by Amy Lillard
“Maybe he’ll be okay,” Kappy reassured her. And she hoped it was true.
That was the thing about Jimmy. He was as sweet as they came, but things could set him off. Kappy wasn’t sure why some things bothered him more than others. Like why he wouldn’t eat red foods. Ever since his mother died, things had been a little harder for him, but he was trying for Edie’s sake. Kappy was just glad that Edie had decided to stay in Blue Sky, allowing Jimmy to do the same.
But despite Jimmy’s usually positive and amicable attitude, Kappy could tell that Edie was concerned. Amicable. That was another one from her word-a-day calendar. It meant friendly, and that was one word that fit Jimmy Peachey for sure.
A thoughtful silence fell between them as they continued toward Mose Peachey’s bait shop.
“Oh, no.” The car started to slow as Edie whispered the words.
“What?” Kappy glanced at the dashboard as if somehow she could determine the problem, but Edie wasn’t staring at the car’s gauges, she was looking ahead, at the bait shop’s graveled parking lot.
Jimmy was out front, pacing back and forth, shaking his head. He held the fob on the alert necklace he wore in case of emergencies. Even from this distance, Kappy could tell that his face was creased with a frown of worry.
Edie pulled the car into the lot, a little too quickly as far as Kappy was concerned, but she knew that Edie wanted to get to her brother as soon as possible. Her friend might be a little flighty, but Kappy knew she loved Jimmy above all else.
Edie shoved the gearshift into park and hopped out of the car with it still running. “Jimmy. Hey, Jimmy.”
He stopped pacing and lifted his head, pinning his sister with a hard gray stare. “Where have you been?”
“There was an accident on the highway. Are you ready to go home?”
“Accident?” His gaze swung wildly around as if making sure everything in their corner of the world was still intact.
“Yeah, of course.” Edie’s tone was offhanded. She was trying to downplay the emotions and get Jimmy into the car without a meltdown. Whether she would be successful or not still remained to be seen.
Jimmy held up the fob. “Do you know how many times I almost pushed this button? This one right here. Do you know?”
“You didn’t push it, though, right?”
“Five times.” He held up his fingers to emphasize his point.
“But you didn’t?” Edie asked again.
“When Mamm . . . when Mamm . . . you told me that I should have pushed it. Today I thought I would have to push it.” Tears welled in his eyes, but whatever anger he had drained from him. “You worried me.”
Edie reached for him, then remembering he didn’t like to be touched, she lowered her hands to her sides. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
“I thought you were . . . I almost pushed the button five times.”
“I know. But I’m here now. Are you ready to go home?”
He looked from his sister to where Kappy waited in the car. “Now?”
Edie smiled with apparent relief. “Yes. Now.”
Jimmy nodded. “Jah. Okay.” He started toward the car, then stopped and captured the alert fob in his grasp once again. “But next time you’re late, I’m pushing it. How else is anyone going to know if something happens to you?”
Chapter 2
They were halfway home the long way before Edie finally convinced Jimmy that he should only push the button in case of emergencies, and her being late picking him up from work did not an emergency make.
They drove around the back side of the valley on the road closest to Jacks Mountain and came around the opposite side of the area. Driving the long way may have taken them around the scene of the accident that happened earlier in the day, but it still took twice as long to get home. Everyone else was trying to avoid the main road as well, it seemed. When they passed Jay Glick’s house, Kappy couldn’t help but stare. Not all that long ago, chickens once pecked around the yard and cows mooed from the barn. Now the house was devoid of life.
“Is that . . . ?” Edie peered over the steering wheel as she pulled into Kappy’s drive.
“What?” Kappy half expected to see Elmer on the front porch—even though she had put him out back—with some poor animal in his jaws. That was the one thing she hadn’t anticipated when she got a beagle. They were hunting dogs, a fact that came home with every “present” he brought her. But it wasn’t Elmer on the front porch. It was Martha Peachey.
No one in the valley knew exactly how old Martha was. Kappy wouldn’t even hazard a guess, but Martha had been old as long as Kappy had known her.
“What’s she doing here?” Edie asked.
“She’s sitting on the porch,” Jimmy said helpfully.
Kappy shot Edie a look. “How am I supposed to know?”
Edie stopped the car and shifted the gear into park. “Go ask.”
Kappy would have liked to refuse, but the woman was on her porch.
Martha pushed herself to her feet, leaning heavily on her cane as she waited for Kappy to get out of the car.
“Kathryn King,” she called. “I thought you were done running around all over the place in a car.” Only Martha Peachey called Kappy by her given name.
“Hi, Martha. It’s good to see you, too,” Kappy murmured as she shut the car door and made her way to the porch. She was only half aware that Edie had gotten out of the car and was following behind her.
“What brings you out today, Martha? Need a new kapp?”
Martha pointed the tip of her cane toward Kappy as she climbed the steps. “I will. Going to be a funeral soon.” She shook her head sadly as Kappy tried to find the words to ask whose funeral that might be. But she thought she knew. Bad news traveled fast.
“That accident on the highway,” she said. “Jonah Esh?” The thought was heartbreaking. Jonah hadn’t even started his baptism classes or joined the church and just like that his life was gone. Kappy knew it was all part of the Good Lord’s plan, but she couldn’t say knowing that made her understand it any better.
But Martha shook her head. “Sally June.”
Kappy blinked and cast a quick glance at Edie. The only Sally June she knew was Sally June Esh, Jonah’s sister. And if she was having a funeral . . . then that could only mean . . . “Jonah wasn’t driving the pickle delivery today?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Martha shook her head. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, but you aren’t listening. Sally June was in that buggy crash.”
“And she’s . . . dead?” Kappy asked.
“That’s a shame,” Edie said. Though Kappy figured the two had never met. Sally June was nineteen or so and couldn’t have been more than nine or ten when Edie had left.
“A tragedy,” Kappy agreed.
“It’s the Lord’s will.” Martha gave a stern nod as if her statement settled it all.
And though both Kappy and Edie had been raised to accept God’s will for what it was, Kappy couldn’t help but wonder why God would will something so heartbreaking to happen.
“Now about that new kapp,” Martha started.
Kappy sighed. “Come around back, and I’ll get you set up.”
* * *
A rustling noise sounded outside shortly after noon the next day. Kappy checked to make sure Elmer was still close. He lifted his head, his ears falling back as he pointed his nose into the air. He sniffed, then laid his head back down as if declaring that nothing was amiss.
He was starting to get used to the fact that people came and went as they pleased, letting themselves in Kappy’s basement to pick up special orders, pre-made kapps, and bonnets for travel. The first couple of weeks he’d barked his head off, but lately he’d come to expect the noises of her customers.
And there had been a lot of them. Just this morning she had lost count of the people stopping in to buy a new kapp. At the rate this was going, she would have to replenish before the end of the week. Sally June Esh’s funeral
was Friday and Kappy could be completely out of stock by then.
A knock sounded at the front door and Kappy jumped, startled by the change.
“People never learn,” she muttered to no one, maybe Elmer. Then louder, “Around back. Down the basement.”
The knock sounded again.
Elmer hopped up and trotted to the front door. He dropped his rear to the floor and stuck his nose in the air as he let out the perfect beagle howl.
On the other side of the door, a voice sounded, but Kappy couldn’t make out the words over Elmer’s baying.
“Who is it? Elmer, hush!” But the dog kept on. Kappy scooped his wriggling form into her arms and flung open the door, preparing to tell whoever it was that she sold kapps around back and in the basement only. It was good to have boundaries. But Edie stood on the other side of the threshold.
“Why didn’t you answer the door?” she asked, barging inside.
“Hi, Edie. It’s good to see you, too.”
Edie whirled around and shot her an apologetic grin. “I wish the Amish were allowed to have phones,” she mused, one hand propped on her hip. “It would make this so much easier.”
“This?” Kappy shut the door and turned to face her friend.
Elmer, having decided that Edie was no immediate threat, circled her and tugged on the legs of her skin-tight black pants. To Kappy they looked more like winter tights than a garment to be worn by itself. The only difference she could see was the bright green whip-stitching that snaked up each leg at the outside seam.
“Quit it.” Edie shook her pant leg out of his mouth and made her way toward the kitchen. “This.” She held out her phone even as she plopped down into one of the kitchen chairs.
“Hold it still,” Kappy fussed, grasping her hand to steady it. Unsuccessful, she sat down across from Edie with a shake of her head. “What is it?”
“A text.”
“From?”
“That’s the thing.” Edie threw up her hands. “I don’t know.”
Kappy shook her head. “Start at the beginning.”
“Okay.” Edie took a deep breath. “I got a text this morning, and I don’t know who it’s from.”
“Jah.”
“It says—” Edie thumbed her phone and sucked in another gulp of air. “Some accidents aren’t accidents.”
Kappy waited for her to continue, but Edie just stared at her with eyes wide. “That’s it?”
“Don’t you see? They’re talking about the buggy wreck yesterday.”
Kappy shook her head. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, it was an accident, wasn’t it? And somebody died. What if it wasn’t an accident?”
Kappy closed one eye as if that could bring Edie’s argument into focus. “I don’t understand. Was it an accident or not?”
“Exactly.” Edie sat back triumphantly in her seat, a self-satisfied grin spreading across her face.
Kappy frowned.
“Don’t you see?” Edie leaned forward again and propped her elbows on the table. “We call those things accidents, but what if it was an ‘on purpose’?”
“And someone tried to kill Sally June?”
“Yes!”
A pang of unease thumped in Kappy’s midsection. “But why? Why would someone want to do that?”
“Why does any human do the things they do?” Edie shrugged.
“Have you shown that to the police?”
“Of course not. It’s not like I have any proof. Just a theory.”
“A crazy theory,” Kappy grumbled. She had almost let herself get caught up in Edie’s dramatic ways once again.
“It might be a little crazy, but it’s also very possible.”
“Again, who would want to kill Sally June Esh?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a rival pickle maker?”
“Now that is crazy. Why would anyone kill another over pickles?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
Kappy shook her head, starting to feel a little dizzy from all this. “You’re talking about Amish folks here.”
“Maybe,” Edie conceded. “Or maybe not. I read in the paper today that the police are looking for the driver of a dark-colored car. I don’t know many Amish who drive cars of any color.”
Kappy frowned, trying to understand it all. “You’re saying that a rival, Englisch pickle maker ran Sally June Esh off the road?”
“It’s possible.” She sniffed. “But when you say it like that it doesn’t seem as likely. I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”
“How?” Kappy was certain she would regret asking.
“Friday’s the funeral. I say we go and see who shows up.”
There were so many problems with that idea that Kappy didn’t know where to begin. “Last time I checked, you were shunned, and I wasn’t invited.” Nor would she be. She might make the kapps for the entire valley, but she somehow always remained just on the fringes of the community.
“I’ll dress in my old Amish clothes, and we crash it.”
Amish funerals were as big as Amish weddings, and like weddings, they required an invitation to attend.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Edie said. “But there will be so many people there, no one will notice if we sneak in.”
“And what will this prove?”
Edie flicked an expressive hand in Kappy’s general direction. “They’re always talking on the TV shows about how murderers return to the scene of the crime.”
“You’re talking about the funeral, though.”
“Same thing. Chances are the murderer—”
“If there even is one.”
“—will attend the funeral out of guilt.”
“You think the Eshes will invite them?”
“I’m thinking they’re Englisch and won’t know the rules of funerals. They’ll show up and be easy to spot. All we have to do is find them once they get there.”
* * *
Kappy wasn’t sure, but this could be the dumbest thing she had ever done. In her entire life.
She flicked the reins over the horse’s rump and tried not to feel like every eye was on them. Beside her, Edie pulled on her apron and frowned.
“I never thought I would be dressed like this again.” She messed with her prayer kapp, obviously uncomfortable.
“This was your idea.”
Edie shifted again. “Don’t remind me.”
Kappy hid her smile and pulled into the lane that led to the Esh farm. A line of buggies was already parked down one side in front of the pasture, and the horses milled around, accustomed to being turned out in strange fields.
Kappy and Edie had purposefully waited until it was a little late before heading out. Kappy thought it best that they arrive after everyone else. The more people who were already at the service, the less chance they had of being noticed.
They were just late enough that most of the buggy parkers had already gone in. Kappy unhooked her mare, June Bug, and turned her out into the pasture before any of the helpers left could come over to assist her. The less interaction they had, the better.
“Did you see that?” Kappy nodded toward a line of cars and trucks parked off to one side.
“Mennonites?”
“Probably. But are we going to be able to tell them from the Englischers?”
Edie shot her a look. “Yeah, I believe so.” She nodded toward a woman with a handkerchief covering.
But not all of the non-Amish there were Mennonites. Kappy spotted several Englischers in the crowd. “How are we supposed to know if any of them are guilty?”
Edie shrugged. “They’ll be acting nervous and stuff.”
Kappy scanned the crowd. No one looked particularly nervous or frightened. Most just looked sad. A group of Sally June’s friends stood clustered together, the girls wiping their eyes as the boys shifted uncomfortably. Kappy hadn’t been particularly active in her youth group, but she knew most Amish teens were. These bonds grew strong during the run
around years. Even as adults the members got together on a regular basis, eating, laughing, and playing games. Sally June would be missed.
“I don’t see anyone who looks like they might have kil—hurt her.”
Edie shook her head. “It could be anyone here,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.
Kappy looked around again. Mr. Roberts from the supermarket was among the Englischers there. But she couldn’t believe that he could be guilty of harming another human being. Mild-mannered. That was the only way to describe him. Jimmy was more capable of violence than Mr. Roberts.
“Was Jimmy upset that he had to work today?” Kappy gave a quick nod to Mose Peachey. Jimmy had gone into work even though it was one of his days off so that Mose could attend the funeral.
Edie shook her head. “He likes the money. He says he’s saving for a skateboard.”
Kappy drew back, her attention swinging from Mose to Edie. “A what? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“I didn’t say I was going to let him have one. Only that he was saving for it.”
“You should stop that dream before he gets his hopes up.”
“I don’t know.” Edie gave an offhand shrug. “Maybe it’ll be good for him.”
“They’re dangerous,” Kappy repeated while Edie just smiled. “At least make him save for a helmet, too.”
“And I’ll be sure to tell him it was your idea.”
“Not funny.” Kappy looked around the crowd again. Nothing seemed out of place, just a bunch of solemn-faced funeral goers who looked as though they would rather be anywhere but there.
Englisch, Mennonite, Amish . . . all seemed equally upset. No one seemed jumpy or like they didn’t belong.
“Maybe that text wasn’t supposed to go to you,” Kappy mused.
“I’ve thought about that. And I think it was. After all, who else here has a cell phone and could look into this?”
That was true. “Does it show the number?” Kappy asked, trying her best to remember all she knew about the phones. “If it shows the number, then you could call it right back.”