Gathering the Threads

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “And absolute power corrupts absolutely.” The detective tapped the envelope with Frieda’s test results on the kitchen table. “I’ll need the name and address of each minister.”

  “What happens now?” Ariana asked.

  “A few more interviews. A detective will interview Mrs. Miller, Frieda, and the siblings. If there’s enough evidence, they will issue an arrest warrant for John Miller. If it is as Quill was telling me before you came in—if there’s not a picture of John Miller anywhere, no vehicle registration, credit cards, and such—we aren’t likely to find him. So the arrest warrant would be just a formality. But we don’t need evidence on who gave Frieda Miller the poison to deal with those who were involved in obstruction of justice. The test results prove she was poisoned, and obstruction of justice is a very serious charge. But everything is hazy and convoluted at this point. If Frieda had died, the two bishops—hers and yours—and perhaps the other ministers would be facing involuntary manslaughter charges.”

  “The bishop still believes we were in rebellion by not yielding to his authority,” Berta said.

  “Your bishop is free to judge people on spiritual matters, but crimes must be reported.”

  “Could he say that since Eli reported it, he’s in the clear?” Ariana asked.

  “Sure. He can say anything, but evidence and eyewitnesses may say otherwise. According to my notes, the ministers came to this house and tried to get Frieda to return home after they had proof she’d been poisoned. If she was clear that she hadn’t taken poison for attention, it was their responsibility to go to the police. Instead, after Mr. Schlabach passed, they pressured her to behave as if nothing had happened to her.” The detective focused on Ariana. “I notice you have bruises. How did you get them?”

  “I was in a car accident a few weeks ago.”

  He nodded. “To your knowledge, have any other crimes been committed against any Amish you know?”

  “No.” Ariana shook her head. “I have nine siblings, four are married, and none have mentioned witnessing or hearing of any abuse. They would’ve talked about it if they knew of it. But you can ask them directly.” She fidgeted with the cup. “I recently spent a few months living outside the Amish community, and until then I didn’t understand the concept of adult bullying. Amish women are so fully taught to submit that we believe surrendering to male authority is the answer to everything. In this community a minister or father isn’t bullying us. He’s exercising his God-given rights.” She looked at Quill. “It wasn’t until you helped me navigate the issues I was having with Nicholas that I began to see bullying for what it really is.”

  “Nicholas had no idea he was bullying you. To his credit, once he was called on it, he saw it for what it was and changed.”

  “He did.” Ariana nodded. “Became a likable man. But it’s harder to discern bullying when your whole life you’ve been submersed in the teachings of a few men who all agree about God’s will. I used to look into the bishop’s eyes and believe the same thing he did—that he was acting out of love because he felt God had given him the responsibility of saving our souls from sin.” She shook her head, eyes on the table. “As I see this bullying issue more clearly, this misuse of influence over the flock through the position of leadership, I feel really stupid.”

  Mamm closed her eyes, tears running down her face. “Me too.”

  “You shouldn’t,” the detective said. “Bullies are sneaky and manipulative. Often they’re passive-aggressive, acting like a friend, winning people’s trust, and then using that power against their victim. Pennsylvania has antibullying laws.”

  “There are laws against bullying?” Mamm asked.

  “Absolutely. The issue runs deep in our society as a whole, and the statistics are staggering. Control is the key thing bullies want, and their main way of getting that control is through fear. Fear of being humiliated publicly and fear of being physically hurt are two of the main ways.”

  “Or fear of going to hell,” Ariana said. “That’s what has been held over our heads for far too long.” She sighed.

  “Look, I think I can help you,” the detective said. “An investigation itself usually shifts the balance of power and brings bullies in line while opening people’s eyes to recognize controlling behavior. And I shouldn’t ask this, but off the record, if you had one thing you’d like to see come out of this meeting today, what would it be?”

  Ariana sat up. “For Berta to be allowed to see her sons, daughters-in-law, and grandchildren without negative consequences from the community. And for Frieda to know that people believe her and that the Amish recognize she was done wrong, very wrong.”

  Quill nodded. “That would be really nice. The ministers have been particularly hard on this family. My four brothers and I didn’t join the church, so we couldn’t be officially shunned, which should’ve meant, according to the Old Ways, that we could visit Mamm at will as long as she was okay with it.”

  “Off the record, I’ll see what I can do to make that a part of the outcome.” The detective closed his laptop and set his notebook on top of it. “I could be wrong, but personally I believe that by the time I’m finished with the interviews and town hall–type meetings to inform people how badly this situation was handled—without revealing any names, of course—and how many charges could have been brought against those ministers if Frieda had died, I think you could have the red carpet rolled out for you when you visit.”

  Mamm burst into tears. “It sounds as if I could see my grandchildren without fear of being shunned. Without disobeying my spiritual head.”

  “It does, Mamm. I agree.” Quill hoped the detective was right.

  Ariana remained in her chair, still wearing her coat as if the house were cold. But it was her heart that felt the cold winds of fresh loss. Berta grabbed her coat and walked out with the detective. Maybe she had a few questions she didn’t want to ask in front of Ariana or Quill. Exhaustion pounded her, and she longed to get into her rig. She would eventually go home and crawl into bed, but right now she wanted to go for a long walk and cry.

  Her grief over losing Rudy weighed on her, but how could she leave right now? Berta had a lot to process too. Maybe she’d finally be able to see her family freely and in the open. Ariana hoped that was true.

  Quill fiddled with the lid on the sugar bowl. “I didn’t think to ask the detective how he knew the case file had been lost.”

  “Daed called the police station to inquire.” Ariana picked up the mugs and took them to the sink. “He said he’s had enough believing what he’s told and it’s time to seek truth outside of what the bishop has to say. I guess it’s a new day in Summer Grove.”

  “This could make a lot of difference for you.”

  Ariana left the mugs in the sink. “Do you think it will?” She turned.

  “When it comes to light how wrong the bishop has been, how spiteful and manipulative, people will see his stance against you as hypocrisy or mental illness. Either way, I think they’ll let go of their views on your so-called rebellion.”

  “Ya. I guess so.”

  “Frieda is talking more and more often about wanting to come back. People who’ve been through what she has have a lot of anxiety, maybe from the whole ordeal, but I think the poison wrecks the system. If things go as the detective expects, it will help her a lot…eventually. And maybe she’ll be able to push through and return to Summer Grove for occasional visits.”

  “You tell her I would love to see her anytime, and if she’s ever interested in a job, she can have one in the café with as many or as few hours as she’d like. Or if she wants to start that cake and cupcake business she used to talk about, I’ll carry them in my café and help her find other places to sell them, like nonfranchised restaurants.”

  “These last few weeks have been particularly hard on you and Rudy. But this news is going to make a huge difference and fairly fast. Probably within the next few weeks, attitudes in the community will begin to shift.”

 
Ariana slunk into a chair, her body too heavy for her to stay on her feet. “Rudy is going home to live.” She couldn’t look up from the table for fear she’d break into tears, but she could feel Quill’s eyes on her.

  “You two have weathered so much. The storm is all but over.”

  “It’s not about that.”

  Berta walked back inside. “You two look glum, and yet we were given very hopeful news. The detective believes I’ll soon be able to see my sons, daughters-in-law, and grandchildren without it causing any trouble. That’s amazing.” She snapped her fingers. “So explain all this glumness.”

  Since Ariana was the reason for the sadness, she needed to be the one to respond. “I am very happy for you, Berta. My joy runs deep for the justice that will unfold.”

  “And yet you sound very sad, so what gives?”

  “I’ll try to sound better and look less sad.” She wasn’t going to walk around with her hurt shining for all to see, but it was just too new to hide right now. “Rudy and I are no longer together.”

  “But he was just here a couple of hours ago.”

  “He was here to say good-bye.”

  “I knew you two didn’t look happy.” Berta’s eyes narrowed. “When I saw the cast on his hand, I thought maybe that was the cause. Now, looking back on the strain I saw between you, I’m wondering how he hurt his hand.”

  “He broke it.” Ariana stood. “Let’s change the subject. I’m really very glad for your good news.” She hugged Berta. “It’s like we’ve finally received the miracle we’ve been praying for all these years.”

  Berta gently released Ariana and clutched her hands. “Honey, is there something you need to tell us about Rudy?”

  “Nee.” Ariana moved to the cabinet and got a glass. “Would either of you like some water?”

  “My question seems fair, Ari,” Berta said.

  “But it’s not.” Ariana filled the glass from the faucet.

  Berta clicked her tongue. “Maybe I should talk to his aunt about this.”

  “Berta,” Ariana snapped, “stop.” She couldn’t let Berta slip off to see Rudy’s aunt. “Look, Rudy and I somehow found each other, and the relationship worked.” She took a drink, trying to settle her nerves and shore up her strength. “Months later, when he learned things about me that I could hardly tolerate, he never batted an eye. Didn’t care that my parents were Englisch or that I’m the result of an affair.”

  Berta’s expression intensified, and she glanced at Quill. Clearly she hadn’t known that about Ariana. Very few did. Ariana wasn’t sure her Mamm and Daed knew.

  She would regret saying these things. She knew she would. But she couldn’t stop. “He loved me, not the face or the figure or the hype of me being a twin who survived the fire at the clinic the night I was born or any esteem I had in the community. When I went from a position of respect to one of disdain in this community, he took it in stride.” She picked up her coat. “I was in the world with you”—she gestured at Quill—“and he remained patient, trusting, and faithful. I wouldn’t have been that person to him if he’d been out there with some female equivalent of who you are to me.” She went to the door. “But all of that aside, what really irks me, Berta, is that you’re making me defend him. I should be free to rail and complain if I want to, but I should not have to defend him.” She reached to open the door.

  Berta moved in, flattening her back against the door and facing her. “You’re right. We got hopeful news tonight, but I’m furious with myself, with this whole Frieda scenario. I’m angry that I never once got in the bishop’s face about it. After Quill got Frieda out and she felt safe, I should’ve gone to the police and checked on the complaint Eli filed. But I accepted what the bishop dished out as God’s lot for me, for this family. So just then the thought of any man being out of line with you angered me.”

  Berta had targeted what was going on. Each of them was feeling guilty and angry for the blind spots and weaknesses that had allowed the ministers to do them and others so very wrong. Berta and Ariana were openly airing their emotions, and Quill was keeping his under wraps, but the negative energy in the room had a grip on all of them.

  Ariana drew a deep breath. “Conversations about Rudy are off-limits.”

  “Ya.” Berta nodded. “I’ll say nothing to no one, including you.”

  “Gut.” Ariana drew another deep breath, refusing to cry.

  Berta embraced her. “We’ve been through harsh times before, you and me.”

  “I’m so very ready to heal and have fun again.” Ariana released her. “It seems as if it’s been forever since times were light and airy and my heart sang like birds in spring.”

  Berta cupped her chin. “But it will happen. I promise.”

  Ariana nodded. “Ya, it will.”

  “I need to ride for a bit.” Berta grabbed her coat. “To get in a rig by myself and think and cry and sing and rail in bitterness at all I’ve handled wrong. Do you mind?”

  Quill shook his head. “I don’t mind. I think it’s a good idea. I run to get things in perspective, Ariana takes long walks, and you ride in a carriage.”

  Berta looked to Ariana.

  “Nee. I don’t mind. Go. I’m leaving in a bit too.”

  “This revelation about the ministers is tempting me to refuse to attend church for a while, at least until they are openly remorseful or removed.”

  “You and I feel the same, Berta, but we should go anyway. Our faith is stronger than any lies or any mistreatment by man. In the coming weeks, when the investigation is complete and others learn how wrong the ministers have been, they’ll be hurt and confused and laden with guilt for their complacency and loyalty to the bishop’s leadership. I think they’ll need to see that we were not and are not broken or bitter.”

  Berta nodded, sighing. “You’re right.” She left, and the house had never seemed so quiet. Ariana should go, but she wasn’t ready, and the dishes in the sink were calling to her. She removed her coat and turned on the hot water.

  “You’re good and kind to Mamm.” Quill set another mug in the sink and then leaned back against the counter and looked at her.

  “It’s easy to understand women, Berta in particular, and to know what to say.” Ariana squirted dish detergent under the running faucet. “It’s men I’m weary of.” Her words reverberated inside her, and she put a wet, sudsy hand on Quill’s shirt collar, turning that spot from light to dark blue. “That was rude. Not you. The more I understand, the more I’m glad you’re a friend. And Daed’s had a change of heart. I…I’m just wrung out right now.”

  “This thing with Rudy will take a long time, but many other parts of your life will get easier soon.”

  Tears welled from deep within. “My heart is broken.”

  “I know.” The empathy in his tone implied a deep understanding. “We have the keys to surviving, and we’ve used them often: faith, family, and staying very, very busy. Be excessively busy, Ari, and one day, maybe years from now, you’ll realize you’re breathing easy again.”

  “I didn’t lose myself this time.” She washed a mug for far too long. “Rudy and I were coming undone—voices raised, anger flowing like lava—but I knew what I wanted to do going forward, and I realized that my views of what is right and wrong will continue to change throughout life. My view of God and myself will continue to change. But my heart that longs to do good for others wherever I can will remain true and filled with love as long as I’m true to God and myself.” She dropped the mug into the water. “Look.” She dried her hands and pulled out of her hidden pocket a torn piece of paper with handwriting on it.

  Quill smiled. “I like this.”

  “Excellent, isn’t it? Of course the given is that the relationship with God is in order first. But then…‘This above all—to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.’ ”

  Quill continued to look at the note.

  Ariana fished the clean mug from the water
and rinsed it. “I have a new plan. I don’t know how good it is, but it feels right. I’m going to try to have historians come to the café to speak on Friday nights, hopefully at least once a month. I want people to understand this world.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I do.”

  “Maybe I should also try to bring in archaeologists and meteorologists and physicists and astronomers and—”

  “So scientists, then.”

  “Sh.” She washed another mug. “Scientists have a worse reputation around here than both of us combined. But if I keep the person’s title specific, maybe it will take the edge off for most. A few people might be interested.”

  “Every fire starts with a spark of some kind. But your plan will come with a price, even if the current situation with the ministers causes us to get all new ministers.”

  “Maybe the pain of that war will help me not feel the loss of Rudy so acutely.”

  “It seems we’ve each found our way of being who we are where we are—you among the Amish and me among the Englisch.”

  “Ya, seems so.”

  “Could you…would you mind sending a text every once in a while to keep me posted on how your plan is going?”

  “I can do that, say once a month?”

  “Deal. Your plan about speakers is good one, Ari. But remember that it took fifteen years for the civil rights movement in the sixties to accomplish its basic goals, and that was just the beginning. Breaking prejudice and misconceptions is an ongoing thing even today. I expect the time line of reform within the Amish to be much the same.”

  “I’m in no hurry.” Her time was God’s, and she might never be willing to yield that limited resource to another man.

  Inside her empty café at the end of the day, Ariana pulled her cell from her apron pocket, ready to text Quill. It would be the first time to message him since they’d met with the detective at Berta’s home. More than a month had passed, and her head wasn’t as foggy or her heart as shattered over the breakup. The fogginess and pain were still there in copious amounts but nothing like the first weeks.