by Alison Stone
* * *
Later that day, Spencer looked across the cab of his truck at Hannah on their way into town to pick up locks for her front and back doors, and for her mother’s house. She wore her sister’s plain black dress and had her hair neatly pulled up and tucked under a bonnet. From regular clothes this morning to Amish clothes by lunch was quite the transformation. A part of him felt like he was dealing with a different person.
Hannah’s two nieces were fastened in with seat belts in the backseat of his truck. Nine-year-old Sarah put up a surprisingly adamant fuss about getting into Spencer’s truck. Her father, she claimed, would be very mad if they rode in an English car. It took some persuasion on Hannah’s part, but Sarah wasn’t fully buying the theory that it was okay for the Amish to ride in a vehicle, they just couldn’t own or drive one. Thankfully, Emma was eager for a new adventure.
Spencer turned onto the main road, and Hannah spoke for the first time. “I appreciate your driving me into town.” Hannah glanced over her shoulder and gave her nieces a quick look. “I need to be careful how I act because Lester’s going to be looking for any reason to force me out.” She neglected to add, “And take the girls.” But Spencer knew that was her first concern.
“Your mind is made up?” Spencer cut her a sideways glance. He shouldn’t care so much about the answer. But he did. She had sounded very convincing when she lashed out at Lester and told him she was going to raise the girls. He assumed that meant as part of the Amish community.
Hannah tugged on her seat belt and shifted to look out the window. It wasn’t a fair question to ask while her nieces were listening from the backseat. He thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “What do we need to pick up?” His cheery tone sounded a little forced.
“Locks and a few basic necessities.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see she was facing him now. “I do appreciate your help, especially with the locks, but if I’m going to do this, I have to figure out a way to do it on my own.” Hannah fidgeted with the strings of her bonnet. “I can’t call you every time I need a loaf of bread.”
“Mem made our bread. We never needed to go to the store for that,” Sarah whined from the backseat.
Hannah twisted to face her niece. “Maybe we can make bread together. You can show me how you and your mem made bread.”
Tense silence expanded and filled the cab of his truck.
If Hannah was frustrated, she didn’t let on. “What do you have there?” She stretched her arm over the seat and retrieved her cell phone from Emma.
“I found it on the table in your room,” Emma said with a hint of apology.
“That’s okay. Do you want to see how it works?” Spencer imagined Emma nodded because Hannah stretched into the backseat to show her niece how to dial the phone. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“Can I play with it?” Emma asked with all the enthusiasm of a six-year-old.
“Sure.”
“She shouldn’t play with that,” Sarah said, her tone filled with disgust. “You’re bringing too many worldly things here.”
“It’s okay, your sister’s curious.”
“And you really need to stop wearing English clothes,” Sarah added, heaping on her annoyance with her aunt.
Hannah plucked the fabric gathered around her thighs. “I suppose you’re right. I can’t slip into my jeans and sneakers anymore because I think they’re more practical.”
Spencer pulled his truck alongside the curb in front of the General Store in the center of Apple Creek. She had a look of expectation on her face. “What is it?” he asked.
“I hate to impose, but I was thinking we could drive to the next town to the superstore. I need so many things, and I’m on a tight budget.”
“I’d be happy to...but—” he gestured with his chin toward the row of shops “—I was thinking you and the girls might like some ice cream.”
A click and a whoosh of fabric sounded from the backseat. Little Emma placed her chubby hands on the back of the seat and poked her face over the leather. “Can we have ice cream?”
A smile tilted Hannah’s lips.
“My treat.” Spencer climbed out of the vehicle before Hannah had a chance to protest. He walked around and opened her door. Hannah climbed out, looking around as if she were a fugitive. He leaned in close. “A quick ice cream cone, and I’ll take you shopping in the next town.”
Spencer opened the back door, and Emma scampered out, and a reluctant Sarah followed. Hannah nudged the older girl’s shoulder. “What kind of ice cream do you like?”
“Dat says ice cream is only for special occasions.”
Hannah sucked in a breath. “Well, this is a special occasion. Sheriff Maxwell is going to treat us. That’s special, right?”
Sarah’s expression grew pinched. For the briefest of moments, Hannah saw Ruthie in her daughter’s face. Serious little Ruthie. Nostalgia formed a thick knot in her throat.
Spencer pointed to the clapboard sign mounted on the side of the ice cream shop. “Go pick your favorite flavor.”
Emma bolted ahead, her little legs pumping under her long dress. Hannah whispered to Sarah. “Go help your sister read the board.”
Sarah turned up her nose. “She can read.”
“Not as well as you, I imagine.” Hannah’s tone was calm and encouraging. Spencer figured she didn’t give herself enough credit when it came to the girls.
Sarah squared her shoulders and marched after her sister as if selecting ice cream flavors was a royal hardship. The two little bonnets moved together as they studied the board.
An Amish woman walked toward them. She lifted her head and seemed to snort her disdain. After she passed, Hannah said, “See what I’m up against? How can I raise the grandchildren of the bishop without everyone thinking I’m not good enough? They’ll be pressuring me to turn the girls over to Lester and Fannie Mae.” Hannah sat at a nearby picnic table, a faraway expression in her eyes. “Maybe I’m doing what I’m accusing others of doing.”
Spencer lowered his chin.
“Maybe I’m too judgmental. Lester’s sternness and Fannie Mae’s strictness are not unheard of in the Amish community. My own father was very strict, yet I want to believe deep down that he was a good man. I saw how good he could be to Ruthie. Maybe...” She traced a groove in the picnic table.
Spencer touched Hannah’s hand and she froze. Looked up at him. “Lester might not be the best choice. I’ve heard stories about the Lapp family even before...” He was going to say your sister’s murder, but he stopped himself.
Hannah’s brows furrowed.
“John and Lester Lapp didn’t get along.” Spencer shot his gaze over to the ice cream stand. Emma and Sarah were still selecting flavors. “I was called to break up a fight between the brothers.”
“A physical fight?”
Nodding, Spencer lifted a hold-on-a-minute finger.
Emma ran over to them. “May I please have a bubble gum ice cream cone with sprinkles?”
“Of course you can.” Spencer dug out a twenty and handed it to Emma. “Would you like anything, Hannah?”
She shook her head. Spencer patted his belly. “I better not, either.”
Emma ran back to her sister. Hannah and Spencer continued their conversation out of earshot, but close enough to keep an eye on the young girls.
“What were John and Lester fighting about?” Hannah asked, her tone chilly on the hot summer afternoon.
“They wouldn’t tell me.” Spencer sat across from Hannah at the picnic table, stuffing his legs under the table. “But I did some asking around. Isaac, an Amish man who works at the General Store, seems to think there was some discord between the men because the bishop was pressuring John to sell land to his brother.”
“That land has been in my family...” Her words trailed off, as if
realizing how much had changed since her family farmed the land.
“John had gotten away from farming, and the land was sitting idle. Lester wanted a sizable chunk to build a home and farm.” Spencer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Good land. Cheap price.”
Hannah’s eyebrow twitched. “Perhaps that was the change Ruth feared. She never came out and said. Maybe she was afraid of losing our family’s farm.”
About ten feet away, Emma sat at a child’s picnic bench, and her sister joined her.
“How was John in his faith?” Spencer asked, sliding over a fraction to get under the shade of the umbrella.
“Ruth had been convinced her husband was more committed than ever to the Amish faith, perhaps because of his experience in the outside world. She said he claimed he knew how bad things could be.” She played with the string of her cap. “I told her things weren’t all that bad in the outside world. I guess I felt a little defensive. But I didn’t paint an overly glowing picture, either. I didn’t want to be responsible for any unrest on her part.”
“Would you say his commitment was fanatical?” Spencer studied her face, and something flashed across her eyes. Fear? Annoyance? Confusion?
“Fanatical.” Hannah seemed to be trying the word on for size. “My sister and her husband were Amish. By many people’s standards, they would be considered fanatical.”
“Fanatical by Amish standards?”
“I didn’t know John.” Hannah stood and grabbed a few napkins from the holder and offered them to Emma and Sarah at the nearby table. Emma had a big glob of sprinkles stuck to her cheek. Sarah ate her ice cream neatly with her spoon, watching a boy on a skateboard jump the curb. “Is the ice cream good?” Hannah asked, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Emma’s eyes grew wide, and she nodded. Sarah smiled tightly. “Thank you, Sheriff Maxwell.”
“You’re welcome.”
Spencer thought he noticed Hannah shiver.
Spencer reached out and touched her hand. “You okay?”
“Not really.” She ran a hand across her brow. “Not long ago, I was thinking maybe it was time to get a haircut, maybe paint my nails pink. Now I’m wearing my dead sister’s Amish gown and making plans for her daughters.”
SIX
Later that afternoon, Hannah got Emma and Sarah settled in with a book so she could meet the tow truck driver from AAA out by the barn. Spencer was supposed to arrive soon and install the locks on the doors. She was looking forward to the distractions because she had just called her supervisor at the bank and resigned her position. Her mouth had been so dry she wasn’t sure she was going to get out the words. But she had. And it was done. She was still wavering about her long-term plans, but she couldn’t abandon the girls now. And her job wouldn’t keep.
Hannah gathered her skirt in her hand and crossed the yard to meet the tow truck driver who’d just arrived. The cab of his white truck had the letters Apple Creek Towing with a little Amish buggy on the side. She smiled at the irony of it. She figured it was all in the marketing.
The tow truck driver hopped out of the cab, a perplexed look on his face. Hannah forced a smile and shook her head. “It’s a long story.” She handed him her AAA membership card and smiled at him. While he was calling in her information, she grabbed her cell phone and charger from the car. She’d have to figure out another plan for charging it in the near future. The driver finished his call and connected her vehicle with chains and hoisted it up on the flatbed truck. When he was finished, she asked him to drop the car off at Al’s Garage in town. Al was going to put on four new tires and nearly drain her savings. Such was the life of a single, bank-teller-turned-Amish mom. She hoped to sell the car and use the money to hold her over. That was, if there was money left over after she paid off her loan.
“Okay, ma’am.” He tipped his baseball cap at her. He hesitated before getting back into the cab. “If you don’t mind me asking, I thought your people didn’t drive cars.”
Hannah gave him a weary smile. “We don’t.” She lifted her hand in a wave. “Al’s expecting my car. Thank you.”
The driver gave her a sheepish nod and climbed into the truck. She stood in the driveway and watched as the truck bobbled over the wagon-wheel ruts. Well, there goes another piece of my past.
A rustling sounded from inside the barn. Narrowing her gaze, Hannah moved toward it. Another nudge of guilt pinged her insides. She had pretty much left Samuel to take care of the animals the past few days. Her sister wouldn’t have been so lax.
The thought of her sister’s body in the silo forced her to catch her breath. Poor Ruthie. Would Hannah ever be able to fill her sister’s shoes?
Once she reached the doorway of the barn, she noticed a dusting of hay sprinkling down from the loft like snow. Perhaps a bird of some kind had found its way into the loft.
Then she heard it. A trill from a cell phone. From the hayloft. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch.
“Hello?” She stepped back and stretched onto her tiptoes to try to see into the loft, but she couldn’t. The ringing stopped almost as soon as it started. “Who’s up there?” she asked when no one answered.
More hay sprinkled down from the loft. Then the top half of a head with thick brown hair peered over the edge of the loft. Samuel, her farm hand and Willard’s son. “It’s me, Miss Hannah.”
Hannah let out a relieved breath and pressed a hand to her chest. “What are you doing up there?”
He disappeared and for a minute, Hannah thought he was going to ignore her question. “Samuel Fisher, come down her this instant.”
“Coming, Miss Hannah. I just have to...”
“Bring whatever it is you had with you down here.” Hannah stood with her hands on her hips as the boy backed down the ladder, a burlap bag flung over his shoulder. When he reached the ground, he turned and strode toward the door, a determined expression on his face.
“Wait a minute.” Hannah’s pulse thumped in her ears. “What were you doing up there? Was that a cell phone I heard?”
Samuel looked down and dragged the toe of his boot across the hay. “I...um...I...” His cheeks grew bright red.
“Tell me right now, or I’ll be forced to address this matter with your father.” There was no way Samuel knew she was bluffing.
A scared expression haunted the teenager’s eyes. “Oh, please don’t. He’ll be mad. He won’t understand.”
Sympathy blossomed in her chest, but she had to remain strong. “I’m not mad. I want to know what you were doing in the loft. You don’t have any business up there at this time of day, do you?”
“Neh, ma’am.”
“Then tell me.”
Samuel yanked at the edge of his burlap bag and pulled out a book. It looked like a science-fiction title. Surprised, Hannah tipped her head and studied his face. “You were reading up there?”
The boy nodded. “My dat thinks it’s a waste of time. He thinks I need to direct all my focus on farming.” Samuel shrugged, making himself seem so much younger than his seventeen years. “Taking care of God’s land.”
“And you have a cell phone?”
Samuel nodded. “Some of die Youngie have cell phones. It’s frowned upon, but it’s overlooked during Rumspringa. A bunch of us got them at the superstore in the next town. I have enough odd jobs to pay for it.” He dropped the book into the bag and twisted the burlap opening, a nervous gesture. “My dat wouldn’t understand.”
“I know all about struggling with a parent.”
The boy looked up at her, hope glistening in his brown eyes. “Is that why you left the Amish?”
“Did your mem share my past with you?” He was way too young to remember the scandal when a young Amish girl named Hannah Wittmer jumped the fence.
“I overheard Mem and Dat talking abo
ut it.”
“Mem? Rebecca, your stepmom?”
“She is my mem now.” He fingered the strap of his burlap bag.
“What did you overhear?”
“Mem and you were good friends, and Dat thinks it’s best if you didn’t rekindle your friendship.” The color rose in his cheeks, as if he realized he had said too much. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to get home. Dat will be looking for me.”
“I’ve had a few problems around here since my sister died. Do you know anything about that?”
Samuel unwound the bag. “What problems?” He poked at the hay with the toe of his boot. He had a tendency to do that.
She jerked her thumb toward the open barn door. “Someone slashed the tires on my car. Someone may have knocked over a lamp causing a small fire in the barn.”
The boy shook his head, fear evident in his eyes. “Neh, it wasn’t me.”
“Have you brought any of your friends around here? Perhaps you mentioned that you were helping me out?”
“I didn’t.” Samuel shifted his feet. The set of his mouth was hard to read.
Hannah held up her hand. “You can go, Samuel.”
“Are you going to tell my dat?”
“No, unless you think I have reason to.”
He shook his head. “I’ll be back in the morning to take care of the animals.”
“Sounds good.” Hannah watched as Samuel took a few steps toward the door. “Oh, and Samuel, you’re welcome to read your book here anytime. Just knock on the door of the house and let me know you’re here.” She had gotten lost in the hayloft more than once herself as a young girl while reading Laura Ingalls Wilder.
An I-can’t-believe-my-luck smile played across his lips. “Thanks, Miss Hannah.”
“And one last thing.”
“Yes?” Samuel’s whole demeanor had brightened.
“If you ever need anything, just ask. I’m a pretty good ear.”
Samuel lowered his gaze without saying anything.
“Have a good afternoon.”
Samuel nodded and spun around. He broke into a jog, but the fear on his face when she mentioned telling his father was etched in her memory. What was the boy so afraid of?