Revealing, The (The Inn at Eagle Hill Book #3): A Novel

by Fisher, Suzanne Woods

  Rose peered through the car windows. Crumpled bags and empty containers from fast-food restaurants littered the floor. She opened the back door and brought out a battered overnight suitcase and a bulky purse. A feeling of dread filled her, as if a tornado was heading her way but she wasn’t sure which direction it came from.

  In the kitchen, Rose cleared her throat and introduced Paisley to Vera as Tobe’s friend and tried to smile but knew it came out forced and wrong.

  Paisley smiled largely at Vera. “Oh, dear Mammi Vera! My sweet Tobe has told me so very much about you! He just adores you.” Then she turned to the boys and spoke in a sugary voice to them. “Aren’t you two munchkins just the cutest things!”

  Mim walked in the kitchen and froze. For a long moment, everyone seemed completely dazed by Paisley’s looks and by the way she talked. For a girl with such a small frame, she had the biggest, roundest stomach they had ever seen.

  On and on Paisley went, oohing and aahing over what a quaint village Stoney Ridge was and how charming Eagle Hill was. Buttered up by the compliments, Vera’s tight face softened. Rose thought Vera would recoil from such overfamiliarity but, to her amazement, she saw her almost preening.

  The boys stared at Paisley, their mouths hung open, their eyes opened even wider. Rose put a firm hand on their shoulders and squeezed. “Close your mouths, boys, before a fly lands in them. Time to go feed the livestock.”

  “Aw, Mom,” Luke said, eyes glued on Paisley.

  “Go,” Rose said, shooing the boys outside. Mim wasn’t much better—she was still standing against the doorjamb with a baffled look on her face. “Mim, you help them.” Sammy practically stumbled over Mim because he couldn’t take his eyes off Paisley. Rose closed the kitchen door and turned to face Paisley. She tried to smile. “Tobe should have told us about you.”

  “I suppose he’s shy like that,” Paisley said. “But he’ll have to get used to having a wife.”

  Rose froze. “A wife?”

  Paisley laughed at the shocked look on her face. “We haven’t tied the knot yet. Soon, though. As soon as he gets out of jail. He needs to make an honest woman out of me.”

  Vera’s eyes went wide and she clutched her chest. Rose wasn’t too worried. Vera clutched her chest a lot.

  “When did you last see Tobe?” Rose asked.

  “Before he went into the slammer.” Paisley laughed and patted the bump of her stomach. “Obviously.” Her blue eyes darted around the room, taking everything in. “Do you happen to know when he’ll be released?”

  “Any day now,” Vera said firmly, though Rose knew she had no idea.

  “Soon, you’ll be admiring all this,” she said to the unborn baby.

  “And how did you say you met Tobe?” Rose said.

  “Actually, I didn’t say.” Paisley peered out the kitchen window. “He was a customer at the restaurant where I worked. It was love at first sight.”

  “Paisley,” Rose said carefully, “do you have any proof?”

  “Proof?”

  “About Tobe. Try to understand—you seem to know a great deal about us and yet we’ve never heard a word about you.”

  Paisley looked at Rose for a long moment, then went to her luggage that Rose had set in the corner of the kitchen. She rummaged around, and then held up a blue shirt.

  Rose took the shirt from her. She had made Tobe that shirt three Christmases ago. She remembered every stitch, every seam. Big and square, narrow at the waist. Paisley pulled something else out of her battered suitcase and thrust it at Rose. It was a picture of Tobe with his arm around the shoulders of a then-thin Paisley. “That was taken a year or so ago.”

  Vera took the photo from Rose and sat down to examine it.

  “I can hardly wait to meet the girls and see more of your wonderful house and farm.” Paisley peeked into the living room. “It must be wonderful to be so rich!” Her face was flushed and eyes bright, much too bright.

  Rich? Rich! Rose nearly laughed out loud but didn’t dare, with Vera only a few feet away.

  Just this morning a neighbor brought over a bushel of cabbage claiming they’d had a bumper crop last fall and needed to start cleaning out the root cellar to get ready for spring. Lately, it seemed, everyone thought of the Schrocks when they needed to share their over-wintered fall vegetables. Eagle Hill had more onions, carrots, turnips, and cabbages than Rose knew what to do with, yet she was grateful for the kindness of their neighbors.

  Sammy and Luke felt differently. They would bitterly complain when they faced yet another bowl of stewed cabbage or boiled turnips. She could just predict the scene: one or the other boy would make a face and ask why neighbors never seemed to have an abundance of ice cream or cake. Their ungratefulness would prompt Vera to launch into a long lecture about children in other countries who didn’t have enough to eat, then she would wind down by tossing proverbs at them.

  Paisley turned to Rose. “Just tell me where to go unpack and I’ll take care of myself. I’m very low maintenance.”

  There was an awkward silence as Rose realized Paisley aimed to stay at Eagle Hill.

  Finally Vera broke in. “You can settle into Bethany’s room. It has the best view in the house. Second story. It’s the room to the right of the stairs. Make yourself at home. Just let Rose know if you need anything.”

  “Second story? My, how grand!” Paisley flounced up the stairs with her little suitcase.

  Rose turned to look at Vera. “You want her to stay?”

  “Of course I do. If she’s carrying Tobe’s child, I want her to settle in and make herself at home. Don’t you see? She’s going to tie him down to the farm. He’ll stay here, if he has a wife and child to care for. He’ll settle down for good. I always knew it would happen.” Vera was fairly glowing with happiness. “Kommt zeit kommt ratt.” When the time comes, there will be a way.

  “Has Tobe ever mentioned her name to you? Because he certainly never said a word to me about a girl named Paisley.”

  Vera’s smile faded. “Love at first sight, she said.”

  “I find it hard to believe you’re not horrified that Tobe might be a father without benefit of matrimony.”

  Vera patted the hairs at the back of her neck. “Well, sometimes the young get a little ahead of the wedding.”

  “And what if the child Paisley is carrying isn’t Tobe’s but some other man’s child?”

  Vera clutched her chest. “Oh my soul. Why would anyone lie about such a thing?”

  “I don’t know. But doesn’t it seem fishy to you?”

  “Maybe you’re just being suspicious.”

  “Vera, I’m just trying to be cautious.”

  “And I’m trying to be positive. Don’t you see? This could be the very thing Tobe needs to join the church.”

  Rose raised her eyebrows. “And you think a girl like . . . Paisley . . . would want to join the Amish church?”

  “Love at first sight, she said.” Vera’s chin jutted out. “She loves Tobe and a woman will do anything for the man she loves.” She sat heavily in a chair, as if exhausted. “Why else would she be here?”

  Maybe . . . maybe Vera was right. If Paisley were carrying Tobe’s child, maybe he would finally settle down and become the man he was meant to be. Just when Rose thought Vera might be suffering from a little softening of the brain, she up and surprised her with some insightful thing she said. From time to time, Rose felt a surge of affection for Vera, but mainly she felt she brought a lot of unhappiness on herself. Goodness, she went out halfway to invite it.

  Rose gazed at Vera, a stout, sad woman in her sixties, a widow, her only son gone. Let her have this hope.

  Then another thought crowded in: What about Naomi? What would that hope mean for her?

  Naomi felt unsettled, the way air shifted right before a rainstorm was due in. But the sky was delphinium blue and empty of clouds. Restless and at loose ends, she picked up her scissors, grabbed a swatch of pink fabric from her scrap basket, and cut triangles for a ne
w quilt. She needed a new project, something to calm her mind. Her fingers flew without needing a pattern, a skill that irked Bethany. Each triangle was identical to the one before it. When she had finished with the pink fabric, she glanced up and noticed Bethany come up the driveway. She had been working at the Sisters’ House today and was on her way home. Naomi thought she might stop by the house, but she beelined into the barn. She set the scissors down and stared out the window, still bothered by something she saw earlier today. Or thought she saw.

  Earlier this afternoon, Naomi had dropped off a package at the post office and she spotted a man walking down Main Street. She didn’t immediately recognize him until he crossed the street. There was something familiar about the way he walked, arms bent and aggressive. If she didn’t know better, she thought the man looked like Jake Hertzler . . . but that was impossible. He was long gone and good riddance to him. She never—not ever ever ever—wanted to set eyes on that horrible man again.

  Naomi had only seen Jake Hertzler one time, late at night, though she would never forget it. It would be easy to give in to feelings of hatred for that awful man. But she refused. Instead, she prayed for his soul whenever she thought of him because she knew it was in jeopardy. It was impossible, she knew, to allow hatred to grow in your heart if you prayed for that person. Hatred may visit your heart, but you needn’t invite it to stay.

  She picked out another scrap of fabric from her basket—another soft shade of pink—and set to work cutting out pieces. She felt a little better, but not much, and she reached into her pocket for a Tums. Something just didn’t feel right today.

  Bethany went hunting for Galen in his barn and found him, head bowed low, in the tack room, where he was rubbing down an enormous oval collar with a rag of liniment. She watched him work for a moment, breathing in the smell of saddle soap and oil and horses. Galen looked at home in the tack room, but he looked lonely too. “Do you use that for training buggy horses?”

  He spun to face her, startling at the sound of her voice. “This collar? No. But Amos Lapp bought a new Belgian for fieldwork and he shies at the collar. He asked me for help, so I thought I’d start with a larger collar so it’s not rubbing the horse’s neck. I wanted to clean it first.”

  Clean it? Why, every piece of equipment in this tack room looked like it had been spit and polished that very morning. Meticulous. Fastidious. Galen didn’t even use metal nails to drape the leather bridles—only wooden pegs, so nothing would crimp or crack. Curry combs, leather hole punchers, hoof trimmers, shears were hung in designated spots. Rolled leg wraps, bandages, tins of liniment and oil and saddle soap were arranged in a single row above the workbench. Lead ropes were coiled as neatly as lariats. Stacked on a tack trunk was a pile of clean horse blankets.

  “Is it always like this?”

  He looked around the small room. “Like what?”

  “So . . . scrupulously tidy?”

  “Yes, except after one of your brothers have been in it.” Galen glanced up at the wall wreathed with neatly hung harnesses. “The tack room is one of the most important places in the barn. Everything in its place, and a place for everything.”

  Why, Bethany should bring the old sisters over to this tack room on a field trip, that’s what she should do. They could take a lesson from Galen.

  He took the soiled liniment rag, folded it in half, and draped it over a wooden peg as precisely as Rose draped a dish towel over the kitchen sink faucet. “If you’re looking for Naomi, she’s in the house.”

  Oh! She had become so fascinated with the orderliness of the tack room that she forgot why she had come. “Galen, would you help me find Lodestar?”

  He looked up at Bethany in surprise. “You think that horse is around here? I figured he’d be long gone by now.”

  “Maybe. But maybe not. Jake Hertzler stole Lodestar from Jimmy to make sure everyone knew he had the upper hand, but I don’t think he ever cared about the horse other than turning a profit. So wouldn’t it make sense that he would try to sell Lodestar again? He’s a pretty valuable horse. There are warrants out for Jake’s arrest—I doubt he wants to drag a horse around with him while he’s on the run.”

  “I doubt even Jake Hertzler would be bold enough to sell such a distinctive horse at an auction in this county.”

  “You never met Jake, did you?”

  Galen shook his head. “I saw him once in his truck, but it was getting dark. I’m not sure I would know him if I saw him.”

  “I just have the strangest feeling that he’s nearby. I can’t explain it.”

  Galen’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Have you seen him?”

  “No. Maybe I’m just hanging around Naomi too much. She’s always sensing things that aren’t visible.”

  Galen stiffened. He didn’t like to hear any implied criticism about his sister. “Naomi has good intuition.”

  Bethany nodded. “I know, I know. I think that’s what I’m starting to pay attention to.”

  “Maybe you should call that SEC lawyer Allen Turner and tell him what you told me.”

  “I thought of it, but I haven’t actually seen hide nor hair of Jake. It’s just a hunch. A feeling. I have no proof.”

  “The spring auctions are just starting up again. I could ask around about Lodestar.”

  Satisfied, Bethany turned to go.

  “The chance of finding Lodestar again is low, Bethany. But even if I did find him, would you really want him back? I thought Jimmy had made up his mind to give up horse breeding.”

  Bethany kicked a piece of straw with her shoe. “Haven’t you noticed a change in Jimmy? Something’s wrong. He’s missing his spark. I think he needs that horse back. Maybe once Lodestar is back, everything else will fall into place for him.”

  “Like . . . proposing?”

  Shootfire! How did everybody seem to know she had matrimony on her mind? She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Galen King.”

  He grinned. “I’ll do what I can. If Lodestar is anywhere in Lancaster County, I’ll find him.”

  Rose made a phone call to the minimum security federal prison where Tobe was being held, saying she had an emergency and needed to get a message to him.

  “Just one moment,” and there was a shuffling of papers before the voice came back. “Is this a documented emergency?”

  “In what way?”

  “Is it a matter of life or death for an immediate family member?”

  Rose had to admit that no, it wasn’t. The operator then suggested she had three choices—she could send a letter to the inmate or have his lawyer call and speak to him or wait for the inmate to use his prepurchased minutes during his free time. Then she hung up without a goodbye.

  Rose pressed her forehead against the phone’s receiver. Frustrating! Today’s mail had come and gone, though maybe Mim could take the scooter into town and deliver it to the post office. Even so, a letter wouldn’t reach Tobe for a day or so. Then an answer back might take another few days. It might be four or five days before she heard back from him. Should she try to go visit him? She had offered to visit him but he had discouraged her, telling her he’d prefer letters. To be frank, visiting a prison filled her with panic.

  Should she call Allen Turner? He was a go-between for Tobe and his court-appointed attorney. But then she dismissed that thought. She couldn’t involve him in a family issue like this.

  Back in the house, Rose dashed off a letter to Tobe to find out if he knew a woman named Paisley. She had just arrived at Eagle Hill, with plans to stay. Also, with plans to deliver a baby. His baby.

  And did he have any idea yet when he might be released from prison?

  She had just sent Mim off to town with the letter when she heard Paisley call out to her. “Oh Rose. I’ve had a little accident. Can you come here? Quickly?”

  Rose hurried upstairs to Bethany’s room. There in the middle of the quilt Bethany had just finished—the first quilt she had ever made—was a tipped-over bottle
of bubble-gum-pink nail polish. The polish had started with a puddle and was now spreading out. Paisley stood in the center of the room, a blank look on her face. “I was polishing my toes and must have knocked the bottle over.”

  Rose quickly picked up the bottle and lifted the quilt as carefully as she could, so the rivers of polish would remain on that one quilt block and not spread onto others.

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” Paisley said, fanning her eyes with her hand as if she was trying not to cry. “It’s my condition, you see. I have become so clumsy.”

  Rose’s first inclination was to ask her why she would paint her toenails on someone’s handmade quilt, but instead she said, “It’ll be all right. Bethany can replace that quilt block and it will be good as new.” She was trying to be polite to the girl. It would be a painstaking task to fix this quilt.

  “Well,” Paisley snuffled like a little child. “If you’re sure.”

  As Rose carried the quilt downstairs to the basement to try to get the stain out, she cringed, thinking of Bethany’s reaction. She was going to hit the roof when she saw her spoiled quilt. She had just finished it! Her first quilt.

  After Paisley had recovered from her episode of near tears, she found Rose hanging the quilt on the clothesline and said she wanted a tour of the whole farm. Rose showed her the garden, the henhouse, the pastures, Silver Queen and her colt, and the barn. As they walked, Paisley was full of questions like how fast do chickens lay eggs—daily—and how long did it take for a horse to have a colt—about eleven months—and were sheep a good investment—no—and how much money did Rose think the whole place was worth? She asked Paisley what made her so curious about Eagle Hill and she said, “Oh, well. Tobe can’t stop raving about the place.” She peered into Flash’s stall and the old horse peered back at her. “I suppose it’s become like home to me.”