by Alison Stone
“Is there a problem, Sheriff?” He recognized Lester Lapp, John’s brother, strolling across the grass. Lester had been his father’s, the bishop’s, guard dog, not allowing law enforcement to speak to anyone in the Lapp family since Ruth’s death and John’s disappearance. Lester strode down the slight incline from the house to the barn, his arms swinging confidently by his sides. “I came out as soon as we heard you were here. The bishop is also here.” His tone held a warning. “If you have news regarding my brother, you can share it with me. My father is still weak from grief.”
“I have no news about John.” Spencer wasn’t about to share news of Ruthie’s murder in front of her daughters. “But I’m afraid we’ve had some—” he glanced down at the girls “—events on the property that need to be addressed.” Spencer crossed his arms. “It’s best if we don’t talk in front of the children.”
“Girls, run up to the house for me.” Hannah tossed the metal bucket on the hard-packed mud. It tumbled and landed with the graffiti facing away from the guests.
Lester gave Fannie Mae a subtle nod, giving her permission to take the children up to the house. The older niece yanked her hand from her aunt’s grip and ran ahead. The little one seemed tired of being led around, reminding Spencer of a rag doll dangling by a boneless arm.
“What’s going on?” Lester fingered his unkempt beard and kept his eyes trained on Hannah. “Sheriff Maxwell seems to be spending a lot of time on my brother’s farm. I’d hate for the neighbors to start talking. There is much work to be done if you expect to be accepted in Apple Creek.” He was speaking directly to Hannah.
Was Hannah planning on joining the Amish community permanently? Something in Spencer’s heart shifted, and he wasn’t proud of himself. Regardless of his initial attraction to this spunky woman, she had to make a decision that was best for her even if it meant there would be zero chance of a them. His disappointment seemed silly considering they had only just met. However, there was something about her simple, straightforward manner that was the complete opposite of high-maintenance Vicki.
“Lester, I’m going to forgive your bad manners on account of your tremendous loss,” Hannah said, not mincing words.
“I don’t need your forgiveness.” A vein bulged in Lester’s forehead.
“What’s going on here?” Bishop Lapp navigated his way down the slope with his cane. He looked warm in his black overcoat as the sun climbed higher in the sky.
Lester’s expression immediately softened. He met his father and guided him to the dirt-packed entrance of the barn.
“I have difficult news,” Spencer said. The bishop had aged dramatically these past few days. Spencer cleared his throat and then told Lester and Bishop Lapp of the suspicious circumstances surrounding Ruth’s death.
“Are you saying John hurt Ruth?” Lester crossed his arms over his chest, one of his fingers snagging on his suspenders. “Neh, impossible.” He shook his head adamantly for emphasis. “It was an accident. A tragic accident.”
“I’m afraid the medical examiner’s findings contradict that.”
“And you? How do you feel?” Lester asked.
“I have more questions than answers right now. I need to talk to John. Have you heard from him?” Spencer watched their expressions carefully, trying to detect deceit.
Lester tipped his head, hiding his eyes behind the brim of his straw hat. “Neh. We’re worried.”
“My son had nothing to do with his wife’s death.” The bishop narrowed his gaze. He reached out and clutched a post to steady himself. “You haven’t been in town long, Sheriff. But one thing you must already know. The Amish are a peaceful people. This medical examiner...he is wrong.”
“Someone slashed my tires last night.” Hannah stepped forward. “Any idea who would do that?”
“It wasn’t John. He hasn’t been around. Don’t you think if my brother was around, he’d be consoling his children? He must not be in his right mind due to grief. There’s no other reason he’d stay away so long.” Lester took off his straw hat and rubbed his head. “None of this makes sense. What reason would John have to hurt Ruth and then come back and destroy property?”
Spencer watched Lester. The man appeared genuinely distraught. “You’re all under tremendous stress right now. I’m not accusing anyone of anything. It’s my job to uncover the truth.”
“We want the truth, too.” The bishop’s voice sounded shaky as he mopped his brow with a handkerchief.
“Do you have any idea where John might have gone? Someplace he feels comfortable. Safe.”
“He felt safest here at home.” A tall Amish man with broad shoulders ambled toward them. Spencer recognized him from around town. “Can’t imagine what would keep my good friend away when his daughters need him.” A look of disgust swept across the man’s face as he took in Hannah before his features smoothed into an appropriate look of solemnity. Or had Spencer imagined it?
Spencer held out his hand. “I’m Sheriff Maxwell.”
The man nodded but didn’t take his hand. “I know who you are.” He looped his thumbs through his suspenders. “I’m Willard Fisher. I live down the road where it meets Plum Crossing. John and I help each other out when we can. My boy Samuel has been caring for the animals while he’s gone.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I was away visiting family in Ohio. I wish I had been here to console him after his wife’s accident.”
Lester puffed out his chest, as if in competition with the new arrival. “My brother was overcome with grief. He found his wife’s body. I can’t imagine what I’d do under the circumstances.”
“Have faith.” Willard’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “Have faith in Gott and continue on.”
“Do you know if John or Ruth had issue with anyone? Someone who might have wanted to hurt her?” Spencer shifted his stance, feeling as if he had to brace himself against the men’s displeasure.
The bishop shook his head. “We lead simple lives.”
“Are you saying Ruth’s death wasn’t an accident?” Willard frowned.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Willard and Lester glanced at one another while Hannah looked like she was tired of holding her tongue.
Spencer’s cell phone rang. He glanced at its display. “I have to get this. Excuse me.” As he stepped away, the back of his head prickled with the men’s laser-like gazes.
* * *
Hannah picked up the metal bucket and hung it upside down on the post near the barn. She watched the men to see if anyone had a reaction to the graffiti written on the bottom of the bucket.
“Don’t let your English ways interfere with our peaceful life here.” Lester’s fiery gaze slid from the sheriff to her.
Willard crossed his arms over his broad chest, but didn’t say anything. He obviously agreed. No one wanted an outsider living in their midst. She could dress up in her dead sister’s clothes, but no one would truly accept her until she embraced the Amish way and was baptized and found a suitable Amish husband.
Hannah’s pulse whooshed in her ears. “My sister was murdered. You can’t ignore that. The sheriff has to do a thorough investigation. If John was involved, you can’t protect him.”
Lester shook his head. “My brother had nothing to do with Ruth’s tragic death. It was an accident.”
Hannah lifted her trembling hands to dismiss him. “I can’t listen to this.”
She strode past Lester. He hollered after her, “Will you be joining us for church service tomorrow? We are having service in our home.”
Hannah turned and tugged on the collar of her dress. The thought of sitting in a sweaty barn for three hours listening to Bishop Lapp talk did not appeal to her, but she knew she had to make an effort on account of the girls. Her air-conditioned church back in Buffalo had spoiled her. It wasn’t God she was oppose
d to, it was falling back into her old Amish lifestyle before she made a true decision. Things were happening so fast.
“I have a lot of work to do around here,” she muttered, her brain racing for an excuse.
“It’s Sunday,” the bishop said. “A day of rest.”
“John and Ruth would want the children to go to church service,” Lester piled on.
Low blow.
“I’m not sure how I would get there.” Her car wasn’t an option even if her tires weren’t slashed.
“My family can take the girls,” Willard offered.
Hannah’s gaze shifted to the stern man and wondered where his son Samuel had gotten his soft-spoken demeanor. “I can take the girls to the service. Denki.” The Pennsylvania Dutch word for thank you slipped out of her mouth so naturally it caught her off guard. She’d take the horse and buggy, something she hadn’t done for years.
Hannah thought she detected a low chuckle from Willard, and her cheeks immediately fired hot.
“We look forward to seeing you there.” The bishop tapped the earth with his cane to emphasize his point. “You cannot live in two worlds.”
“I’m doing my best,” Hannah said. “My priority is caring for my nieces.”
Willard picked up the bucket and turned it over, studying the graffiti. “You found this in the barn?”
Hannah swallowed around a knot in her throat. “Yes, seems someone wants me to leave.”
Willard hung the bucket back on the post. “Shame to ruin a perfectly good bucket.” He turned and looked at Hannah. “Is my son doing the chores to your satisfaction?”
“Samuel’s been a big help, thank you.” Hannah felt the need to defend Samuel, and she wasn’t sure why. “I hope his helping me here hasn’t caused you more work on your own farm.”
“You need the help. John will be home soon, then Samuel will be back on my farm.” Willard said it so matter-of-factly, she wondered if he knew something she didn’t.
Unexpected emotion rolled over Hannah. She lowered her voice. “I do hope John comes home soon and this—whatever this is—is all cleared up.”
“He will,” the bishop said. “It’s best if you follow the Ordnung while you are here. I do not want my granddaughters to be influenced by worldly things. I will pray that once you are settled, you will decide to bend a knee.” The bishop made a few shuffle steps to turn around. He picked each step deliberately as he walked toward the house. A knot twisted her stomach. Would she ever be ready to be baptized in the Amish church?
Lester stepped forward. His features softened, yet the angle of his mouth seemed strained. “Fannie Mae and I will raise Emma and Sarah. Gott has not yet blessed us with children.”
A mix of relief, apprehension and dread washed over Hannah. Lester had offered her a way out.
“This life isn’t for you. You can return to Buffalo. We’ll take care of the girls.” Lester hesitated a fraction. “Until John is back and fit to care for them.”
Uncomfortable, Hannah glanced behind Lester and noticed Spencer sitting on the porch steps talking animatedly to the girls. They had bright smiles on their faces, the first she had seen since returning to Apple Creek.
Hannah refocused on Lester. “If I left the girls in your care, could I visit them?”
A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “Neh. Your life in the outside world would only confuse them. Raising her children here was important to Ruth. Ruth is gone, but don’t take her children away from everything that is important to them.”
Hannah hated Lester’s message, but she knew he was right. She backed away from him and made a show of swiping imaginary hay from her skirt. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Fannie Mae will be a good mem to them.”
Hannah’s gaze drifted to Lester’s wife, standing apart as Spencer played with the two girls. Perhaps the woman didn’t know how to interact with children because she didn’t have any of her own. Indecision weighed heavily on Hannah, sucking the air out of her lungs.
“You should give this serious consideration.” Lester adjusted his straw hat by its brim. “I believe Gott has bigger plans for me in this community. I don’t want my family distracted by the outside world.”
“Gott decides such things. Not man. Be humble,” Willard scolded Lester.
Lester bristled. Perhaps Lester, like Hannah, had forgotten Willard was standing within earshot.
Hannah ran a hand across the back of her neck. “You want me to leave and to leave quietly?”
Lester’s dark eyes bored into her. “I want what’s best for my brother’s children.”
“My sister would want me to be their guardian.”
“The children still have a guardian. Their father.” Lester’s eyebrows disappeared under his hat.
“I will be their guardian until that matter is settled.” Hannah bustled past Lester and strode up the hill. The ache in her brain pounded in time with her racing heart.
“Everything okay?” Spencer stood when Hannah reached the porch. The compassion in his eyes diffused a fraction of her anger. Six-year-old Emma jumped to her feet to stand next to Spencer, looking up at him with big blue eyes as trusting as her mem’s.
Hannah glanced at Fannie Mae quickly, then back at Spencer. “Everything is great. Girls, would you like some fresh-baked muffins?” Hannah wanted to make up for the lumpy oatmeal from earlier, but feared her baking skills were also rusty.
Emma and Sarah raced Hannah inside. The screen door slammed in its frame, shutting out the outside world, even if only temporarily.
FOUR
Hannah adjusted the buckle on the horse’s harness and tugged on the end of the leather strap. Quietly, she muttered to Buttercup, reassuring her sister’s beautiful horse as she hitched the animal to the buggy. This was the second time she’d done this in the past twenty-four hours, and it was beginning to feel like old hat.
Hannah had done a lot of reflecting since yesterday’s church service. It had been more than a decade since she’d sat on the backless benches at an Amish service, praying and singing the hymns from the Ausbund. The language she had tried to put behind her when she moved to Buffalo came back with ease. She felt a certain peace she hadn’t felt in a while. A peace she struggled to find as an outsider in the English word. Yet she didn’t know if she’d be able to commit to the Amish way.
Would she ever be ready?
Hannah had no idea. But for now, she had to get answers. No one other than the sheriff wanted to entertain the idea that John might have played a role in her sister’s death. She had decided if anyone truly knew John, it was his friend Willard. Willard was one of the men who had left Apple Creek with John and later returned. She had learned this much from her mother last night.
And something about Willard sent Hannah’s nerves on edge.
Hannah adjusted the final strap on the horse’s harness and stepped back to admire her work. Hitching a horse to a buggy took a lot more time and effort than hopping into her car and jamming the key into the ignition. But there was something very satisfying about it.
Hannah had left Emma and Sarah and some building blocks with her mother, promising she wouldn’t be long. She patted Buttercup’s mane when she was done hitching her to the buggy, satisfied that some tasks, however complicated, came naturally. She wondered if her ex-boyfriend back in Buffalo would call her inept now? No, more than likely he’d be too busy mocking her choice of clothing.
Wow. She hadn’t thought about him since she got the phone call about her sister. Maybe she had moved on. Too bad it took her sister’s death for her to do so.
A cool breath prickled the hair at the back of her neck despite the warm summer sun beating down on her. She glanced around the deserted farm.
Hannah hustled into the buggy. “Trot,” she commanded the horse. The buggy bobbled an
d dipped over the ruts. She smiled to herself with satisfaction. Willard lived in walking distance—Samuel walked back and forth most days to do his chores—but Hannah hoped she’d have time after talking to Willard to run into town to pick up a few necessities.
Once on the country road, Hannah flicked the reins, and the horse picked up his gait. The country air caressed her face. The fresh smell of cut grass at a nearby home tickled her nose, and the warm sun kissed her face. She had forgotten how peaceful it was to be out on a country road all alone.
Except for the occasional car or truck whizzing by.
Beyond the curve, she saw Willard’s place. She tugged on Buttercup’s reins and pulled off the main road. She hopped out of the buggy and looped the reins around a post on the split rail fence lining the front of their property. As she walked toward the front door, her heart raced wildly. She didn’t know what she was going to say to this man. She couldn’t very well come out and ask him if he thought his friend was a murderer. Willard didn’t exactly exude what she’d call the warm fuzzies.
Apprehension made her footsteps deliberate. Maybe she should let Spencer handle the investigation. But Willard was unlikely to talk to someone in law enforcement. She straightened her back and climbed the last step. Perhaps he would be more open with an Amish woman, a hesitant one at that.
Hannah lifted her hand to knock and stopped when she saw her old friend Rebecca walking toward the door. The shocked expression on her friend’s face surely matched the one on her own. “I heard you were back, Hannah.” Rebecca made no effort to open the screen door.
“Rebecca, what are you doing here?” Hannah took a step back, wondering if she had gotten the wrong house. “I’m looking for Willard Fisher.”
“My husband is doing chores in the barn.” Rebecca glanced behind her, fidgeting with the fabric of her skirt.
“You’re married to Willard? But his son...” Her words drifted off. Samuel was too old to be her dear friend’s child.