“What other issues?”
“That is no concern of yours, Randall. Let’s just say that if Augusta St. Clair gets into the middle of this mix, there will literally be hell to pay.”
“I understand.”
“On another note, does Augusta have any inkling of your, ah, divided loyalties?”
“At this point, no. But we’ll have to play the game carefully, for my sake, if not for yours. You may have access to a lot more money than she does, but she is equally ruthless as you and your friends. If she thought you were doing an end-run around her schemes, she’d become a formidable foe. And I would find myself caught in the middle. A very delicate situation, as you can see.”
“Just play it straight with us, Randall, and make sure that we get all the information before Augusta. If you do, you will be handsomely rewarded, I assure you.”
“That’s the second time I’ve been promised a big reward today. Things are looking up.”
There was a click and the line went dead. Duvigney stared at the receiver in his hand.
Enjoy it while it lasts, Randall.
Chapter Six
Daniel’s Heart
Daniel King stood on the high knoll behind his father’s house. It was just before dawn on an early April morning. Far away to the east, a dark row of trees marked the horizon. Long, smooth clouds drifted through the slowly brightening sky. A golden glow began to grow around the tops of the trees, and as it did, the billows above were touched with a beautiful orange that faded into a dusky pink as it reached toward heaven. Above it all, the deep indigo of the dying night held time fixed in perfect suspension.
It was that mystical moment, just before the day begins, when all nature holds its breath, as though waiting for an unheard command from on high. Then the tiniest sliver of sun peeked over the eastern hills, and the world exhaled. A small breeze stirred and Daniel felt the soft brush of nature’s breath against his face. A familiar peace flooded over him. His heart was filled with a deep sense of connection to the land, and especially to this place.
The light gathered itself into golden shafts that pierced the cobalt depths and the green fields of Paradise, materialized below him, reaching away to the east. One by one, Daniel began to pick out the Amish farms that surrounded Jonas King’s property. Off to the right was the Beachey place with the finest milk cows in Lancaster County. Up the road, nestled in a thick stand of Chestnut trees were the Masts, and beyond them, the Nissleys and the Ottos. The three families were all related—carpenters and woodworkers that produced wonderful handcrafted furniture.
Down the hill to his left he could see the potato fields of the Glick farm, and beyond that, the Keim’s first hay cutting was a bright patch of green that prophesied good feed for the King horses this year. Daniel could almost see the names on the mailboxes that lined Leacock Road: Umble, Troyer, Swartzendruber, Raber, Petershwim, Shetler, Stoltzfus, Yoder, and Zook. Each name held a story, not only for Daniel, but also for the Amish community that had lived and prospered here since 1720.
Daniel’s eyes turned to the blue farmhouse a half-mile away. It was the old Borntraeger place, now the Hershberger farm. It, too, was part of the long continuum of Daniel’s people in Pennsylvania, for Jenny Hershberger was a Borntraeger, and her story was a great illustration to Daniel of how der kluge und liebende Gott had kept his hand on the Plain people of Lancaster County and held them to their inheritance.
In a way, we are like the people of Israel, who have an inheritance forever in their land. Gott promised it to them and He always keeps His promise.
Daniel sighed and kicked at a large stone that was half-buried in the dirt. After a few nudges, the stone broke loose and rolled away down the hill. Daniel watched as it bounced into the small creek that meandered along the base of the knoll.
That stone is Rachel. She wants to go rolling away, and she will. She will fall into the river of the world and be swept away and leave this place. And she will never know the peace that is here, all around us.
A small, black buggy rolled along Leacock toward the Old Philadelphia Turnpike. Daniel could not make out the driver’s face, but he didn’t have to, for he knew that buggy well. A big, white gelding with a flowing mane pulled it.
It’s Tuesday and Andy Peterswhim is on his way to the market for his mother.
As Daniel watched the buggy disappear around the tree-shadowed bend in the road, he took comfort in the symmetry of his life. The seasons came and went, the crops were planted and then harvested, the people were born, they lived, and they died. It was all part of a mysterious cycle that set his people apart, a cycle that only an uncluttered heart could see. It was timeless, stretching away into the past and moving forward into the future, like a great river that is always changing, filling its banks, ever-moving, catching the sun with a million different diamond-sparkle facets of its surface and yet somehow, to the casual observer, always the same, always there. For Daniel, that was the secret of the Plain Way. It was always there, appearing to be fixed, yet when each day started, it was always a new journey, without any missteps to mar the way. If a man was accountable for his actions, to himself and to others, and spazieren gegangen im Licht des Gottes, if he walked in the light of God, there was much grace for living and everything that happened seemed to work together for the good.
With a deep sigh, Daniel turned and started down the hill. The path through the small woods was as familiar to him as the walls of his room. He had been coming to the top of the knoll since he was a small child and it was, for him, a castle keep where he could take refuge from the pressures of the world and sort out his thoughts. Many times when they were small children, he and Rachel had come here to play. But then Rachel had moved away, and it seemed as though a great piece of Daniel’s life went with her. And later, when she returned and began to blossom into womanhood, the dictates of the Ordnung had separated them even more, and Daniel had to content himself with watching Rachel grow lovelier each day from afar.
He stopped and picked up a broken-off branch that had fallen from the huge buckeye tree that stood a little below the crest of the ridge. There had been a storm a week ago and the ancient chestnut had shed many small branches and limbs, and yet it still stood, strong and defiant, unmoved from the place it had been growing for over one hundred years. To Daniel, it was a symbol of all that was permanent in his life. It was under that tree that he and Rachel had pledged to be friends forever when they were only six years old. He began to absentmindedly whisk the trail in front of him with the branch as he walked, and as he did, the old yearning rose inside. Rachel! Rachel!
Sie leben immer in meinem Herzen...always in my heart!
He struck the stick against a small bay tree as he walked past, and the branch broke in his hand. His heart sank as he tried to come to grips with his feelings for the girl. She was an enigma to him. Daughter of an Außenseiter father and a half-Amish mother, Rachel had not lived the normal life of an Amish girl. When Rachel was seven her father, Jonathan, disappeared at sea. Everyone thought he was dead, and Rachel and her mother, Jenny, went to Ohio to live. They were gone almost three years, and then suddenly one day, Rachel was back at the farm. But she was no longer the carefree child that had been Daniel’s playmate. Word filtered back to Paradise about the tragic events that had taken the lives of Jenny’s parents, and Daniel began to understand the deep sadness that wrapped Rachel like a winter coat.
Daniel tried to reestablish their friendship, but Rachel was standoffish and quiet. Once, Daniel asked her whether she still liked him. She would not answer him, but Daniel knew somehow that Rachel was afraid of getting close to anyone. And then when her father had literally come back from the dead, Rachel grew even more distant. Jonathan had been an amnesia victim for almost eight years and he still struggled with physical issues that made him unstable emotionally, and the volatility played havoc with his relationship with Rachel.
With nowhere else to place the blame for her circumstances, Rachel had come to
blame being Amish as the root of all her sorrow and confusion. Now she looked elsewhere for her joy, and Daniel could see it in her eyes when he was with her. Even when things seemed normal between them, it was as though she was looking through him, past the everyday of life in Paradise, to a place that Daniel could hardly even comprehend. When she began talking about going away to school, his heart ached. And yet Daniel could see the gift in her, a gift of healing and caring, and he knew that it was something that Gott had placed within her. So Daniel’s heart was torn—torn between wanting to be close to Rachel again and letting her go to fulfill her dream, if that would make her happy.
“Daniel! Daniel! Stop moping around and give me a hand here. Wir vergeuden Tageslicht. Time’s a wasting!”
Daniel’s reverie was broken as he came down the path and into the farmyard. His daed came out of the barn, leading the great black stallion that was the pride of the King farm. The smile in his eyes belied the gruff tone of his remark.
“Ja, Papa, ich komme.”
Daniel stopped by the well pump. He hung his black hat on a nail on the barn wall and levered the red handle. A stream of icy spring water poured out, and he filled his hands with it and splashed his face. He brushed his hair back with both hands and put his hat back on. Then he quickly walked to his papa who handed him the halter rope. Black Dancer put his face down, and Daniel stroked the smooth skin around Dancer’s nostrils, then scratched behind the silky ears. The horse pushed his nose against Daniel’s overall pocket.
“Looking for something, Dancer?”
Daniel pulled the apple out of his pocket and the horse nickered and took it from him in one bite.
Jonas King smiled at his son. “Ja, with you he acts like a pig, not a horse.”
“He’s a good boy, Papa.”
The two Kings admired the beautiful animal for another moment. Jonas put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “You look troubled, my son. What is it? Rachel?”
“Yes, Papa. I am worried for her. She does not have peace in her heart. I see it in her eyes.”
“Is it her trouble with Jonathan?”
“That’s part of it, Papa, but there’s more. Rachel is different. All these things that have happened to her have changed her. She does not see the world out there as we do. Instead, she sees it as a refuge, a place where she might escape from the hurt and the pain she has found in Paradise. Sometimes when I’m with her and she says something to me, it is from such a different point of view that it’s almost as though she was never Amish. She takes no joy in the simple things. She is always looking away, out there somewhere. It troubles me.”
The two men walked toward the pasture together with the horse following them. Black Dancer pushed his nose against Daniel’s back, cadging for another apple. The early-morning sun warmed the air and Daniel’s papa sighed and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wiped his face and then spoke again.
“Daniel, perhaps you need to let this girl go her own way. You are Amish to the heart of you. I know how you love this land and the ways of our people. Rachel will never be happy here, I think, and if you were ever to marry her, she would bring you unhappiness, too. You should look for a good, plain Amish girl who will be content to make a home for you and give you children. Hettie Troyer has made it very clear that she would welcome courtship from you. And there are others—beautiful, simple girls who love our ways as much as you do. “
Daniel walked beside his father silently. There was wisdom in his daed’s words but no joy. He remembered how good Rachel had been with their mare.
If only she could see that everything she really wants is right here in Paradise.
“If only I could make Rachel see, Papa. She has a gift and she would be of great benefit to our people if she would just stay here.”
“Ja, mein Sohn, Sie sind richtig...you are right. Rachel would be an excellent veterinarian. But I am afraid she has many crossroads before her, choices she must make, before she can even see clearly enough to make the right decision about the rest of her life. I am thinking that, for you, it is best to forget her and go on with your own life.”
Daniel’s heart felt like a great hand was squeezing it, and he couldn’t breathe. He stopped and looked at his father. “But isn’t there a way, Papa? There must be a way!”
Daniel’s papa stopped and looked at his son. “I think that you love this girl more than you have told me, Daniel.”
Daniel looked back and then slowly nodded his head. His papa sighed.
“Then, the only thing you can do is to bathe this girl in prayer. If she is das Mädchen, das Gott für Sie geplant hat, then you must trust Him to work His will and way in her heart. Nonetheless, I am afraid there is much sorrow in all this for you, and it troubles me. But I will pray with you and for you...and for Rachel.”
“Danki, Papa.”
But at that moment, Daniel knew only two things. He knew that Rachel was the girl God had for him. And he couldn’t see how prayer would change anything.
Chapter Seven
Closing In
Sammy Bender looked through the crack in his door. The man in the hallway was medium height and powerfully built, with a sharp, hawk-like face set off by a short crew cut and black turtleneck under a brown, houndstooth wool jacket. The tan slacks were sharply pressed, and the black brogans bore a high-luster shine, military in its perfection.
“Whaddaya want?”
The hawk-faced man glanced down at a small notebook in his hand, checked the number on the apartment door, and smiled. Somehow the smile made Sammy shiver.
“Sammy Bender?”
“Yeah.”
“Formerly of Sing Sing Correctional Facility?”
“I done my time...”
“Brother of one...”—the man glanced down at the notebook—“Joseph Bender?”
Sammy didn’t like the turn of the conversation. “Say, what are you, a cop? I’m clean, see. I visit my PO every month, and I don’t cause no trouble.”
Sammy started to close the door, but the man put his shoe in the opening, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a crisp, one-hundred dollar bill. He held it close to the crack.
“I have no interest in you, personally, Mr. Bender, or your brother. I only need some small pieces of information that you might be carrying in that drug-addled brain of yours. So if you let me in, perhaps I can help you in your determined desire to escape the cares of this dreadful world.”
Sammy closed the door, released the chain latch, reached out, grabbed the money, and started to close the door. It was the wrong move, because the next thing he knew, he was up against the wall in the hallway with a small but deadly-looking revolver pressed painfully against his face and a steel grip on his arm.
“Not a good way to begin a relationship, Sammy.”
Sammy Bender slumped his shoulders in defeat. The man kept his grip while he put the gun back in the shoulder holster where it had resided so invisibly, and then he pushed Sammy down the hall.
When they got into the front room, the man pointed to the ragged, cigarette-burned stuffed chair by the window. “Sit down, Sammy.”
Sammy Bender sat. “Okay, I’m sitting. Are you going to shoot me?”
“Why would I want to do that? Then I wouldn’t be able to find out what I need to know.” He glanced around and smiled the same joyless smile. “Besides, it would make an awful mess in this otherwise elegant sitting room.”
A ray of hope splintered the darkness in Sammy’s brain. “So, what do you want, and how do you know about Joe?”
“How I know about Joe is my business, and that’s not what I’m here for anyway. I need to know about the woman and the little girl.”
“The woman? What woman?”
“The woman, Rachel St. Clair, and the little girl, her daughter, that lived with you for a while back in the fifties.”
“Oh, Rachel...” Sammy paused, thinking back. “That’s a long time ago, man. I ain’t seen Rachel since I seen Joe. And Joe’s dead.”
“Dead?” The man reached for his notebook. “How did that happen?”
“I think he died in a car crash out in Ohio. The cop told me all about it.”
“The cop?”
“Well, he was actually a sheriff from someplace by Akron— Woozer or Weiser, I don’t know.”
“Wooster?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Wooster.”
“And what exactly did he tell you about Joe?”
“When Joe and I robbed the bank, Joe drove the car. I got caught inside the bank and went to prison. Joe split. The sheriff who visited me told me Joe died in a wreck in Ohio. He had a little girl with him. The girl was Rachel’s daughter, Jenny. The sheriff was looking for Rachel. That’s all I know.”
The hawk-faced man pulled the hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket and snapped it flat between his hands. He laid it on the coffee table in front of Sammy and then he pulled out two more and laid them beside the first in a perfectly even row. “I need more, Sammy.”
Sammy looked at the money, and a hunger began to grow in his belly. “Okay, Rachel’s dead, too.”
“And how do you know that?”
“The sheriff went to my mom’s house in Patterson. They got a tip from her that Rachel had overdosed in Stroudsburg. When they were at her place, there was an Amish guy and a hippie and a girl with the sheriff—a real human ‘Incredible Journey’ or sumpthin’.”
Sammy cackled at his joke and spittle flew out of the hole where his front teeth used to be. He went on, looking at the money while he spoke. “The girl was Jenny.”
That got the hawk-faced man’s attention. “So, you’re telling me that Jenny is still alive?”
“Yeah, she was at my mom’s house.”
The man reached down and pushed one of the bills over to Sammy. “More, Sammy.”
The Amish Heiress (The Paradise Chronicles Book 1) Page 5