again.”

  “What did you and she talk about?”

  Jacob chuckled. “I didn’t do much talking. Marnie could talk all day. Harley said she jabbered like a parrot.”

  “On any particular subject?”

  He shrugged. “No. She was looking forward to going to college this fall.”

  “What do you think happened? Why do you think she was killed?”

  “I guess someone thought she was an inconvenience.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? An inconvenience?”

  “She must have been troublesome to the person who took her life.”

  “Do you have a reason for saying that?”

  “Jess called Marnie pesky. Irma thought she was nosy. Marnie always had questions.”

  “What did Marnie ask Jess that annoyed him and made Irma think she was nosy?”

  “Marnie was curious about everything. How many employees worked here at the greenhouse? How long people stayed, why they left? Was the water from the quarries more healthful for the plants than well water?”

  There didn’t seem to be anything unusual about those questions. When I’ve hired a new employee at the flower shop, I’ve been annoyed by questions about why I placed a flower in a specific spot or why I used that particular kind of greenery in a bouquet. I consider my work an art with intuition guiding my hand. I can’t always explain why or how I do what I do. Had Marnie quizzed people because she was trying to learn or did she have another objective in mind?

  I said, “Marnie told me you’d talked to her about your uncle’s murder. How did that subject come up?”

  “I don’t remember. I got the feeling that she was looking for information, but she never told me what she wanted. We talked about things from my world and from hers. She admired my people and how their beliefs kept them unpretentious. She said that deception wasn’t normally her way. To scheme felt wrong.”

  Scheme? That was interesting. I followed it up by asking, “Do you remember what you’d been talking about when she made that comment?”

  “Dan had told her that there are orchid blooms that mimic a particular female insect. That way the bloom will appear attractive and will be pollinated and survive. I told Marnie I think human nature and Mother Nature have much in common. Deception is shared in both worlds. For plants this trickery is a marvel, but in humans it is sometimes wicked.”

  All along I’d thought Marnie had something specific in mind with this talk about questions and answers. Now I find that she’d also talked about deception and scheming. I looked at Jacob. “I don’t suppose Marnie gave you any details about this scheme of hers?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask.” He ducked his head. “We were just talking. I didn’t know that it was important.” He raised his head to meet my gaze. “I chose to leave my family and observe Rumschpringes so I could learn more about the entire world, not just the Amish way of life.”

  He gestured disparagingly. “But I’m like a newborn calf. I want to stand on my own two feet, but I keep stumbling. There were questions I could have asked, but I didn’t. There were things I could have done, but I didn’t.”

  “That’s called h
indsight, Jacob. We all wish we’d done things differently in our lives.”

  Overcome with emotion, he blinked his eyes, but the sheen of tears glistened. “A second chance is all I’m asking for. One more chance.”

  Puzzled, I asked, “To do what? Nothing will bring Marnie back.”

  Jacob dashed a hand across his eyes. “Marnie?” he said, sounding confused. “Yes. Of course. I know.”

  The poor guy was really broken up. I touched him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to keep pressing you to remember things, but I want Marnie’s killer caught.”

  “I don’t think I’m helping you.”

  I wanted to agree, but I pointed to Dan’s laboratory instead. “Have you been in there?” I asked.

  Jacob shook his head. “I’ve looked through the glass door. Orchids don’t interest me. They’re too—uh—” He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know what the word is.”

  “Alien?” I said. Seeing Jacob’s baffled expression, I added, “Different, strange, or maybe weird.”

  “I don’t like the words strange or weird. Different is a better description. It doesn’t sound so judgmental.” Jacob gestured to his T-shirt and shorts. “Dressed like this I can walk down any street in River City, and no one gives me a second glance. But if I were dressed in my Amish clothes, people would gawk, point, or say cruel things.

  “Marnie said she liked me because I am open and truthful. She said she didn’t want to be deceitful, but sometimes the end justified the means.” Jacob’s brow wrinkled in thought. “Marnie must have meant that if she did something wrong it would end in something right. But she is dead, and her killer is free.” He held out his hands. “Where is the justice?”

  I didn’t have an answer—yet. But without hesitation, I assured Jacob that I was working on it. My statement amazed me. I never thought that I, Bretta Solomon, would get purposely involved in an investigation but apparently, DeeDee was right. My subconscious was always at work. I picked up information, stored away impressions, and listened to what people had to say.

  At the moment, I was at a loss. No specific idea had presented itself. While I was thinking, Jacob said he was going for a walk down the drive to stretch his legs. I wasn’t ready to go back to the lodge. Seeing the open loading-dock door, I decided to have a word with Eugene.