SG: All right. Thank you for coming in. I’ll be in touch if we have any follow-up questions.
Thirty
Naomi was sitting in her room, copies of the Budget spread out across her bed, when she heard a light tap on her door.
“Come in.”
“Am I bothering you?” Katie Ann popped her head around the edge of the door, but she didn’t come into the room—not yet. She wouldn’t until Naomi said it was okay. They had that kind of friendship, where it was perfectly acceptable to say you didn’t feel like visiting.
“Of course you’re not bothering me.”
So she slipped inside, quietly shut the door, and perched on the edge of Naomi’s bed.
“Whatcha doing here?”
“Just looking at the articles I wrote over the last six months. I guess I’m trying to get an idea for this month, but my mind is having trouble focusing on any one thing.”
“Hard to believe you’ve been a scribe for nearly a year.”
“Six months.”
“Which is a few months short of a year.”
Naomi squirmed backward so that her back was resting against the wall and Katie Ann did the same. She drummed her fingertips against her notebook and asked, “Did you hear about Sheriff Grayson calling in Mahlon and Nathan and Jesse?”
“And Lloyd. Don’t forget Lloyd.”
Naomi tried to freeze her features, but there was no use attempting to keep anything from her best friend. Katie Ann knew her too well.
“What happened now?” Katie Ann asked.
“It was no big deal.”
“Tell me. All of it.”
So she described how she’d been walking along the side of the road, and then Lloyd had practically insisted she get into the buggy with him, and then the awkwardness of the conversation that followed.
“He asked you to move back to Goshen?” Instead of looking alarmed, Katie Ann dissolved into a fit of giggles.
“He didn’t exactly ask. It was more a statement of what he thought I should do and an expectation that I’d jump right to it—which wasn’t funny at all.”
“No, but I can imagine the look on your face, and that must have been funny. You hated living in Goshen. You said it made you feel like a hamster in a cage.”
“It is a bit more crowded than here.”
“So how did Lloyd take it when you told him you weren’t interested?”
“He kind of scowled at me, and then he told me to think about it before I said no.”
“Thinking won’t change how you feel.”
“You and I know that.” She traced the bruise on her left wrist with the tips of her fingers.
“Did he do that to you, Naomi?” Katie Ann’s voice was suddenly serious. “Did Lloyd hurt you?”
“He didn’t mean to. I was about to leave, and he pulled me back into the buggy. I don’t think he knows his own strength.”
“He should. And he should treat a woman with more care. Maybe we should tell your aenti or speak to Henry.”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone about Lloyd Yutzy.”
“Yes, but—”
“He’ll be gone in a few days, and I can forget about him.”
“I guess. In my opinion, he can’t leave too soon. I’m anxious to be rid of him, and I’ve barely spent any time around him at all.”
“Patience is a virtue, right?”
“Maybe. Mammi is always saying things like adopt the pace of nature; her secret is patience.”
Katie Ann began laughing again, and this time Naomi joined her.
It wasn’t very funny, so she didn’t know why she was laughing. It felt good, though, and allowed the tension in her shoulders to ease. Finally, Naomi wiped her eyes and asked, “Do you have any idea what she means?”
“None.” Naomi picked up a copy of the Budget. “Let’s look at these articles and see what you haven’t written about yet.”
They spent the next thirty minutes looking over the previous six months’ issues. As a scribe, Naomi wasn’t paid, but she did receive copies of the publication for free. Also, paper and postage were provided, so sending in her column didn’t cost her anything. She loved writing, and the fact that more than seventeen thousand people read the Budget always inspired her. To think that you could pick it up and know what was going on in Goshen or Sarasota or Lancaster… She’d once seen a letter written by a scribe in Romania.
People wanted to know what was happening in other places, other Amish places, and that was the main reason she wrote—that, and she loved putting together sentences in a clever way, describing a scene so someone who had never visited their valley could imagine it, and writing about people. She enjoyed sharing the unique characteristics of people more than anything else, maybe because she found folks fascinating. But in life she was often somewhat shy. When she was writing, she could hide behind the pen. The best part was that if she said something wrong, or used a word that didn’t quite fit, or left something out, she could always pull out a fresh sheet of paper and start over. The last piece she’d written and mailed in was before Jeremiah’s death—she’d felt young and happy and carefree then. Now it seemed the days were gloomy even when the sun was shining.
She pulled out her last article, and Katie Ann scooted closer so they could read it together.
MONTE VISTA, COLORADO
July 18–Days are warming up in the San Luis Valley.
We experienced heavy rains last week, a real delight here in the valley. Local farmers say the crops are coming along well and expect a good harvest next month.
Susan Graber hosted a sew-in at her place. Attending were Franey Graber, Rachel Fisher, Katie Ann Fisher, Emma Fisher, Nancy Kline, Mary Yoder, and myself. We worked on three quilts for the upcoming school auction–including a center diamond, log cabin, and double wedding ring.
Deborah King’s newborn baby shows no signs of the colic, which her first child suffered from terribly.
The church service on Sunday was well attended, with only Josephine Glick missing, owing to morning sickness.
Leroy Kauffmann hosted the evening hymn singing, which lasted late into the night. We had four visitors. Three cousins of the Grabers traveled all the way from Shipshewana to spend a month in the valley. Jeremiah Schwartz has been visiting all summer. Jeremiah’s from Goshen, but spending a few months with his grandmother, Ruth Schwartz. Jeremiah will ride in the Ski Hi Rodeo later this month. He’s done well competing this season and continues to excel at his favorite event—steer wrestling.
The widows’ bakery, formally known as Bread 2 Go, continues to draw visitors from all over the valley. Franey Graber, Nancy Kline, and Ruth Schwartz say they might need to expand by the end of the summer to keep up with demand. Seems Amish and Englisch alike enjoy a fresh loaf of bread or sweet snack.
It’s a sure sign of summer if the chair gets up when you do (Walter Winchell).
Naomi Miller
“Where did you get this last line?” Katie Ann asked. “It’s clever.”
“From a book the librarian gave me. I was returning a novel your mamm asked me to carry to the library last time I was over.”
“It’s crazy how much she reads.”
“I think it’s sweet. Anyway, the book the librarian gave me was about gardening and summer and such. It’s in perfectly good shape, but she said they had to purge their collections—whatever that means. I like the book, though. It has short quotes and such, and I enjoy ending my pieces on a light note.”
Katie Ann’s fingers traced down the page again. “I like the way you write. It’s conversational. I can imagine you saying these things.”
“No use in using a three-syllable word if a one-syllable word will do.” Katie Ann reached up to adjust her kapp, which had slipped toward the back. “Do you remember hearing that in school?”
“I do. I guess school here in the valley isn’t much different from school in Goshen.”
“Don’t laugh, but I miss it some days.”
“
Me too. Though other days, like when my bruders bring home math homework, I don’t miss it at all.” Katie Ann picked up the paper and studied it more closely.
“What?”
“I was just thinking.”
“Thinking what? You’re going to stare a hole through the paper.”
“This came out a week and a half before the rodeo, before Jeremiah was killed, right?” She pointed to the July 18 date in the top left corner. “What if someone read your article, and… I don’t know… didn’t like the thought of Jeremiah being in the rodeo?”
“So they came here and killed him? That doesn’t sound likely.”
“Nein. You’re right. Guess I’m grasping at straws here.”
“Sounds to me like it has more to do with his gambling, which by the way explains why he was always clearing his phone history. I guess he didn’t want me to know about it. Plus, now I understand why he took so long in the phone shack when I was waiting in the buggy.”
“So you think his killer was someone who owed him money?”
“I think if our boys owed that much—”
“I heard it totaled four thousand dollars.”
“I heard five. But regardless of the amount, if an Amish boy can get in that deep, then think how much an Englischer could have owed.”
“Or been owed.”
“Exactly.”
“What should we do?” Katie Ann folded the newspaper and tossed it back on the bed.
“Nothing. We should stay out of it.”
“Ya. Gut idea.”
“Sheriff Grayson will handle it.”
“I hope so. Now let’s come up with some ideas for what you can write about this month.”
They spent the next hour going over the insignificant happenings in their small community during the last few weeks. That felt good and proper to Naomi. She was tired of thinking about murder and killers and gambling rings. But writing about the goats and sheep that escaped during Jeremiah’s funeral? That brought a smile to her lips, and she was pretty sure that if Jeremiah were still around, he’d be smiling too.
Thirty-One
Henry woke on Friday morning with the overwhelming urge to do something.
It had been a week since Jeremiah’s death, and it didn’t seem to him as if they were any closer to catching the killer. He knew from his experience in Goshen that such investigations usually took months, not weeks—and yet he was impatient to have the situation resolved.
As Henry let Lexi outside, made his breakfast, and watched the sun rise over the valley, he fought the impulse to jump into the investigation. It wasn’t his place to nose around. He wasn’t a sleuth or a detective of any sort. Perhaps he understood a little about human nature, but then what bishop or pastor didn’t? The same could be said for nurses or teachers or waitresses. If you worked with people and you paid attention, you learned some things.
For instance, he knew from the meeting he’d had with Mahlon, Nathan, Jesse, and Lloyd the day before that the boys weren’t being completely honest with him, though they were hardly boys. They were men, and it was important that they learn to act responsibly. He’d called the meeting after Grayson left and caught most of them as they’d come in from the field and before they’d had dinner. They’d done it at Abe’s place, which was central to where the four lived. Apparently, none had been approached by Grayson yet, so he hoped he’d accomplished something good when he reminded them of their responsibility to be honest and help in the investigation.
Still, he was worried.
Sometimes dishonesty wasn’t a matter of telling a lie. Sometimes it was as simple as not volunteering the truth.
He didn’t know Lloyd well, but he’d known Mahlon, Nathan, and Jesse since they were born. They had been good children. Their rumspringa had been marginal at its worst. They were still relatively young and hadn’t been baptized into the church yet, though Mahlon and Jesse had both come to him and announced their intentions to do so.
No, they weren’t the type to be in trouble—hard workers every one of them, which made the gambling all the more surprising. What else were they hiding?
He couldn’t know.
He saw no obvious reason to involve himself further, and yet the itch to do exactly that plagued him.
He knew what that meant. It meant his ego was getting in the way. So instead of jumping up and doing something, Henry fetched his Bible from where he’d left it on the kitchen table, refreshed his coffee, and spent the next hour in prayer and meditation of the Scriptures on the front porch. Henry didn’t consider himself more spiritual than any other man. He made mistakes same as everyone else. The difference was that over the years he’d come to expect to see God’s hand in all things. Guiding a flock could do that to a man, make him sensitive to the voice of the shepherd.
So what was God urging him to do, if indeed this restless feeling was more than frustration?
As he opened his Bible, he prayed God would guide his reading.
The word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.
He could count on the lines he was reading, the Word of God, to judge the thoughts and attitudes of his heart. Encouraged by the words from Hebrews, he turned to Galatians.
Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.
He’d been trying to solve this mystery on his own, but that wasn’t what the Bible admonished him to do. Rather, he was to carry the burdens of others, and they were to carry his.
“That’s it!”
Lexi jumped to attention.
“We’re trying to do it alone again when we should be asking for help.”
Lexi cocked her head to the side as if she were wondering why it took him so long to reach that conclusion.
“Care to go for a walk, girl?”
That was all it took for Lexi to bound off the porch steps. Henry wasn’t absolutely sure about the scope of his beagle’s vocabulary. He’d read that dogs could understand as much as two hundred and fifty words. He didn’t know about that, but he did know she understood the word walk, and the fact that she was waiting at the bottom of the steps, tail wagging and butt wiggling, proved it.
They were at the phone shack within twenty minutes, and three phone calls later he’d scheduled a meeting with his deacons. They might not know what to do either, but they’d pray with him. And at this point, that was something Henry sorely needed.
That afternoon Abe, Leroy, Clyde, and Henry spent the first thirty minutes in prayer, and then Henry stood and poured coffee for everyone. Nancy Kline had brought by a platter of snickerdoodle cookies, so he put that in the middle of the table. Sugar and caffeine were exactly what they needed to solve this thing.
“I don’t mind saying I’m quite upset that Mahlon is involved in this.” Abe frowned into his mug. “I have him doing extra chores and also finding direction from the Scripture, where we’re told to be good stewards of all we have.”
“Nancy mentioned that Nathan’s parents are upset as well,” Henry said.
“And who wouldn’t be?” Leroy stared at his cookie and then stuffed it into his mouth. Once he’d washed it down with coffee, he added, “I’m beside myself about Jesse’s involvement. Never saw it coming. Never suspected a thing.”
“It’s important to remember they are relatively young.” Clyde sat back and crossed his arms.
“Young?” Abe shook his head. “You and I had a wife and child by that age.”
“It does seem as if youngies are waiting a few years longer to marry, to commit to a Plain life,” Henry admitted. “Some say the young adult years are extending nearly to thirty now.”
“Thirty?” Leroy shook his head in disbelief.
“Well, that’s in the Englisch community. Apparently, it’s a mark of the millennial generation.”
“What’s a millennial?” Abe asked.
“Some
one born between 1995 and 2005. Something like that.”
“Sounds like foolishness to me.” Clyde’s smile belied the seriousness of his tone. “A twenty-three-year-old is not a boy. He’s a man.”
“It proves a point, though. The fact that our boys, or rather men, are waiting until twenty-two or twenty-three to begin a family… well, it isn’t such a terrible thing.”
Clyde said, “I would be upset too if Silas were involved. The only reason he wasn’t, I suspect, is that he spends every extra dime courting.”
“Still hasn’t settled down?” Abe asked.
“Nein. If anything, it’s worse. Last week he was out four different nights. I don’t know how he manages to get up at four thirty in the morning, but he does. And as long as he does, I feel I have no reason to reprimand him. Still, it bothers me.”
“I think our gamblers understand the error of their ways,” Henry said, turning the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Knowing that the money won’t be returned to them, even if they did win, should help to change their attitudes about gambling.”
“What happened to the money?” Leroy asked.
“Lloyd says he gave the money from Goshen to Jeremiah. Each of our boys say they paid what they owed, but… ” Henry pulled on his beard. “Grayson mentioned that Jeremiah had less than twenty dollars in his wallet, and Ruth has found nothing at her house.”
“So the money’s missing?” Leroy reached for another cookie, changed his mind, and clutched his coffee mug.
“Apparently.”
“How much are we talking about, Henry?” Clyde stood up, fetched the coffeepot, and refilled their mugs.
“Hard to say exactly. Grayson is thinking close to ten thousand.”
“That’s more money than most of us see in a year.” Leroy shook his head. “I’m still in shock, to tell the truth.”
“It’s a lot of money when you add it all together, but you have to remember it’s not all Amish money. Grayson says more than half of it came from Englischers—people in the rodeo as well as their friends. Jeremiah was running quite an operation, taking bets from both Amish and Englisch.”
Who the Bishop Knows Page 14