He hesitated. It was on the tip of his tongue to mention the idea he had about opening his own practice here instead of in Philly, but he changed his mind. It wouldn’t be good to get his grandfather’s hopes up about him staying if it didn’t work out.
“I talked quite a while to Samuel at church on Sunday. He said some of the same things you have about God having a plan for my life. He seems to think I need to be patient, not try to plot my course. And listen.”
“That so?” His grandfather’s mouth quirked in a grin.
“I always liked Samuel. Never thought he’d end up being a lay minister.”
John rose and poked in the bread box on the kitchen counter. “Cinnamon roll?”
“Sure. These Miriam’s?”
His grandfather took a huge bite of one, chewed, and swallowed. “Ya. She dropped them off earlier.”
She was avoiding him. So far she’d stopped by three times and he’d missed her.
John pulled a catalog over and thumbed through it, occasionally taking a paper napkin and wiping frosting off a page.
Mark got up for more coffee and filled his grandfather’s mug. “So, you want to make out the seed order?”
“You don’t need to go do something on that fancy laptop of yours?”
“It can wait.”
He was learning to slow down a little, not constantly try to figure out his life. And who knew how many more moments he’d have with his grandfather if he got a job in Philly soon?
John reached behind him to open a kitchen drawer and pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil. He jotted down his order for the past year, and as he talked and wrote, Mark wondered if he had inherited his sharp memory from his grandfather.
The prices in one catalog were cheaper than the other, and Mark asked why he was ordering from the more expensive company. That led to a discussion of the merits of each company. In his grandfather’s opinion, the more expensive company treated Amish farmers much better than the company that tried to lure them with cheaper prices. Like most of the Amish farmers locally he also used organic methods of growing crops that saved on fertilizers and other chemicals that weren’t good for people or the land.
Before he knew it, the afternoon had passed and it was time for supper. John pulled a plastic container from the freezer, opened it, and dumped it into a pot on the stove. “Vegetable beef soup. Waneta brought it over last week while you were out of town. I put it in the freezer for a night when we didn’t want to cook.”
“That’s most of the time for me.”
He chuckled. “I really appreciate how Miriam makes sure I have good meals. And Waneta likes to drop off a pie occasionally.”
“Rain’s stopped,” Mark said, glancing out the window as he carried the mugs to the sink. He watched his grandfather stir the soup as it thawed in the pot. Back home he’d have nuked it in the microwave. Well, he wouldn’t have had something homemade to nuke. Warming it here took considerably longer than a microwave, but the scent of the soup was mouth-watering and worth waiting for.
Mark pulled out his cell phone and checked his email. Like his snail mail, it contained nothing important.
He got out bowls, sliced bread, and set the table while his grandfather puttered at the stove stirring the soup.
The meal was simple but filling and just right on a cool, damp night. Mark had eaten at some four star restaurants back in Philly, but none compared to meals like this.
They were just finishing when he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He excused himself to take the call in the other room.
“Mark? Lou. Got some news for you.”
He could hear the note of suppressed excitement in the private investigator’s voice. “What’s up?”
“I got proof it was a set-up in your client’s case. Found a witness willing to talk.”
Mark listened as Lou supplied the details. A witness claimed the real murderer was a member of a gang Maurice had been a part of years before who had a grudge. The police had obviously been happy to be able to arrest Maurice and close the case.
“The witness is nervous,” Lou said. “I set him up in a motel outside town, advanced him some money for expenses. How fast can you get here to talk to him?”
Mark glanced at the kitchen clock. “I can leave now. Go sit on him, make sure he doesn’t bolt.”
“I’m parked outside the motel right now.”
“Good. Be careful. I’ll call you on the road.” Mark disconnected the call and turned to see his grandfather watching him with a worried expression. “The private investigator found a witness related to that murder case. I have to drive to Philly tonight.”
“It can’t wait until morning?”
Mark shook his head and grabbed his jacket from its peg by the back door. “Guy’s scared. I have to talk to him, take him to see the police as soon as possible for his own safety.” He grabbed his car keys, paused to think if he needed anything from his room.
“Give me one minute,” John said, heading back into the kitchen. He returned with a thermos and a paper bag. “Coffee and a couple of those cinnamon rolls for the road.”
Mark took them and gave his grandfather a hug. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
“Drive careful. The roads will be wet and it may sleet.”
“I’ll be careful.” He shook his head. “Do you know what this means? If someone else murdered the man my former client’s accused of, he’ll be cleared. Again.”
John nodded. “And your boss will have to give you your job back.”
“He doesn’t have to do anything. But yeah, it clears my name of the cloud that’s hung over it since the arrest. But I’m not going to think that far ahead yet. I have to get to Philly before the witness has a chance to change his mind.”
“I’ll pray for you.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”
He rushed to his car and took off in a flurry of gravel.
Twenty-Eight
Miriam stared at John. “Gone? Mark’s gone?”
He nodded. “Went rushing back to Philadelphia last night. The private investigator called him, said he needed to come right away. Seems he found someone who can help clear his client.”
She set her tote bag on the kitchen table. “That sounds like very gut news.” She forced herself to pull the plastic containers from the bag. Mark had waited so long for his client to be vindicated. He must have been ecstatic that he’d been proven right. “I guess this means he’ll be given his old job back.”
John paused in the act of pouring a cup of coffee. “Ya.” He set the percolator back on the stove. He sat down at the table and stared at the mug in his hands without drinking the coffee.
“I’m sorry,” Miriam rushed to say. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
He lifted his gaze, and Miriam’s heart ached at the sadness in his faded blue eyes. “It’s allrecht. I’m being selfish, thinking of myself.”
“If that’s being selfish, I’ve been selfish, too,” she confessed.
“You?”
She nodded. “I’ve loved Mark being here. He’s been my friend for so many years.”
“I had hopes . . .”
“Of him taking over the farm,” she finished.
“More.”
“More?” She sank down into a seat at the table opposite him.
“I’d hoped the two of you would be more than friends.”
Miriam avoided his eyes, afraid that if she looked at him, he’d see too much. “John, Mark loves his work and his life in Philadelphia. As much as he’s seemed to enjoy being here, I think he really wants to be there again.”
He sighed heavily. “He took off in such a hurry, he left ruts in the gravel in the drive. I had to go out and rake the drive this morning.”
She could just imagine the sight of Mark driving off in such a rush. “Well, it’s time Mark gets to show his boss he was wrong to treat him the way he did.”
John grinned. “He
has quite the champion in you. There’s a fire in your eyes, kind.”
“I don’t like it when people are treated badly. It’s not right.”
“Nee, it’s not. Sometimes we are treated badly, and sometimes it moves us to make change whether we want to or not. But it’s part of what God planned, after all.”
“I know. And we’re supposed to forgive, turn the other cheek.”
“Well, all will be allrecht.” He patted her hand. “It always is no matter what we think at the time. God’s in every situation, not outside of it. Now, what have you brought us today?”
Miriam felt mixed emotions when she left John’s farm a little later. She hadn’t had to avoid Mark, but now she might not get to see him for who knew how long.
Life could schur take some disturbing turns.
“Luke stopped by while you were gone,” her mudder told her when she walked into the kitchen. “I invited him for supper.”
“That’s nice,” she said without much enthusiasm.
Sarah turned from washing green peppers in the sink. “Should I not have done that?”
“Nee, it’s allrecht.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Mark’s gone off to Philadelphia again. John said he got gut news.”
She brought the colander of vegetables to the table, sat, and began to chop them. “A job?”
“Not yet.” Miriam filled the tea kettle, and while the water heated, she told her mudder what John had said. “So I expect it won’t be long before Mark gets his job back.”
“So that is gut news.”
“Ya.” For Mark, not her. Or John. “John’s already thinking that means Mark won’t be staying on at the farm.”
She sat there, chin in hand, elbow propped on the table, watching her mudder core a pepper.
Sarah tilted her head. “Sounds like someone just woke from her nap.
“I can finish those.”
“Danki.” She went upstairs.
Miriam finished coring the peppers, then began chopping an onion. A tear plopped on her hand, then another. Before she knew it, tears were rolling down her cheeks as she indulged in a good cry.
“Why Miriam, what’s wrong?”
She glanced up to see her mudder staring at her as she bounced Katie on her hip.
Mortified, Miriam reached for a paper napkin from the holder on the table. “Onion.”
Sarah settled Katie in her high chair and gave her a cookie, then came to stand beside Miriam’s chair. She touched her shoulder “Are you feeling sad about Mark?”
“It’s wrong of me, I know. Mark loves his job. And he deserves to have his boss apologize for sending him away.” She tried t smile. “John said I was a champion for Mark.”
“I was hoping . . .”
“That I’d become interested in Luke?”
“Ya.”
“He’s well read and we have interesting conversations. But . . .”
“But?”
“He isn’t Mark.”
“Nee, no one is. Or ever will be.”
“So I should look elsewhere. I know.”
The back door opened and her dat walked in, bringing with him a gust of cold wind. He shut the door quickly. “Thought I’d see if there was any coffee on.”
Katie squealed.
“Hi, little one.” He shed his jacket and black felt hat and hung them on a peg.
Sarah rose and poured him a cup of coffee. He sat at the table, sipped his coffee, and smiled when she set a plate of cookies before him.
“Something wrong?” he asked Miriam.
“Onion,” she said at the same time as her mudder.
“I see.” He bit into a cookie, chewed it, and looked thoughtful. “I guess I interrupted girl talk.”
“Now you’re being silly.”
Katie babbled in apparent agreement.
“Luke’s coming to supper,” Miriam said. “He’s Abraham’s cousin from Ohio, here to help him with the farm while Abraham’s arm is healing.”
“That’s gut.”
Miriam glanced at him, trying to read his expression. “It is?”
He nodded and finished his cookie. “Family should help family.”
“Ya.”
“So what are we having for supper?”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Always the same question. What’s for supper?”
“All men are the same,” Sarah said. “Or so I hear from my friends.”
Miriam got two baking pans and set the peppers in them. “Here’s a hint,” she said, tucking her tongue in her cheek. She turned on the oven then got hamburger from the refrigerator to brown it for the stuffing in the peppers.
He finished his coffee and set the mug in the sink. “Well, I’m back to work.” He donned his jacket and hat and left, leaving a gust of cold air as he closed the door.
The stuffed peppers and the scalloped potatoes her mudder had already prepared and set on the counter would warm the kitchen as they baked. Miriam got a basket of apples to peel for a crisp that could go in when the peppers and potatoes came out. It would be done by the time supper was eaten and be gut with some ice cream.
“I’m going upstairs to see why it’s so quiet,” her mudder said. “It’s not always a gut thing when kinner are quiet.”
“True.”
Katie munched happily on a piece of apple while Miriam worked. Her spirits lifted as she peeled the apples and talked to Katie. It was hard to stay moody around such a happy boppli.
She tried not to think about how another marriage season had passed. God schur was taking his time to show her the man He’d set aside for her.
Mark met Lou in the parking lot of the motel where the private investigator had stashed the witness.
“Glad you could drive right in,” Lou said as he extended his hand in welcome.
“I’m glad you found a witness. Now if we can just get him to agree to go to the cops with us.”
Lou knocked on the door, gave his name, and the door opened.
The witness greeted Mark warily but let them in. Jerome Smith was in his late twenties and exuded the kind of tough guy image a short man wore like clothing. The room was dim, but Mark could see his pupils were dilated from fear. Or drugs.
Jerome had grown up in the same neighborhood as Mark’s client, and they knew each other well. They’d gone to school together—often played hooky together—and been gang brothers for a brief time.
Mark’s client had left the gang behind and Jerome was trying to. “Some of the gang members set Maurice up.”
Mark pulled a yellow legal pad out of his briefcase. “How do you know this?”
“Dude, I was having a beer with him and two other guys when they decided to frame Maurice,” he said. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He broke out in a sweat and a nervous tic flickered at the corner of his mouth as he gave Mark the name of the gang member and his possible whereabouts.
“Why didn’t you come forward sooner?”
“Because I happen to want to keep breathing.” Jerome pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. “Besides, it’s my word against theirs. What if I go to the cops with you like Lou here wants me to, and I get arrested, too? They can charge me with being an accessory.”
“I told him you’d go in with him, make sure that doesn’t happen,” Lou spoke up.
“Lou’s right.”
“No charge?”
“None. And we’ll arrange for protection if the police don’t until after the trial.” His savings was going to take a hit if the district attorney didn’t step up for it, but it would be worth it. His professional reputation had suffered from his former client being wrongfully charged.
Jerome finished one cigarette and lit another from the end of the first one. “These are scary dudes, man. You have no idea coming from where you do.”
He’d really have a laugh if he knew where Mark had been a few hours ago. “I’m a criminal defense attorney,” Mark said. “Most of my clients are n
ot choir members.” Fortunately, however, they had been innocent.
“Let me call someone I know on the force.” Mark got out his cell phone and started dialing.
Jerome turned to Lou. “How about some food before we go see the cops? It’s been a long time since dinner. And this place doesn’t have room service.”
“We’ll get you something on the way to the police station,” Mark promised as he waited for the captain to pick up. “As soon as my client’s sprung, I’ll buy you the biggest steak you ever had at the best place in town.”
Jerome lit another cigarette. “Deal.”
Mark talked with the captain who sounded dubious but agreed to meet. He disconnected the call and turned to Lou. “Do you mind riding along? I’ll bring you back for your car.”
“Sure.” He turned to Jerome. “Hand over anything you shouldn’t have on you when we go to the police station. And anything stronger than cigarettes.”
“What about you? I know you have a gun on you. I saw it when your jacket fell open.”
“I have a concealed weapon permit.”
Jerome pulled out a switchblade and handed it to Lou, who took it without blinking and tucked it into his pocket.
Mark started for the door, a little unnerved at how casual both men acted about the knife. He hadn’t thought about Jerome having anything like that on him as he talked.
He’d been naïve.
“Wait a sec,” Lou said. “Let me take a look around before the two of you go out.”
They waited while he checked the parking lot then gave the go-ahead. Mark drove them to the police station, stopping at a fast food drive-through as promised, and giving Maurice’s new attorney a call to let him know about developments.
His old friend sounded like he’d woken up, but he came quickly to attention when Mark told him what had happened.
“That’s incredible news. I’ll meet you at the police station. It’ll take me about twenty minutes.”
“See you there.” Mark disconnected the call.
Captain Thornwell was waiting for them when they arrived. “Well, well, Jerome Smith, you’ve decided to chat with us again.”
Jerome slid a nervous glance at Mark.
Seeds of Hope Page 24