“What happened? Did someone hurt you?” I leaned forward in my chair.
She shook her head. “Nee. At least not in the way that you mean. I am hurt because my family . . .” She trailed off.
“Your family what?” I prompted.
“My family doesn’t believe in me, in who I am. If they cannot do that, I can’t stay with them.” She stared at me with her large blue eyes. “I was hoping I could stay here.”
I shifted back in my chair away from her. “I . . .”
“It wouldn’t be forever.” She folded her small hands on the table. “It would just be until I figure out what I want to do or what I should do.”
I broke off a big piece of fudge and shoved it into my mouth. It seemed like the best idea, and the moments it took for me to chew and swallow the ginormous piece gave me time to think. I swallowed finally, and my throat felt raw.
“I know it’s a lot to ask of you. I know you are in the candy-making contest and . . .”
“There’s nowhere else you can go?” I asked.
Her face fell.
I reached across the table and patted her hand. “I’m not saying no. I only wondered if there was someone else you could stay with whom you know better,” I said quickly.
“I know Clara well.”
I reached across the table and patted her folded hands. “I know. Of course, you can stay here. We are cousins, aren’t we?”
Her face broke into a smile. “We are. Danki, Bailey. You won’t even know I’m here.”
“My grandmother will be pleased.”
She frowned. “I don’t want to cause Clara any trouble.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Maami wanted me to help you.”
“She was from my district.” She dropped her hands to her lap. “They will disapprove.”
“I know; she told me that, but she hasn’t been part of your district for a lifetime. I seriously doubt she cares what they think of her at this point.”
Her face cleared, but just as quickly it clouded over again. “I wish I didn’t care.”
“Charlotte, do you say your family doesn’t believe in you because of your aunt’s death?”
“Nee. It has been like this for a long time. It just took what happened to my aunt today to show me that they will never change and to show me that I don’t want to change either.”
“Can you tell me what happened?” I asked.
She studied my face. “You were there.”
“I was, but I want to hear your side of the story. You know something, don’t you? That’s why you are here, isn’t it?”
“It is.” She picked up her bonnet, stared at it for a moment, and placed it back on the table. “And you are right. I do know things.”
I pulled my plate of fudge within easy reach. Something told me I was going to need it. I broke off a small piece.
She moved her black bonnet from the tabletop to the lap of her plain navy dress. “I don’t even know where to begin. Everything has become so jumbled in my head. I have tried to pray for clarity. I have asked Gott to tell me what is the right path, what I should do, but I get only silence in return. Perhaps He has abandoned me.”
I shook my head. “My grandparents taught me that their God will never abandon them.”
“It is their Gott, not yours?”
The piece of fudge I was chewing seemed to become lodged in my throat. “I don’t know yet.” I swallowed again, forcing the fudge down. “Why don’t you start by telling me why you left home?”
She looked up at me. “That might be the most complicated question of all. I’ve been planning on leaving for a long time, but I’ve been afraid. Have you ever been in a situation when you knew the right thing to do, but you’ve been too afraid to act?”
Several memories rushed into my mind. The most prominent was how long it had taken me to break up with Eric. That decision was still fresh and still held a sting. I had known for months that I needed to break up with him, but fear had stopped me. Fear of being alone. Fear of how he would react. I never feared that he would hurt me physically, but Eric had the power to ruin my chocolatier career in New York. He was that well connected. I hoped that he would be a grown-up and not be vindictive after the breakup, but I wasn’t sure, which was just more proof that I needed to get out. You should know how a person will react to something after being together for a year. Thankfully, a tabloid had saved me the trouble of making the decision. Bad press ended our relationship; there was nothing Eric hated more than bad press.
I smiled at her. “More than once.”
She took a breath. “What happened today, what I found today, finally gave me the courage to do it. I know that must sound terrible because I’m telling you that another person’s death, another person’s murder, gave me the courage to leave the only life I have ever known, especially when . . .” Her voice caught.
“Because it was your aunt who died.”
She nodded, and a large tear rolled down her round cheek. “Yes, because my family believes it is my fault she’s dead. When they said that, I knew there was no way I could put off leaving any longer.”
I stared at the piece of fudge I was about to pop into my mouth and dropped it on the plate. “They think you killed her?”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand.” She clenched the rim of her bonnet. “My family doesn’t think I killed my aunt. They don’t think I gave her the licorice to eat, but they do blame me for her death. My father said that my disobedience to Gott led to her death.”
I blinked at her. “How is that even possible?”
“Because my aunt would never have been at the church if I hadn’t been there playing. Don’t you see? It comes back to being my fault. She was there to take me home.”
I shook my head. “I would have thought she was there because of the ACC.”
“I suppose that could be true, but my being there was what brought her into the church. She had no other reason to go inside.”
“You can’t know that,” I said. “It’s very possible no one will know why Josephine went inside the church this morning.”
“What other reason could she have for being there?” she asked.
Nutmeg jumped onto my lap and curled up. I dug my fingers into his soft fur. “Do you think you were doing the wrong thing by playing the organ?” I asked. “Do you agree with your family?”
“My deacon believes that I was. My district and my family believe I was too.”
“I’m not asking what your deacon believes or your district or your family. I’m asking you what you believe. Do you think that you did something wrong by playing music?”
She was quiet for a long moment. “How can music be against Gott? I have asked the deacon this so many times.”
“What does he say?”
“That we should not use instruments to improve the sound of Gotte’s world. That is the Englisch way to want to improve things, not the Amish way. We should be happy with the way Gott created things and not look for ways to improve something that is already perfect from the start.”
“The Amish never improve anything?” I asked. “What about farming, building, and quilting?” I pointed at the piece of fudge on my plate. “What about making new recipes that are better than the last?”
“That’s different,” she said. “We don’t spend time on anything that is impractical, and music, I suppose, is impractical. It brings joy but is not something that we must have to survive, like food or shelter.”
I nodded at the fudge on the table. “My grandfather perfected his fudge recipe. Wouldn’t you say that was impractical?”
“But it is food,” she countered.
I shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s unnecessary food. You can eat much healthier things than fudge, things like vegetables, bread, and fruit. Wouldn’t his time have been better spent on more practical things?”
“But it was his livelihood. This candy shop supports your family. That makes it different.”
“Doesn’t
music support some families?” I continued to play devil’s advocate.
“I don’t know. I suppose it does for some, but not for me.” She placed her hand to her temple. “When I play, I feel happy, and I can share my happiness with those who hear me.”
I pointed at the plate in front me. “My fudge gives happiness to the person who is eating it. It’s really the same thing when you think about it.”
She nodded. “Yes, I suppose this is true.”
“Can’t happiness be enough of a reason to create something?” I asked.
“I—I don’t know. I’ve never given myself the chance to think about all these things. My church and family teach me what to think.”
“That’s the real reason you are here, isn’t it?” I asked. “You need to think this all through for yourself.”
She looked me in the eye for the first time and nodded.
Chapter 21
Early the next morning, I reached out for my phone where I always leave it on the nightstand, and my hand connected painfully with the hardwood floor. It was a jarring reminder that I wasn’t in my one-room apartment in New York any longer, but in Harvest, Ohio, and sleeping on the floor of my grandmother’s guest room.
After our chat in the candy shop, I had given up my bed to Charlotte, hoping the tortured girl would get a good night’s sleep. I knew she needed the rest much more than I did, but I was regretting that decision now as my muscles groaned in discomfort.
I waved my hand in the air to fight the stinging of my hand, which for the moment was worse than the soreness in my back. I knew that would shift as the day went on.
Slowly, I sat up, and a wave of vertigo washed over me. I’d had one too many pieces of fudge yesterday to compensate for the stress of the day.
I wished that I had my cell phone in hand so that I could check my messages, but I’d left the phone downstairs charging in the kitchen, as I did every night since I’d moved in with my grandmother. In my grandmother’s Amish district, the Amish were allowed to use electricity for their businesses only, not for their homes,
If I was going to stay in Harvest permanently, I knew I needed to find my own place in town, preferably with electricity, but I’d worry about that later.
I sat up and tucked that worry away to ponder at another time. I had enough to be concerned about now with the ACC, a runaway Amish girl who was bunking with me, and possibly being framed for murder.
I chewed on my lip. No matter how much I liked her or how much my grandmother wanted to help her, I couldn’t rule out the possibility that the person who’d framed me was Charlotte. The licorice extract had disappeared after she was at Swissmen Sweets visiting my grandmother. And now she was back in the candy shop.
I propped myself up on my elbows and peered at the bed, expecting to see Charlotte there, sleeping on her back like an Amish princess waiting for Prince Charming to come and kiss her awake. There was no Prince Charming. Just me and the empty bed.
Forgetting my aches and pains, I jumped up off the floor. Where could she have gone? I had told her to lie low until I had a chance to talk to my grandmother about her staying at Swissmen Sweets.
There was a small clock on the nightstand—battery-operated, of course. It read eight-thirty. I groaned. I was supposed to wake up at four to help my grandmother make the fresh candies for the day.
Still in my pajamas, I ran down the stairs that led from my grandmother’s living quarters to the front room of the shop. I couldn’t imagine what my hair looked like after I’d spent most of the night tossing and turning on the floor.
I heard voices in the kitchen. Without breaking my stride, I pushed through the swinging door that led into the kitchen. My grandmother and Charlotte froze as I burst in on them. Maami had been cutting fudge into pieces that measured one inch by one inch. She held her knife suspended in the air, while Charlotte held a mixing bowl of melted chocolate and was pouring the hot liquid into waiting candy molds in the shape of Amish buggies. Our buggy chocolates were one of our bestsellers because they were both a candy and a souvenir, and with so many visitors in Harvest for the ACC, the chocolate buggies sold out fast.
Nutmeg was perched on one of three metal stools in the kitchen, licking his paws like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was the only one in the kitchen who seemed undisturbed by my dramatic entrance.
Maami set her knife on the cutting board next to her. “Bailey, you are as white as a sheet. What is wrong?”
I glanced at Charlotte.
The girl ducked her head and resumed pouring the remainder of the chocolate in her bowl into the last mold.
“I-I didn’t know that Charlotte had come downstairs,” I stammered.
My grandmother smiled. “Charlotte has been working with me since four this morning. She is quite good at making candies.”
Charlotte blushed. “I used to make candies with my mother at Christmas. I have always liked it.”
“I’m so sorry. I was the one who was supposed to be up making the candies for the day. Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked my grandmother.
She shook her head. “You needed your rest to compete in the last day of the ACC.”
“I know, but... ,” I trailed off. I was going to say that I hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to her before she saw Charlotte.
My grandmother must have sensed my hesitation because she said, “Charlotte, can you peek in the storage space under the stairs and pull out another jar of molasses? I think I will need that for one of the hard candies I’m going to try my hand at today while Bailey is at the competition.”
Charlotte set the now empty bowl of chocolate in one of the deep sinks. “Of course.”
“Do you know where it is?” Maami asked. “The storage space is right under the stairs that go up to the second floor. You can’t miss it.”
Charlotte nodded. “I know where it is.”
“Gut. Take your time looking,” my grandmother advised.
I suspected that the “take your time looking” was a hint that my grandmother wanted to talk some things over with me. That was good. I wanted to talk some things over too.
The Amish girl gave a single nod and went through the swinging door that led into the main part of the shop.
After the door came to a stop in its back-and-forth swing, I opened my mouth, ready to speak, but my grandmother beat me to it. “I know why Charlotte is here. She’s left her family, and if my suspicions are right, she is getting ready to leave the Amish way altogether. It is what I predicted.”
I walked over to the outlet behind one of the industrial mixers and unplugged my phone. The green indicator light blinked incessantly, telling me that I had several messages. I guessed that half of them were from my best friend, Cass. I had tried to call her late last night after Charlotte had fallen asleep, but she didn’t answer. Instead, I had left a vague message about making a discovery. As I had learned from experience, it wasn’t a good idea to leave Cass a text that said I had found a dead body if I didn’t want to be chewed out by my fiery Italian friend.
Normally, I would slip the phone into the back pocket of my jeans, but since I was still in my unicorn pajamas, I just held it. I was certain that I was the only person to wear unicorn PJs in the kitchen of Swissmen Sweets. Ever. “Did you say that she planned to leave the Amish? She told me she was here because she needed to think about what she wanted.”
Maami gave me a sad smile. “Don’t you think I would recognize the signs of one who is about to leave?”
I swallowed, knowing again that she meant my father. Even though a lifetime had passed, there were still hurt feelings on both sides, but now that I knew my grandmother’s history of leaving her own district to marry my grandfather, I wondered if she wasn’t thinking of herself as well. As she’d said, at some point everyone had to make a choice about how he or she would live their life.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t wake up in time to warn you Charlotte was here. She showed up late last night and needed a place to stay
. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”
She shook head. “I don’t mind. There is no need to apologize. The girl needed a place to sleep, and you gave her shelter. It was the right thing to do.” She picked up her knife and resumed cutting fudge.
“Maybe. But I don’t think her family, her district, or the police will like that she’s here.”
“Aiden won’t mind. He will understand.”
“Aiden isn’t the only member of the Sheriff’s Department,” I said.
She stopped cutting and looked up at me. “It is best that we not make it common knowledge around the village that Charlotte is here. It will be better for Charlotte if fewer people know where she is staying.”
“You want to hide her from the district?” I asked, surprised. As far as I knew, my grandparents never hid anything.
“We aren’t hiding her. If someone sees her or asks if she’s here, we will answer honestly. I would never ask you to lie.”
“I know that,” I said with a smile. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Gut.” She moved the fudge that she’d cut onto a silver serving tray to be placed in the glass-domed counter in the front room of the shop. There was the hint of a smile on her lips, and a pink tint to her cheeks. It was the best she had looked since my grandfather’s funeral. She was happy. She was happy Charlotte was there in Swissmen Sweets, her home. Then it hit me. She could take care of Charlotte, just like she had taken care of my grandfather.
Charlotte needed her when I did not. I frowned. I had tried to fill that void for her, but I was too independent and too stubborn to ask for help, even when I really might need it. Being needed was what Maami needed, and I couldn’t give her that.
“Maami, there’s something I have been meaning to ask you.”
“Hmm?” she asked.
“I’ve been seeing an old Amish woman wandering around the village.”
“Does she have a hunched back?” Maami asked.
I nodded.
“You must mean Ruby.”
“Ruby?”
Maami nodded. “She lives in a little apartment over a yarn shop on Apple Street. When she feels up to it, she likes to walk around the village.”
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