The Amish Wonders Collection

by Ruth Reid

  “Will he tell me what happened to Nathan?”

  Mr. Lewiston furrowed his bushy brows. “No, this is only an arraignment. The trial will come later.”

  Mattie lowered her head and stared at the worn spot on the concrete floor. Between the brightness and hum the overhead lights gave off and the stench of sweat, she wanted to vomit. She needed to settle her nerves somehow. Lord, I’m so afraid. Please have mercy.

  “All rise for the honorable Judge Steinway,” the officer in the room announced.

  Mattie stood next to Mr. Lewiston as an elderly man wearing a black robe appeared on the television screen. He stated the date and time, then rattled off a set of numbers assigned to the day’s docket. Her case wasn’t the first to be heard. By the time her name was called, her nerves were such that she only heard mumbling over the blood whooshing in her ears.

  “Martha Irene Diener, you are charged with aggravated assault against a child. How do you plead?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bo stilled himself on Mattie Diener’s porch as heavy footsteps tromped up the steps and stopped behind him.

  “If you’re from the company that wants to drill on our land, we’re nett interested,” the man said.

  Bo turned. “No, sir. I’m here to see Mattie Diener for . . . other reasons.” Perhaps coming to Mattie’s home was a mistake. Bo studied the clean-shaven, fortysomething Amish man who held an axe in his right hand. His sun-scorched skin wrinkled with curiosity.

  “Mattie?” The man’s brows jetted up.

  “I mean Martha—Mrs. Diener.” Bo pointed his thumb over his shoulder, aiming it at the door. “Do you know if she’s home yet?”

  The man eyed him carefully, his brown eyes hard. He evaluated him in the same skeptical way Bo’s father used to.

  “She isn’t here,” he finally said, lowering the axe to the porch deck and leaning its handle against the banister post. “You’ll have to kumm back another time if you’re interested in buying herbs.”

  “Thank you, but I’m here on other business.”

  “As I’ve already said, we’re nett interested in selling our mineral rights.”

  “I understand.” Bo extended his hand toward him. “I’m Bo Lambright. You must be Mrs. Diener’s brother.” Even as he said it, Bo recalled Mattie hadn’t mentioned in her interview that she had relatives nearby.

  The man hesitated, then reached for Bo’s hand and shook it. “Alvin Graber.”

  On further inspection, they had no family resemblance. Mattie’s button nose was small, her eyes blue, and cheekbones high. This man’s nose was long and thin at the bridge, making his dark-brown eyes appear tiny and closely set.

  “Do you know when you expect Mrs. Diener? I have some news to share regarding her daughter.”

  Alvin’s eyes lit with surprise. “Is something wrong with her daughter?”

  Bo glanced at the dark house, void of activity. The man probably didn’t know Mattie had been arrested yesterday, which was odd given the closeness in Amish communities. “Could you tell me where Ben and Grace Eicher live?”

  Alvin stood a little straighter. “What kind of news?”

  Bo had already said too much. “I think I’d better wait to speak with Mrs. Diener.” Bo stepped off the porch and headed to his car. He’d passed an Amish farmstead a half mile up the road. Ben and Grace had mentioned they were Mattie’s neighbors. Maybe the farm belonged to the Eichers. Bo climbed into his sedan. As he turned the ignition key, he glanced over at Alvin, who snatched the axe handle from its resting spot on the porch and swung it onto his shoulder.

  Bo clearly recalled the answer Mattie had given him during the interview regarding the frequency of male overnight guests. He could still hear the irritation in her voice when she responded, “Never!” But she never did answer the question about male visitors.

  Yet Alvin Graber had spoken jointly about not wishing to sell the mineral rights when he thought Bo was a representative from the drilling company. He wasn’t wearing a beard, which made him an unmarried man in the Amish settlement.

  “Our” land. “We’re” not interested.

  Just what was Mattie’s relationship with Alvin?

  Bo shifted the car into reverse and slowly backed out of the driveway. The road dipped, and the underside of the car rubbed against rocks as he made his way to the next Amish farm. Bo cut the engine and climbed out of his car. Small braided rugs stretched across the clothesline, weighing down the line so the rugs nearly touched the green lawn. He knocked on the door and waited.

  A gray-haired woman appeared behind the screened door. “May I help you?”

  “I was hoping this was Ben and Grace Eicher’s place,” he said.

  “This is. I’m Grace’s aenti Erma. But she isn’t home.” The woman stepped out of the house and went to the porch banister. Holding the handrail, she rose to her toes and looked toward the barn. “I thought Ben might still be mending fences.”

  “Do you know when Mrs. Eicher will be back?”

  Erma shook her head. “She went into town to see about a friend.”

  “Mattie Diener?”

  Surprise registered on Erma’s face. “How did you—” Her hand flew up in a flutter. “Never mind. I don’t need to involve myself. I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Bo Lambright.” He removed one of his business cards from his pocket and handed it to Erma. “Would you give this to your niece, please?”

  Erma glanced at the card. “Lambright,” she repeated softly. The sound of gravel crunching caught her attention. “Here is Grace nau.”

  Bo studied the buggy, anxious to see if Mattie would also climb out. Her arraignment would have been sometime before noon, depending on the judge. She wasn’t a flight risk, so her bond, if any, would be low. Grace climbed out of the buggy. Alone. She tied the horse to the post, then, dragging her left foot slightly with each step, lumbered across the yard.

  Erma met Grace at the edge of the porch. “Were you able to find out anything about Mattie?”

  “They wouldn’t let me see her, but I found out her bail was set. Fifty thousand.”

  Fifty thousand! Had the court changed the allegations from possible abuse to . . . manslaughter? Bile rose to the back of his throat.

  Grace pinned Bo with a glare. “Are you here to gather more information about Mattie, Mr. Lambright?”

  He swallowed hard. “Not exactly.” He glanced at Erma standing next to him. Her lips were tense, drawn into a straight line. “I’m here to pick up a few items for Amanda, if that would be possible.”

  Grace ambled up the steps. “Where are you keeping Amanda?”

  He shook his head sympathetically. “I’m not at liberty to disclose that information. But she’s in a good home and she’s safe.” Granted, she’s not eating and she needs her family, but that’s more than you need to know.

  “She has a gut home. Here. In our settlement,” Grace said.

  Bo lowered his head.

  “Little children need their family, Mr. Lambright.”

  He nodded without lifting his eyes. “I’m sure something will be worked out soon.”

  “I don’t understand why you had to take her away in the first place. When can I see her?”

  Her question held the typical family member frustration and concern. Bo wished he had better news, but he would be surprised if he heard any updates while he was on administrative leave. “At this time”—he cleared his throat—“I’m not sure when that will happen. It’s up to the judge.” And Nathan’s condition.

  Grace blinked back tears, then sniffled and looked away. Erma moved closer to him, her eyes also glazed with tears. “You mentioned needing to pick up some things for Amanda.”

  “Yes, clothes, please, and if she has a doll or pillow she’s fond of, I’ll make sure she gets it. The home where she’s staying will provide her with clothes, but I thought she would be more comfortable in her own dresses. Anything we can do to make the transition easier would . . .”
He stared at the weathered planks, worn smooth from use.

  “She shouldn’t have to transition into the world,” Grace said. “We’ve done our best to separate ourselves from it. Amanda’s an innocent child. She shouldn’t be forced to leave our community.”

  Bo swallowed hard. “I understand your frustration.”

  “Do you?” Grace crossed her arms. “Mattie Diener is a gut mother.”

  Erma placed her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “I’ll stay with Mr. Lambright while you go to Mattie’s haus and gather a few of Amanda’s things.”

  Grace stared at him a half second, then with a gentle nudge from Erma, she turned and left.

  Erma gestured to the wooden bench at the far end of the porch. “If you would like to sit, I’m sure she won’t be long.”

  “Thank you.” Bo ventured over to the seat and sat between the two large clay flowerpots adorning the sunny side of the porch. His gaze traveled over the lush green lawn and from one outbuilding to the next. He missed living in the country, the scent of cattle. He drew a deep breath, expanding his lungs with warm air. This was June, but the heat index made it feel more like August. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. He removed the hankie from his pocket and blotted his moist forehead. “Sure is a hot summer,” he said.

  “Jah.” Erma looked toward the cloudless sky. “We could use some rain.”

  An image from Bo’s childhood flashed before him. Barefoot, hair matted in sweat under his straw hat, and the noonday sun beating down on his face as he walked behind the team of mules. He could almost taste the field dust caking his tongue and clogging his lungs.

  “Mr. Lambright,” Erma said, dabbing a cloth across her forehead. “What’s going to happen to Mattie?”

  “Depends.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs, and clasped his hands. “A lot depends on whether her son recovers.”

  “She would never hurt one of her children. Everyone in the settlement will vouch for her character.”

  Bo nodded without looking Erma in the eye. He didn’t expect for a minute anyone would say anything negative about one of their own. But experience had taught him that it was rare for another member to look behind closed doors, and when they did, they seldom questioned what they saw.

  “I think what’s happening to Mattie has something to do with those drillers who want to take our land.”

  Bo shook his head. “It doesn’t.”

  “We’re nett wealthy people. We can’t pool our money together and kumm up with fifty thousand dollars. They want us to sell our rights in order to free Mattie.”

  “No. The two are unrelated. The reason she’s being held has nothing to do with selling mineral rights.” Granted, the bail was high. “Really. It’s two separate issues.”

  Grace’s buggy pulled into the yard with another one behind her. As Bo stood, even more buggies came into view. In a matter of minutes, a cluster of men swarmed. A frail, gray-bearded man ambled forward aided by the man Bo had seen earlier at Mattie’s house.

  “I’m Bishop Yoder,” the elder one said. His voice was much stronger than his wobbly legs appeared to be. “We would like to know why Mattie Diener was falsely accused, and we want to know what happened to her children.”

  Ben wove through the crowd and stopped beside Grace. It would have been easier to talk with Ben alone than have to address this lynch mob. Bo held on to the banister. “There isn’t much I can tell you.” He had a duty to uphold the confidentiality laws regarding the minor, besides the fact that Mattie had the right to some privacy. Even from her own people. The pack moved closer. He had to say something.

  “The Diener children have been placed in social services’ custody pending additional investigation. I can assure you that her son is getting the best care possible and her daughter is being well provided for.”

  The men grumbled amongst themselves. Then the bishop quieted the crowd by raising his hand. “What purpose do you have here, Mr.”—he looked at the card—“Lambright? Is this part of the investigation?”

  Bo shook his head. “Nothing official.” He glanced over his shoulder at Erma, then to where Grace and Ben were standing on the lawn. “I thought Amanda would feel more comfortable in her own clothes.” He shrugged. “But she can wear the clothes the Englischer provided, if you’re okay with that.”

  Grace came forward with a brown paper bag. “I collected a few dresses and aprons of Amanda’s,” she told the bishop. “She probably would feel more comfortable.” The bishop muttered something under his breath to her, and Grace approached the first step of the porch, her fingers fumbling nervously with the paper bag. “I’d like to go with you, Mr. Lambright. Amanda isn’t able to dress herself, and our style of dress and apron can be complicated to put on.”

  “I’m sorry. It isn’t allowed.”

  Bishop Yoder cleared his throat, and Grace handed Bo the bag of belongings.

  “The hospital refuses to let any of us visit Nathan,” the bishop said. “Why is that?”

  “The last update I received, Nathan was in critical condition. I’m sure the doctor is keeping him sedated. He wouldn’t be aware of visitors or even his surroundings.” Or, for that matter, his mother missing from his bedside.

  “And Mattie?” the man standing next to the bishop asked.

  Bo gripped the banister tighter. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Grace whispered something to Ben, then Ben spoke up. “Can you get the bail lowered?”

  Not without a miracle. He resorted to a scripted reply. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I’ve never asked you to intervene in a case before.” Bo paced his mother’s office. “But I need your help.” He ran his fingers through his hair. He’d told himself when he started working as a county social worker that he would never seek special treatment for one of his clients. Amanda Diener was different. She needed her mother.

  Agnes Nettleton folded the newspaper she’d been reading, placed it on the desk, and removed her glasses. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Mattie Diener, the Amish woman I was called to investigate, is in jail. She’s been charged with child abuse.” He prayed that was her only charge. The hospital wouldn’t release any information on Nathan’s condition when he called. “I want Judge Steinway to reverse the bail order posted and release her on her own recognizance. Fifty thousand dollars seems a bit excessive considering she doesn’t have a criminal history and she’s well rooted in the community. Mattie isn’t a flight risk.”

  “She can file an appeal for reduction. Who’s her attorney?”

  “I don’t know who took the case. Whoever the court appointed, I suppose.”

  “It wouldn’t be difficult to find out whose name is on the record. If you arrange to have a motion for appeal filed, I can talk to Willard and have the amount reduced, if nothing else.”

  “How long would that take?”

  “Depends on how quickly you can get her lawyer to submit the motion for appeal.” She shrugged. “A day or two once the file is moved to the top of the pile.”

  His shoulders sagged. “Can you make arrangements for Mattie to see her children? She should be granted visiting time.”

  She studied him a moment, nibbling on the end of her reading glasses. “Are you doing this because she’s Amish?”

  “Yes—no. I don’t know.” He walked to the window overlooking Lake Superior and pulled back the curtain. The stormy deep-blue water was marked with whitecaps. Waves lapped the pebbly shore, leaving behind a foamy residue. Any other case he would want the judge to leave the defendant locked up—separated from the minors. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t let this one go. He swallowed the golf-ball-size lump growing in his throat. “The little girl,” he choked back. “She only speaks Pennsylvania Deitsch. When I checked on her, she was withdrawn, not eating, and . . . not adjusting.”

  “Do you need to consider relocating her to another foster care home?”

  “I need emergency vi
siting rights established.”

  “I see.”

  Bo turned away from the window. “And I need the title for my boat.”

  Mattie halted midstep at the sight of Bo Lambright seated in the police station waiting room. She was told her bail had been posted, but she assumed Grace or the bishop had scraped the money together.

  Bo stood and met her across the room. His eyes locked on hers. “How are you?”

  If she answered him honestly, she would fall to pieces. Her throat burned and tears threatened to spill over her lids. Mattie averted her gaze. Even doing so, she could still feel his eyes on her, taking in her rumpled dress and her disheveled prayer kapp.

  “Were you treated . . . all right?”

  His voice was soft—comforting in an odd sort of way. Yet she still didn’t care to answer. She wasn’t treated all right. Only minutes ago she was wearing an orange jumpsuit.

  “I spoke with your lawyer,” he said. “Your court date is postponed until—”

  “Until they know if I’ll be prosecuted for the death of . . .” She blinked several times, stunned by her own words. Mattie drew in a hitched breath.

  “We don’t need to talk about that here.” He offered an apologetic smile. “Let’s get you home.”

  She picked at her nails. “The officer said mei bail was posted. Was that you?”

  “I pulled some strings . . . reeled in an anchor,” he muttered, then flashed a friendly grin. “You’re not going to skip town, are you?”

  His nervous laugh might have brought a smile to her face under different circumstances, but after spending more than twenty-four hours behind bars, she wasn’t feeling amused. “No, Mr. Lambright, I don’t plan to skip town. I want to see mei children.”

  His expression sobered. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Blood stilled in Mattie’s veins. Bo Lambright cupped his hand over her elbow and steered her away from a staggering man in the police station lobby who was about to plow into her. She didn’t like this place. The scent, a mixture of sweat, vomit, and a cleaning agent that didn’t quite mask the foul odor, left her feeling nauseous.