Love Rekindled

by Serena B. Miller

  “Carfentanil?” she said. “I thought that fentanyl was the big threat these days.”

  “Yeah?” The coroner looked washed-out and wearier than the last time she’d seen him. “Well, we’re starting to think of heroin and fentanyl use as something that happened in the good old days. Carfentanil is an animal tranquilizer about a hundred times more powerful than fentanyl. It’s used on big animals like elephants. The druggies like to mix it with meth. Sometimes they do a lousy job of doing so. If you haven’t heard of it yet, I envy you.”

  “I don’t think it has hit Sugarcreek yet,” she said.

  “Just wait,” the coroner said. “It will happen in Sugarcreek too. It probably already has.”

  Not on my watch, Rachel silently vowed.

  “Lily.” Tony was apparently uninterested and unimpressed with their topic of conversation. “I’m supposed to identify her.”

  The coroner opened the door to the refrigerated trailer. The space was limited. The smell of death was inside. As Kim, Tony, and she followed the coroner in, Tony didn’t flinch. The bodyguard, or whatever he was, started to go inside, hesitated, changed his mind and stayed out.

  “This is the Jane Doe we got from the car wreck in Sugarcreek,” the coroner lifted a sheet, revealing only the face. “I finished the autopsy last night. My assistant dropped off the details at the police station a little while ago.”

  Tony stared silently at the young woman who was lying on what looked like one of multiple macabre metal bunk beds lining the walls. Rachel gave an involuntary shiver. Not from the cold. It was from the overwhelming sadness she felt over the county having to bring in a disaster trailer because of yet another new drug.

  Tony seemed unaffected as he studied the woman’s disfigured face.

  “That’s Lily,” Tony’s voice was steadier than Rachel expected. “Now what?”

  Good question, Rachel thought. Now what, indeed?

  “I need to ask you a few questions,” Rachel said.

  “You can use my office,” the coroner said. “I have some paperwork you need to sign.”

  The office the coroner took them to was small. The coroner sat down behind his piled-up desk and waited. She and Tony sat in the only two other chairs available. Tony’s bodyguard stood on one side of the door, and Kim stood vigil on the other.

  “So tell me what you know about Lily?” Rachel said.

  “I found her on the street,” Tony said. “She’d just gotten off a bus. Wandering around like she didn’t know what to do. I took her home. Told her she could stay awhile.”

  She noticed that Tony sat completely still. That was highly unusual. Most people fidgeted even under the best circumstances. If they were being interrogated, they fidgeted even more so. Picking at lint on their clothing. Snapping or unsnapping a coat. Crossing their legs and uncrossing them. Running their fingers back through their hair. She’d interrogated one teenager who had chewed on her long ponytail the entire time.

  Not Tony. He sat loosely in the chair, feet on the floor, hands unclasped. It wasn’t as though he was relaxed. Instead, he reminded her of a watchful animal, muscles tense, ready to spring or run away at any moment.

  “You have any idea what her last name was?”

  “She said it was Smith. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t.”

  “She ever talk about her folks?”

  “No.”

  “Not at all?”

  “Not at all. Never talked about her past. I didn’t want to hear it, anyway.”

  “You don’t seem like a man who has the time to go around rescuing strays. Why’d you take her in?” Rachel asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Kinda reminded me of my kid sister. Sarah used to be as clueless as Lily.”

  “How long did Lily stay with you?”

  “About three years.”

  “And she was your girlfriend all that time?”

  “She lived there, but she wasn’t my girlfriend. At least, not all the time. I have a lot of girlfriends.”

  “Do they all stay with you?”

  “No. I make them go home. With Lily it was different.”

  “Different how?”

  “She could cook. Real food. Healthy stuff. Vegetables. None of that garbage everybody else lives on. She kept things clean. Didn’t talk much. Didn’t bother me if I didn’t want to be bothered.”

  “How did you feel about her pregnancy?”

  “I didn’t want a kid,” Tony frowned. “I wanted her to take care of things as soon as she told me, but she wouldn’t. Said it was wrong.”

  “So, you didn’t want the baby?” Rachel kept her voice steady, but her heart began to beat harder. If she could get Tony to sign away parental rights…

  “Nah, I got too many responsibilities as it is.”

  Rachel refrained from asking him what kind of responsibilities he had. She was pretty sure she already knew. Running a gang must be quite a full-time job.

  “Did you know she’d stolen Mabel’s car?”

  “No.”

  “Where did you think she’d gone when she disappeared?”

  “How should I know?” He shrugged. “I had a party to go to that night. When I got back, the door to her room was closed. I didn’t even know she was gone until yesterday.”

  “She had her own room?” Rachel asked.

  “Yeah. It was real small, so I let her have it. Made it easier for me if she wasn’t under foot all the time.”

  “Just to be clear,” Rachel said. “Mabel told you that the baby survived?”

  “Yeah, she told me I have a kid.”

  “You mentioned not wanting the baby because of all your responsibilities.” Rachel was careful to keep her voice even. “There are a lot of people who’d be happy to adopt her. You’d have to formally give up parental rights, first. Are you willing to do that?”

  He mulled it over. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  Before she could say anything else, Tony stood up. “We done here?”

  “Someone needs to take responsibility for the body.” The coroner, who had been waiting for Rachel to finish her questioning, was anxious to get on with things.

  Rachel saw a flicker of what looked like a shred of decency in Tony’s eyes as he debated what to do. “How much will it cost to bury her?”

  “Just a burial?” the coroner asked. “No funeral?”

  “Yeah,” Tony said. “No funeral.”

  “Probably under three thousand.”

  “Here.” Tony pulled out a wad of cash. He peeled off thirty hundred-dollar bills and handed them to the coroner. “Take care of it.”

  “You don’t want any kind of service?”

  “Why would I?” Tony shrugged. “She’s dead ain’t she?”

  As they started to leave the coroner’s office, the big man who had come with Tony seemed to wake up. He pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to the coroner.

  “Get her some flowers,” he said. “Lily liked flowers.”

  Chapter 29

  “I want a shower,” Kim said, as Rachel drove back to Sugarcreek. “Then I’m going to burn all my clothes. Then I’ll take another shower. Then I need a nap. Then one more shower… and I might start to feel normal again.”

  “First time at the morgue?” Rachel asked.

  “Yes.” Kim gave a shudder.

  “It isn’t easy for anyone,” Rachel said. “But you did well. I’m grateful you were there. Thanks for having my back.”

  “You’re welcome.” Kim sounded pleased. They had come a long way since Kim’s first days on the force when she had been little more than a major irritation to Rachel. “I’m glad I was able to help.”

  She dropped Kim off at her house then, just like Kim would be doing soon, she went straight home and took a long shower. She might not actually reek of the smell from the trailer, but it seemed like she did.

  As soon as she had dried her hair and put on fresh clothes, she went straight to the Sugar Haus Inn. The visit w
as purely selfish and restorative on her part. She needed to spend time basking in Bertha’s wisdom and strength and she was craving something sweet from Lydia’s kitchen. Whenever she needed the world to feel like a safer, saner place, she went to visit her Amish aunts.

  When she walked in, all three aunts were engrossed in a one-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle spread out on the kitchen table. It was a scene involving a barn, blue morning glories, a birdhouse, and a farm wagon. No people, of course. Even with their jigsaw puzzles, they avoided pictures of faces.

  “I’m a good jigsaw puzzle doer,” Anna informed her as she came through the door. Anna had several random puzzle pieces in front of her and was fitting them together. Whether they actually fit or not was not of great importance to Anna.

  “So, what’s been going on in your Englisch world?” Bertha was collecting all the blue pieces since she was intent on completing the flowers. “Have you found the baby’s relatives yet?”

  Rachel told them about her visit to Mabel and to the coroner’s office.

  “That Tony person didn’t even ask to see his baby?” Bertha asked.

  “Not yet.” Rachel found a corner piece and completed the frame.

  “So, you didn’t have to tell him who has the baby?” Lydia was in the process of cornering the market on all the red barn pieces. Rachel noticed that Lydia was also soaking her feet in a pan of water beneath the table.

  “No. He didn’t seem to be interested, so I didn’t offer,” she said. “I didn’t tell him the specifics. I didn’t want to accidentally make trouble for Keturah’s family.”

  “Do you really think he’ll sign away his paternity rights?” Bertha asked.

  “I think there is a chance.”

  “Ah hah!” Bertha crowed, as she found the right spot for one of her blue puzzle pieces. “Another one! I’m gaining on you, Lydia!”

  “Imagine,” Lydia said, wistfully. “Someone not wanting that sweet little baby.”

  “So, what happens if he does give up his rights?” Bertha asked. “What happens to the baby then?”

  “I suppose she will become available for adoption.”

  “Oh, Rachel!” Lydia gasped. “Do you suppose…?”

  “I know what you’re thinking, but there are so many other families on waiting lists for babies. Joe and I wouldn’t stand a chance. Especially since we already have Bobby.”

  “Where is Bobby?” Bertha asked. “Public school isn’t back in session yet, is it?”

  “He’s with Joe and Darren,” Rachel said. “Probably taste-testing the breakfast menu they are trying to put together.”

  “The restaurant is doing well then?” Lydia asked.

  “Joe says we’re actually turning a profit,” Rachel said, proudly. “That’s unusual for a new restaurant.”

  “Ach!” Bertha’s voice held a gentle reprimand. “Pride is a dangerous thing.”

  “You’re right,” Rachel said. “Let me put it a different way. We have been blessed by God against all expectations.”

  “Good.” Bertha nodded. “That is okay then.”

  “Do you have anything sweet to eat, Lydia?” Rachel asked. “Cookies? Leftover pies?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Lydia said. “It is all I can do to keep up with the orders I’m getting from the restaurant. Darren was just here and picked up another dozen pies. My feet are sore from standing.”

  It was the first time in Rachel’s life that Lydia did not have some sort of bakery item to offer when she came by. It was quite a shock. It also reminded her of the news Darren had given them the night before about the TV chef.

  “Did Darren tell you about Chef Burkshire?”

  “That television person who wants to come and film Lydia making pies?” Bertha sounded disgusted.

  “That’s the one.”

  “Lydia does not wish to do such a thing,” Bertha said. “It would create much strife within the church if she did.”

  “It’s only pie-making,” Rachel pointed out.

  “The people who make the show will make fun of this old Amish woman who bakes her pies in a wood stove, and who rides in a horse and buggy, and who wears funny clothing,” Bertha argued. “I have heard stories. We cannot trust Englisch TV. Some of our people have learned this the hard way. The people they trusted made our ways look foolish.”

  “I can’t argue with that, Bertha,” Rachel said. “But I imagine Darren was disappointed when you turned him down.”

  “A little disappointment will not kill him,” Bertha said. “Darren has many big ideas. Too many, I think.”

  She noticed that Lydia had not said a word.

  “How do you feel about this, Lydia?” Rachel asked.

  “I would not mind if this TV person wanted to take a picture of my hands as I make a pie,” Lydia said, in a quiet voice. “Maybe Englisch people need to learn how to make a pie. I don’t think that would be wrong or prideful, do you?”

  Rachel noticed the sharp look that Bertha gave her younger sister. She had a feeling that those two were going to have a long, hard talk after she left, which would probably end in Bertha convincing Lydia that having the television people in her home was a mistake.

  “Can I pour some more hot water into your footbath before I go, Lydia? I need to go check in at the station. Ed’s going to want to know how things went.”

  “I would not mind if you warmed it up a little,” Lydia said. “The tea kettle on the back of the stove should be hot again by now.”

  Rachel carefully added the steaming water to Lydia’s foot bath before leaving. It was the first time she’d ever known Lydia to complain of foot trouble.

  Chapter 30

  “How did things go?” Ed asked, as he entered the tiny police station. He was studying a couple sheets of paper that he held in his hands.

  “Next time you get to go do the morgue run,” she said.

  “I know it’s not your favorite part of the job,” Ed said. “I’ll do it next time. What is your opinion of Tony Maddox?”

  “He gives me the creeps,” she said.

  “What is it about him that gives you the creeps,” Ed asked, still studying the paper.

  “His stillness. It’s unnatural. He reminds me of a cat watching a mouse. Ready to spring, but not moving a muscle until he decides to pounce.”

  “And you felt like the mouse?”

  “Little bit.”

  “Autopsy report.” Ed handed her the papers. “You aren’t going to like it.”

  She skimmed the words. It said that Lily had been repeatedly battered.

  Rachel closed her eyes against a wave of sadness and anger that washed over her. “So that is what she was running away from when she stole Mabel’s car.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look closer. The breaks are old. They are probably the reason she was a runaway when Tony found her.”

  “But her last words to Keturah was not to let him have her baby. She was afraid that he would hurt her.”

  “She was afraid that someone would hurt her. Maybe it was Tony, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was someone from her past; a relative, maybe. Perhaps that’s why she was so secretive about where she came from. Maybe Tony is the lesser of evils. So far, we’re still working in the dark.”

  Visions of that sweet, vulnerable infant rose in her mind. She wanted to protect the baby girl, but how? And from whom?

  “I need to go see the Hochstetlers and let them know what’s been happening,” Rachel said. “My friend, Sally, from social services, said its okay for the baby to continue to stay with Keturah and Agnes for now until we find out more about the baby’s family situation.”

  When Rachel arrived at the Hochstetlers, she found Keturah holding little Holly while also keeping an eye on Agnes’s two-month-old Rosie, asleep on a blanket on the floor. Agnes was slicing bread and cheese for a platter of sandwiches that she was building.

  “Do you want a sandwich?” Agnes asked, holding the knife rea
dy to slice more.

  “Actually, yes,” Rachel said. “If you have enough.”

  “Are you suggesting that an Amish woman might not have enough food to feed a guest?” Agnes laughed. “You know us better than that.”

  “In that case, I would really appreciate one.” Rachel smiled. “They look delicious.”

  “Have you brought news?” Keturah asked.

  “I found the baby’s father.”

  “And?” Agnes stood still and taunt. “Is he coming for her?”

  “Not yet,” Rachel said. “He identified Lily’s body, but he didn’t seem terribly upset by her death, or all that interested in the fact that he had a child. Do you mind caring for her a few more days while I try to get this sorted out?”

  “Of course not.” The Amish women spoke in unison.

  Ivan and Noah burst through the door at that moment, followed by Aaron and Benjamin, bringing a swirl of cold wind with them. As soon as the door was closed, they began the process of stamping snow-covered boots, unwrapping coats, scarfs, and taking off gloves. A few pieces of hay from their clothing scattered onto the floor. As they came into the house, Ivan and Noah were finishing up their conversation about a certain cow that they thought might be developing mastitis.

  Neither Keturah nor Agnes chastised them. Men bringing snow and hay into a house was not an issue to a dairy farmer’s wife. It was part of a normal day’s work.

  “Supper is almost ready.” Agnes lifted the lid off a pot on the stove, stirred and tasted. Benjamin came over to his mother and peeked into the kettle.

  “Bist du hungrig?” Agnes said.

  “Ja,” Benjamin said, rubbing his stomach.

  “Clara!” Agnes called up the stairs. “Bitte komm und hif mir beim Tischdecken!”

  The four-year-old came clattering down the stairs and began setting the table.

  “Aaron,” Agnes said. “Lasse das Wasser.”

  The little boy began filling water glasses at the sink and placing them on the table.

  Ivan and Noah greeted Rachel, then poured themselves cups of coffee from the enamelware coffeepot simmering on the back of the woodstove, sat down at one corner of the table, and continued their conversation. This time about the merits of planting a different kind of field corn for their cows the coming spring.