“Oh, that place.” Andy lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “I just go in now and then to grab a hamburger.”
Right. That wasn’t what the meeting seemed like to him. Andy had sat next to an English man and the two were huddled together, talking in earnest. And perhaps Jesse was mistaken—highly doubtful but there was always a slim chance—but while he was scootering around town on bill collection errands, a car had passed him on the road a few times, driven by that very English man, with Andy in the passenger seat.
“What were you doing at The Chicken Box? Aren’t you underage?”
“That’s where my bookie hangs out.”
Andy groaned. “Not Domino Joe. Of all the bookies in the world, you picked Domino Joe. He doesn’t forgive and he never forgets.”
Jesse nodded. “The very one.”
“How much do you owe him?”
“One thousand dollars . . . by the first Sunday of November.”
Andy let out a whistle. “Any way you can drum up the cash? Maybe you can ask your father for a loan.”
Jesse shook his head. “No chance at all. My dad is completely preoccupied with someone at the hospital who’s dying.” He moved in on Andy and tried to keep a tenor of desperation out of his voice. “If I could just have a little more time, I can make good on what I owe Domino Joe.” Enough time for Jesse to track down Yardstick for one more race. All or nothing. Preferably, all. He glanced cautiously at Andy, inclined to play an all-or-nothing hunch of another sort entirely. During church on Sundays, he had seen Andy gaze at Katrina as if he had her made to order. “My sister has spoken so highly of you. I felt sure you’d be the one who could help me.”
Andy hesitated. He was weakening. “What do you want me to do?”
“Perhaps . . . you could talk to him for me? Put in a good word.” Wisely, Jesse stopped talking and gave him room.
Andy frowned. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He made a dash in the rain from the greenhouse to the barn, disappearing into the yawning open door. Happily, the dog trotted behind Andy, his tail high. Someday, Jesse would like to have a good old dog like that. A loyal companion.
While waiting for Andy to return, Jesse wandered up and down the aisles of the greenhouse, marveling at the sheets of moss growing in flat wooden containers, carpets of emerald green. Moss was something he’d never given any consideration to before, and yet here, it was strikingly beautiful. When he had first heard that his sister was going to stay with Thelma to help her with a moss business, he thought it was a joke. Now, looking up and down the rows of growing moss, he thought it was brilliant. A much less dangerous business venture than a Hundred-Yard Dash.
Moments later, Andy came back to the greenhouse, his fist lifted in the air. “It’s been years since I needed to resort to these.”
Brass knuckles.
So that’s what he reached for in his coat pocket outside of the Sweet Tooth bakery. That’s what scared off those goons. “Seems like a strange thing for a Plain man to have.”
Andy grinned. “One of the many reasons to not bend at the knee yet.” He handed them to Jesse to try on. They fit across the back of his hand cold and secure. “If you show them off at the right time, you won’t ever have to use them. All they’re meant to do is to intimidate Domino Joe’s goons right back. Give you the upper edge.”
Jesse was doubtful, but he was willing to try anything to keep his kneecaps intact. Still, it didn’t solve his primary problem. “And you’ll talk to Domino Joe? Try to buy me a little time? Get him to call off his goons?”
Andy sighed a doubtful sigh. “I’ll do what I can.”
Jesse’s spirits soared. “Thank you, Andy. I’m indebted to you.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
In his puniest voice, Jesse said, “Can I count on your discretion? You won’t say anything about this—”
“No reason to.”
Hugely relieved, Jesse jammed the brass knuckles against his other palm and yelped in pain.
“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
He looked up at Andy in surprise, relieved to see not censure in his expression but rather an understanding light in his eyes. He couldn’t quite stifle a small grin. “Absolutely no idea at all.”
The grin faded, however, when he thought of Domino Joe and his goons, waiting for him around every corner. He rubbed his knees again as he walked out of the greenhouse, ready and armed to face his foes.
From the smell and feel of the air, tonight would bring the first hard frost. Birdy closed the schoolhouse door behind the last student—Luke Schrock had to stay after today for another misdeed—and turned back to take a fond assessment of the little room. It continued to surprise her that she enjoyed her role as teacher. More than enjoyed. She loved it, loved waking up in the morning, loved hurrying to school to start the day.
She’d always thought of herself as a student—after all, she loved to study birds. But never as a teacher. And yet she was actually competent in the role. Perhaps her brother had done her a favor: he’d given her the unexpected discovery that she had a gift for teaching.
This little piece of property had some pull on everyone in Stoney Ridge. Everyone she could think of had something at stake in this school. Her brothers, as school board members. Along with them, the men of Stoney Ridge who had built the snug schoolhouse. The mothers who sent their hearts out the door every morning. And now . . . here Birdy was, pulled in to teach. And loving it!
It mystified her, how life had its twists and turns. It delighted her.
Birdy went to her desk to finish up the grading of seventh and eighth grade essays. The door opened and she didn’t even look up, sure it was Luke Schrock, who had a habit of forgetting his hat and coat. He never remembered until he was halfway home, then he would blast into the schoolhouse and grab them, then blow out again. Without lifting her head, she said, “You have to stop doing this!”
She braced herself for the stomp of his feet, but none came. When she looked up, there was David Stoltzfus, standing in the back, a slightly amused and puzzled look on his face. She jumped out of her chair and it tipped backward. She hurried to pick it up and then knocked over her mug filled with pencils. They went clattering. She gathered the pencils on the ground and stuffed them back in the mug, silently berating herself. Her awkwardness had improved in the last few encounters with David—she hadn’t done anything clumsy during the two times he had come to speak to the class. It only seemed to happen when she was acutely nervous, like now.
David didn’t budge from his spot. He patiently waited until she had recovered from everything . . . but embarrassment.
“Um, hello, David. I wasn’t expecting you today.” He took a few steps toward her. How could a person’s eyes be so true, so beautiful? And—could it be more unfair?—thick dark lashes framed those eyes. Trying not to think of her own rather ordinary eyes, she refocused. She reminded herself to breathe normally.
“Sadie Yoder asked me to bring you the death message of Ephraim.”
“Oh.” Birdy sank down in her chair. It wasn’t unexpected news, but it was still so sad. So very, very sad. “So that’s where Noah’s been today.”
“Yes. Ephraim was taken off the ventilator yesterday afternoon, and passed away around noon today. Sadie called me at the store to let me know the news. I was planning to go back to the hospital this afternoon, but that won’t be necessary. She said they’re all heading to the house.”
“How is Noah doing?” He was a solitary character, that Noah. Lean and lanky and not at all interested in school or in making friends with the other children.
“Quiet. Sad. Surrounded by lots of family.” He smiled. “Last night, gathered around the hospital bed, the entire family sang hymns. I think it was . . . a good death for Ephraim.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “The viewing will be tomorrow and Wednesday, and the funeral on Thursday.”
“So no school on Thursday.”
“No school on Thur
sday,” he repeated. He frowned in thought, then looked up. “I think you said something about a bug attacking Luke Schrock.”
“Yes, yes I did. It’s been a frightful thing for him.” Her eyes lifted to the corners of the ceilings. She was sure the bug must live in the back of the room near Luke’s desk.
“It only strikes Luke, you said.”
She nodded, but she didn’t dare move in case she knocked something else over.
“Have you ever noticed what’s going on when Luke gets stung?”
“No, not really.”
“Is there any chance that my daughters could be involved?”
“Your girls? Why, no. No chance at all. Lydie and Emily sit up front. Molly is over there. And Ruthie—” she pointed to the far row—“she’s on the opposite side of the room.”
David walked over to Ruthie’s desk and turned to look at Luke’s desk. “What I meant was—do you think the younger girls might have been the focus of attention for the children while Luke was getting stung?”
Birdy thought back to what was happening during today’s bug attack event, but she didn’t feel comfortable describing the circumstances to David. It had been Molly’s turn to read her short essay to the class. The assignment was to finish the prompt of “My Favorite—” and write a two-paragraph description about something they liked.
Molly had stood by Birdy’s desk and read the title, “My Favorite—” and before she could finish, Luke shouted out, “Food! The more, the merrier!”
Molly burst into tears and zap! The insect stung Luke. The entire class erupted into chaos. The boys ran to examine Luke’s newest injury, the girls surrounded Molly to offer comfort. It took quite a bit of time to settle the students back into their seats. This time, Birdy had Luke stay after and sweep out the schoolroom.
The reason Birdy didn’t want to tell David the story was because Molly’s story was, indeed, about her favorite food. Ice cream.
She realized that David was waiting for her answer. “It is . . . possible . . . but . . .”
David strode over to Ruthie’s desk, lifted the lid, moved some books around. He stilled, and held up a peashooter. “Aha. I think this might explain a few things.”
Birdy’s mouth went wide. “But . . . how . . . when . . . ?” How could she not have noticed? What kind of teacher was she? How obtuse! How mortifying. And, more importantly, what must David think of her?
But David wasn’t thinking about Birdy. He was holding the peashooter in both hands and snapped it in two, a clean break. Then he put it back in Ruthie’s desk and closed the top. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep this between us. It would be good for Ruthie to think you’re on to her. She’s sneaky, that daughter of mine. Anna used to say we had to ‘outfox the fox’ with Ruthie.” He took his hat off and fingered the brim. “Birdy, I’d like an honest answer. Do my daughters get teased often?”
Slowly, Birdy nodded. “Mostly Molly. The twins look after each other.”
He raised his chin and nodded wisely, as if to say, Ah, I see. He didn’t seem to be surprised. “Molly has a naïveté that makes her a target. Always has.”
No wonder Birdy had a soft spot for Molly. How well she understood her. Birdy had been teased endlessly throughout her school years. If it wasn’t because she was a head or two taller than most everyone, it was her fascination with birds. She used to bring crumbs in her pockets to school and wander off to a quiet place during lunch to lay the crumbs in a circle around her. She would sit as still as a stone until one bird, then another, ventured close. She learned to imitate birdcalls and could summon them as effortlessly as other children whistled for their dogs. Eventually, certain birds learned to trust her and would perch on her open palm to eat crumbs. That was the year her formal name, Betty, was altered to Birdy. The boys meant to insult her but she loved the nickname and it stuck.
David worried his hat in a circle. “Well, hopefully, the mysterious bug stings have been stopped before Ruthie put Luke Schrock’s eye out.” He thumped his hat back on. “I better not keep you. So long, Birdy.” They smiled at each other and a moment of subtle appreciation fluttered between them.
“David, before you go, what made you think Ruthie was the culprit?”
“On Saturday, Mary Mast mentioned that she used to teach school. She remembered a boy shooting off a peashooter in her class. It seemed like something Ruthie might do to protect her sisters from getting teased. She’s tricky, that Ruthie. Quiet but effective.”
Birdy’s heart sank. Mary Mast was not only lovely, but she was clever. And David had spent time with her on Saturday. Apparently that lucky woman, whom Birdy knew would swoop in one day to win David’s heart, had arrived. A fresh wave of envy rolled over Birdy.
God forgive me, she thought, ashamed of her uncharitable thoughts.
Later, when David was finishing up a few extra dinner dishes that the girls had missed, he thought about the peashooter in Ruthie’s desk. He wished he could share that story with Anna. Knowing his wife, she would have laughed and laughed to hear it. She was such a woman for that kind of thing, finding amusement in their children. His hands stilled in their scrubbing, and he shut his eyes. He could hear her voice as if she were standing in the kitchen beside him. She would have said that peashooter solution sounded just like Ruthie; she found a way to get the job done—that of silencing Luke Schrock—and avoid any blame. For a moment, the memories of Anna were so sharp they took his breath away.
He heard a heavy clump on the porch as Jesse jumped onto it from the walkway, splattering icy mud all over the porch. Then the kitchen door squeaked open and there he was, hungry as a bear and full of interesting news. David shook off his melancholy, grateful for the gift of his son.
Wouldn’t you know, no sooner was Jesse prepared to face down the lurking thugs of Stoney Ridge than they ceased lurking. He kept one hand in his coat pocket at all times, and one eye peeled for errant thugs. But even when he deliberately dawdled on Main Street, passing the time of day in front of the Sweet Tooth Bakery, he could not draw them out.
He had Andy Miller to thank for that, no doubt. It was as he indeed hoped, that Domino Joe and his goons were wasting no further time on him. Which was a lucky thing, because Jesse was growing fond of this little charming town. With the exception of Fern Lapp, most people were softening toward him as he became acquainted with them. He found that if he offered to do a stray task that housewives wanted to dodge—clean out a clogged drainpipe or empty ashes from a cookstove—it brought him an invitation to stay for the evening meal. With Molly’s cooking being what it was, he happily accepted all invitations.
But he kept the brass knuckles with him at all times, just in case. His concealed weapon was at the ready, and there was never an occasion to use it. A huge disappointment.
13
Thursday was Ephraim Yoder’s funeral. The service would be held in the Yoder’s barn, so David went early to see if there was anything he could do to help get ready. The Yoder farm sat in one of the most picturesque settings David had ever seen. A hill rose up behind it on the west. To the south, a broad meadow was dotted with Jersey dairy cows, placidly cropping grass as calves gamboled around their mamas. Beyond that a wide stream created a natural barrier to keep the cows from straying. David heard the rush of water over stone as the creek twisted and bent into thick woodland. A big barn stood to the south of the house, with a corral of horses grazing on lush grass. A broad porch stretched across the front of the house. Rocking chairs were perched along the porch, as if waiting for visitors to come calling.
As soon as David arrived, he went to the barn to make sure the benches were in place and, indeed, they were. Someone had seen to it: neat rows lined up evenly in the center of the barn. He glanced at his watch. Still a half hour before others would start to arrive. He sat on a hard backless bench in the back row—the men’s side—and looked across the rows to the opposite side—the women’s side. It felt good to gaze upon the many benches, to think of and pray for al
l who would be sitting on them soon. How he had grown to care about them over this last year!
Today, the entire church would stop business as usual for the day—school was canceled, his store was closed, even farmers who needed a sunny day like today to harvest hay would forego the chore—everything stopped. People young and old would come together to worship God and to thank him for the life of Ephraim Yoder. And to bury Ephraim in the cemetery down the road. The last thing they could do for their friend.
David looked again at the benches in the barn, facing each other. These benches were a reminder that when everyone came to worship, they weren’t isolated individuals but a family of God. They came to worship not just to see and hear but to pray and praise God with one another. As a community.
This. This was the Plain life he loved so much.
David soaked up this moment of quiet, of stillness. Just being here in this beautiful silence was an act of worship. An aspect of the Amish life that he loved most dearly was that solitude and silence were normal conditions of everyday life. Whenever he went into town, he felt barraged by noises: people talking on their cell phones, the squeal of car brakes, the earsplitting sirens of emergency vehicles. Last time he went to the post office, a county worker blew leaves off the sidewalks of Main Street with a gas-powered leaf blower. A man couldn’t even hear himself think!
To David’s way of thinking, there was an intimate connection to God in silence. Silence created an open, empty space where he could become attentive to God, as he was right now, where the useless trivialities of life began to drop away.
This. This was his life. The life he loved.
After the burial of Ephraim, and after the lunch that would follow, and assuming there was an opportune time, David planned to tell Katrina’s news to Freeman, Levi, and Abraham. David gathered all of his stray thoughts and pushed them aside so that he wouldn’t be distracted during the preaching of his sermon.
He rose to start preaching, but soon his eyes went to Katrina. She looked scared. She had left the hymnbook open on her lap as if trying to cover up what was weighing on her mind. He felt a surge of protective love toward her, wishing that he could shield her from all she would be facing in the coming months.
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