“Morning, Henry.”
“Gudemariye.”
Abe was in his midforties, had dark hair and bushy eyebrows, and always wore glasses. “Bit cold today. We’d hoped to have the service outside, but…”
“Perhaps the house is better.”
“Ya, and we’ll have lunch in the barn. Hopefully, the wind will stop blowing by then, and the youngies can scatter outside.”
Abe hurried off to see if his wife, Susan, needed any last-minute help. The two of them had four children, not a lot by Amish standards. They also provided for Franey, Abe’s sister-in-law, who had been divorced by her husband when he left the Amish faith.
Abe was a minister and therefore a preacher. He’d been hesitant to accept the position, but there was no valid reason for denial, except perhaps poor health. Abe was as fit as a workhorse both at the time of his nomination and now. He’d grown into the position of minister, and Henry greatly appreciated having the man in their community.
Clyde and Leroy were already busy putting hymnals on the benches that had been placed in the sitting room and dining area. When services were held inside, which in Colorado was at least half the year, all of the furniture was removed from the main sitting room. Some members would arrive the day before the service to help stack the furniture, most often in a barn, to make room for the benches that had been delivered in a wagon the week before. It was usually crowded, but they always managed to fit.
“Gudemariye, Henry.” Leroy had recently turned fifty-nine. He was by far the wealthiest member of their group, though you wouldn’t know it by his clothing or buggy. His farm was a bit larger than most, and he had slightly younger horses and a bigger barn.
“And to you, Leroy.”
“Wind’s a blowing, Henry.” Clyde Fisher balanced an armful of hymnals with the word Ausbund stamped across the front. Clyde was the youngest of the three deacons, only forty-one. He had sandy-blond hair and a physique that showed he was a full-time farmer in the prime of his life. “It’s going to blow in all the cranes so you can watch them next week.”
“Sure you won’t go with me?”
“Nein. Watching birds puts me in the mind to hunt, and I know the cranes are protected.”
“Deer season will begin in a few weeks.”
“Moose has already begun.” Clyde combed his fingers through his beard. “Dat always said the deer needed to be harvested. The population has grown so that the land can no longer support them, and watching all of them grow thin and hungry is a travesty. The moose, though? They’re regal and grand, and for the life of me I cannot imagine shooting one.”
Clyde was Emma’s son, and he had the same responsibilities Abe did. George Fisher had also been a deacon, and Clyde had been chosen after his father passed. Clyde stepped into his father’s shoes, and Henry saw God’s hand in that. The two men were very much alike, and the entire family—Emma’s family—had become an integral part of their community as well as Henry’s personal life.
Abe, Clyde, Leroy, and Henry made up the church’s leadership. Leroy didn’t preach. Instead, he handled the collection of offerings as well as disbursements to missions and benevolence. This was a good job for Leroy, as he had a head for numbers as well as practical matters. Leroy was a bit severe, but folks soon learned it was nothing personal, just his way. And he provided a good balance to Abe and Clyde, who tended to look at the human and spiritual side of things but sometimes forgot to consider the practical.
In many communities, deacons shared the responsibility of reminding wayward members of their wrongdoings and explaining any confusion about the Ordnung, their daily rules for living. But Henry preferred to take that last task upon himself.
Henry was the bishop. He supervised the other three and shared preaching duties with Abe and Clyde. He visited families when they welcomed newborns into their household, guided them when they suffered through times of mourning, researched family lines when marriage intentions were announced, and, of course, he called any necessary meetings. He prayed for and with each of them. He led his flock. He had served as a minister for many years in Goshen, Indiana, and when several of their families decided to move to Monte Vista, he’d stepped into the role of bishop, which he enjoyed more than he would have ever guessed.
He liked people.
He was fond of visiting with elders in the community and finding ways for them to continue to contribute. He liked talking with young people, assisting them through the difficult early years of adulthood. It was among his greatest joys to welcome new members into the faith, baptizing them into a life of Christian servitude and preparing them through classes for what lay ahead.
Soon Abe’s home was filled with families. The women sat on one side, the men sat on the other side, and the children clambered back and forth. At the back of the room, Susan and Franey had set up cookies and cups of water. Children sometimes needed a small snack to help them through the three-hour service.
Henry spoke to each family as they came into the home.
He noticed Emma seemed in especially fine spirits. He’d enjoyed their dinner together the night before, and he appreciated her thoughts about Sophia.
Henry gestured toward a back bedroom. Leroy, Clyde, and Abe followed him.
“Abe, would you give the first sermon today?”
“Of course, Henry.”
“And Clyde, I’d like you to preach the second.”
Clyde nodded in agreement as he thumbed through his Bible, looking for a specific passage.
“Leroy, if you will lead the Scripture reading and the singing, I will offer the opening and closing prayers.”
Together they prayed silently, and Henry’s mind called up each family in his congregation. They were a relatively small district, for which he was thankful. Once they reached a number too large to fit in a home for a service, they would have to divide into two districts. He wasn’t quite ready for that, although he knew God would see them through the process when the time came.
As they prayed, his thoughts drifted to Sophia, and he offered up a prayer of protection and provision for her. The woman seemed troubled, and Emma’s reaction had confirmed that he wasn’t imagining something was wrong. He couldn’t begin to guess what she might be dealing with, but God knew, and God would provide.
From the sitting room, Henry could hear the voices of the men and women and children singing the Loblied, their second hymn of praise. It comforted his heart to know this same hymn was being sung in Amish communities everywhere. Though they might differ in other aspects, the tradition of the Loblied was permanently a part of their worship.
Henry cleared his throat, and then he prayed aloud for the upcoming service, for the people under their care, and for God’s provision and blessing.
Ten
For months now, Emma had allowed Henry to take her home after their church meeting. She enjoyed their buggy rides, times when they could relax and talk about both the important and inconsequential. Or even ride in silence. She was learning that Henry was an extremely relaxing person to be around.
She had another reason for accepting a ride with him. Emma adored being part of a large family, but she had also learned to treasure quiet time. By going home before her son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren, she had a little time to herself. Henry usually took her home a couple of hours after lunch, always by four. Clyde, Rachel, and their younger boys usually stayed until dark, and Silas and Katie Ann wouldn’t come home until much later. They’d enjoy a light dinner and time singing with the other youngies. The teenagers would play games, sing, eat, and in general socialize with one another, just like when Emma was a young girl. She had first kissed George at a singing. Six months later, he asked her to be his bride.
“The wind is blowing worse,” she said as a cardboard box skittered across the road.
“And from the north.” Henry glanced at her and smiled. “Your son says this will blow the cranes down just in time for me to watch them next week.”
“The
y’re in our fields. You don’t need to go all the way to the national wildlife refuge.”
“But I enjoy going to the refuge.”
“Apparently.”
“And I’ve already asked Stuart to drive me there.”
“Stuart’s a real help to our community.”
“You should see it, Emma. On your farm, you might see a few cranes—”
“I’ve counted as many as a dozen.”
“At the refuge, there are hundreds, even thousands. It’s a thing of astonishing beauty. A real miracle of Gotte the way the families stay together, and the way they fly in a group, always taking the same path each spring and fall.”
“What day are you going?”
“Thursday. Would you come with me?”
“I’d love to, but I can’t.”
“Saturday?”
“That’s no good either.”
“Next week then, on Thursday. I’ll confirm it with Stuart.”
“It’s a date.”
She was about to ask him whether she should pack a basket of food for the trip when Henry slowed Oreo. The young waitress Emma had met the night before was trudging down the side of the road, bent into the wind, a backpack bouncing up and down as she walked.
“Why would Sophia be out in this weather?” Henry asked.
“I’m not sure, but we can ask.”
Sophia glanced back at them, fear etched across her face.
Emma waved as Henry pulled to a stop.
“Get in the back,” she hollered. “It’s too cold to be walking.”
Sophia looked as if she might argue, but another gust of wind nearly pushed her over. She peered left and then right, as if someone might be watching, and finally nodded in agreement.
“The temperature has certainly dropped,” Henry said. “Weather here in the valley can change on a dime.”
“Thank you,” Sophia murmured as she climbed into the backseat.
Henry called out to his horse, and Emma told her there was a blanket on the floorboard if she’d like to cover up. Henry’s buggy had a small heater in the front, but the backseat could be drafty.
“I’m good,” Sophia said. “Just getting out of the wind helps.”
“Is your car broken, dear?” Emma turned around so she was facing Sophia, who unwound her arms from the backpack and set it on the seat next to her.
“I don’t have one,” Sophia admitted. “Walking hasn’t been a problem until today. You would think winter had arrived early.”
“It’s only a front pushing through,” Henry assured her. “Tomorrow should be sunny and calm, though a tad cooler than last week.”
Emma laughed. “Henry Lapp, do you have a weather radio plugged into your buggy dashboard?”
“Nein. Leroy told me. He stops in at the library whenever he can to read the Englisch weather forecast.”
Emma turned her attention back to Sophia. “Where can we take you?”
“Um…the motel?”
“Monte Vista has three. Do you have one in mind?”
It was plain as day that Henry was teasing, but a look of panic again crossed Sophia’s face. She glanced left and right and finally said, “The one down the road.”
“The Rio Grande. All right.”
But when they reached the parking area, Sophia looked even more lost than when they’d picked her up. “Thank you, both, for the ride.”
She picked up the backpack and hugged it to her chest. Something in that gesture pierced Emma’s heart. What was Sophia struggling with, and how could they help? Why was she walking through the streets of Monte Vista alone? What was she afraid of?
“You’re not really staying here, are you?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because you would have pulled a room key out as we pulled up, and you weren’t sure of the name of the motel when Henry mentioned it.”
Instead of answering, Sophia said, “I’ll be okay. Thank you. Again.”
But Emma knew she couldn’t leave it at that. She wouldn’t sleep a wink thinking of Sophia out on the streets alone.
Sophia was already out of the buggy. Emma turned to Henry and said, “Give us a minute.” Then she climbed out of the buggy too and hurried after the young woman. The wind tugged at her dress and nearly pulled the bonnet off her head. It was gusty for sure. She caught up with Sophia in a breezeway between the motel’s office and its row of rooms.
“Wait, please,” Emma called out, grateful that they were momentarily protected from the wind. “Tell me what’s wrong, Sophia. It’s obvious you’re in some kind of trouble.”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“You need to tell someone. Perhaps we can help.”
“No. It wouldn’t be…It wouldn’t be safe for me to tell you.”
Which sounded a bit dramatic to Emma, but she nodded her head as if she understood. “All right. Well, can you tell me where you’re spending the night?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t have a place.”
“Do you have any money?”
“Some.”
“I’m guessing it’s not enough. I’d be happy to loan you what you need for a room.”
“I don’t need a loan.”
“But you can’t stay here?”
Sophia shook her head.
“Why, Sophia? Why can’t you stay at this motel? I assure you it’s clean and the rates are reasonable. Everyone in Monte Vista says so. There’s even a drive-in movie theater attached to the back, and you can watch and listen to the movies from your room. Not that I’ve stayed here, but I’ve heard people say they enjoyed it.”
“No. I can’t. It’s not safe.”
“Not safe?”
“I’ll think of something.”
Emma suddenly knew what she needed to do. Hadn’t Henry reminded them of their Christian duty when he’d led them in prayer at that morning’s service? Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.
“Come back with me.”
“What?”
“Come back to the buggy. Henry was taking me to my son’s house. We have plenty of room. You can stay with us.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you need a place to stay, and whoever or whatever you’re running from won’t think to look for you there.”
Sophia hesitated, but eventually she turned back toward the buggy.
Emma tucked her arm in the crook of Sophia’s. She wasn’t so much worried that Sophia would change her mind, but she looked for all the world like a lost soul. Perhaps offering the hand of friendship, a bed to sleep in, and even a hot cup of coffee would help set right whatever was wrong with her world.
Eleven
Henry couldn’t have been more surprised at the turn his day had taken. Their church service had gone well, the whole congregation was there for lunch, and everyone seemed cordial. Afterward, the adults stayed in the barn where the wind couldn’t chill them while the youngies played baseball and tag. He’d seen a few of the older teens walking in pairs or groups of four. Everyone appeared to be having a peaceful, restful time.
He’d looked forward to the ride home with Emma.
Now their day had careened off on a helter-skelter course. He was reminded of their days looking for Vernon’s killer, but he pushed that thought away. Whatever this young woman’s troubles were, he couldn’t imagine murder being involved.
When they’d first arrived at Emma’s house, Sophia had walked slowly up the porch steps, and once inside, stood still in the sitting room. She looked around in surprise. Henry tried to see the room as she did. Two rather worn couches formed an L shape and were positioned to face the large potbellied stove. On either side of the stove was a rocking chair. Next to each rocker was a basket holding Emma’s and Rachel’s sewing projects. In front of the couches was a coffee table, where the family spent many evenings playing board games. Henry had joined them
in quite a few hours of Dutch Blitz and checkers. A small bookcase under the front window held board games, books, and copies of the Budget.
Only two things adorned the walls. A simple wall clock, approximately two feet tall and made from cherry wood, was positioned to the right of the front door so it could be seen from the sitting room or the kitchen. Emma’s father had made the clock and had given it to Emma and George on their wedding day. The other item was a framed, handstitched Bible passage—the twenty-third chapter of Psalms.
Sophia stepped closer to it, close enough to read The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. She stood there a moment, seemingly lost in thought, and then she turned and followed Emma into the kitchen. She still didn’t seem quite at ease, but neither did she look as frightened as when they’d first picked her up.
Emma heated the kettle on the gas-powered stove. As they waited for the water to boil, she told Sophia about her family, hoping to put her at ease. She’d made it through all of the grandchildren when the kettle let out a whistle. She jumped up to pour the hot water over bags of herbal tea. “Gut for the nerves,” she murmured, setting a mug in front of Sophia.
Sophia continued to glance around, but she didn’t speak until they were all settled at the kitchen table.
“You have a beautiful home.”
“Danki.”
“I’m not familiar with the Amish lifestyle. Until I came to Monte Vista, I’d never met an Amish person. I don’t know what I was expecting, but your home…Well, it looks like any other.”
“We have no electricity, of course. Which means no television, no electric heat, things like that. It’s a simple life—one we’re dedicated to.”
Sophia nodded as if that made sense. She sipped tentatively from her mug.
“You don’t have to talk about your problems with us, Sophia.” Henry waited until she raised her eyes to meet his. “But we’re here to listen if you’d like to.”
When the Bishop Needs an Alibi Page 4