by Alison Stone
Hannah leaned over and said to the girls, “Go look at the cute things in that window.” Emma ran ahead to peer into the boutique window. “Go on now.” Hannah nudged Sarah when the girl didn’t move. After the second prompt, Sarah did as she was told.
“What’s wrong?” Hannah asked Spencer.
Spencer took off his hat and sunglasses. She didn’t want to explore the look in his eyes. She wanted to hold on to the feeling of hope she had only moments ago.
“Is it my mother?” Terror seized her heart. She should have never left her mother alone on the farm. She should have forced her to come to the apartment with her.
“No,” Spencer said, “it’s John Lapp.”
“You arrested him?” Panic seized her heart. Her eyes drifted to her nieces. He’s going to claim he’s innocent, and he’s going to fight for custody of the girls. The girls she was finally winning over.
“It’s not what you think.”
Hannah pressed a hand to her heart. The world narrowed to a small tunnel. “What happened?”
“Hikers found John Lapp’s body in the woods. It looks like he killed himself.”
Her heart dropped. She looked over at the girls. Emma was pointing out a stuffed kitten in the window to her sister. Sarah was only half paying attention, seemingly more interested in her and Spencer, but she was too far away to hear them.
Panic heated her cheeks. Oh, what was she going to tell sweet Emma and Sarah?
Another piece of her heart shattered for her nieces.
Emma and Sarah’s father was dead. There would be no goodbyes. No tearful jailhouse visits.
Nothing.
Her brother-in-law had taken the coward’s way out. He had killed himself. She plucked her T-shirt away from her heated skin. She couldn’t think straight through the haze of anger.
“We’ll never know what happened or why—” she lowered her voice even more “—with Ruthie.”
Spencer cleared his throat. “John Lapp left a note.”
Hannah’s heart stuttered. A note?
Spencer seemed to be watching her warily, as if he feared she was going to pass out on the sidewalk. He touched her arm lightly. “It would be best if you and the girls came down to the station.”
“Oh, okay.” Hannah forced the words out. She didn’t know how much more the girls could take.
A quiet calm descended over her.
Maybe with John gone, they could finally get on with their lives.
Maybe.
TEN
The sheriff’s station was surprisingly busy for a small town. Spencer led Hannah and her nieces across the office. Seated in a far corner were Fannie Mae, Lester and Bishop Lapp. Hannah reflexively squeezed her nieces’ hands. She was going to raise them. She had promised her sister.
“I didn’t know everyone was going to be here,” Hannah whispered, leaning forward so only Spencer could hear.
“We decided it best if everyone was here when we read John’s letter.” Spencer glanced down at the girls; a hesitant expression flashed across his face.
“What about Sarah and Emma? They shouldn’t be here.”
Spencer held out his palm. A young woman dressed in a uniform approached them. “Hello,” the officer said, smiling brightly. “I’m Officer Pyne. Perhaps the girls would like to come with me and have some cookies and juice.”
Hannah squeezed the girls’ hands again. “It’s okay. Go with Officer Pyne. I’ll be right over here talking with the grown-ups.”
Emma went eagerly, but in usual form, Sarah seemed hesitant. She went along all the same. Hannah stood rooted in place as she watched the girls follow Officer Pyne into an adjacent room Hannah assumed was the break room.
Nerves tangling in her stomach, Hannah joined the small group clustered in a corner lined with uncomfortable-looking beige plastic chairs. Knees going weak, Hannah sat, leaving two open spaces between her and Fannie Mae. The Amish woman shifted her knees toward her husband, who sat on the far side of her as if Hannah had somehow offended her.
“Thank you all for coming here under short notice.” Spencer walked around his desk and grabbed a folded piece of paper from the drawer. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
John Lapp’s father, the bishop, made a sound of discomfort and leaned on his cane heavily as he lowered himself into a chair. “My youngest son lost his way a long time ago.”
Lester sat rigid. By his side, Fannie Mae fidgeted with her skirt. “Now that we know John’s...” Fannie Mae couldn’t get the word dead out of her mouth. “Lester and I should take the girls. They belong with us. They need to be raised in an Amish family.” She held out her hand. “She has them dressed like Englischers. Their parents would be so disappointed.”
Hannah scooted to the edge of her chair, her heart pounding in her ears. “Now, wait a minute...”
“We have a lot to sort out.” Spencer held up his hand. “Let me read the letter John left. It was found next to his body.”
Nausea clawed at Hannah’s throat. How desperate John must have been to kill her sister and then kill himself. Lord, give me strength to get through this day.
The bishop crossed his wrists on his cane and bowed his head, as if bracing himself.
Hannah tucked her hands under her thighs and pulled her arms close to her body. Suddenly, she was very, very cold. The air-conditioning pumping out from the ceiling vent didn’t help. She clenched her mouth to keep her teeth from chattering.
Spencer unfolded the letter. “This is a copy of the letter. The original is evidence.” He lifted his eyes and locked gazes with Hannah before he started to read.
“Sorry. I hurt many people. I pray Gott forgives me. Sarah and Emma should be raised by my brother Lester Lapp. He and his wife have a gut home.”
The chatter in the room swirled around Hannah’s head. The voices sounded loud, garbled, unintelligible. The walls closed in on her. The papers on the bulletin board swirled and blended and loomed out, a moving 3-D collage. She blinked. Her palms grew moist. Panic made her want to flee. She closed her eyes and drew in a few deep breaths, trying to tamp down her emotions. She willed herself to focus.
Opening her eyes, she blinked back the sight of Spencer crouched in front of her, a look of concern on his handsome face.
“You okay?”
Hannah blinked a few more times. She looked up to find three more pairs of eyes on her. Lester offered her a cup of water. She took a sip and her light-headedness subsided.
Seeming satisfied that she was fine, Lester said to Spencer, “So, it’s settled then. We’ll take Emma and Sarah home to live with us.”
Alarm swept over Hannah. She jumped to her feet and felt the hard plastic of the chair pressing against the back of her knees. She swallowed hard and prayed for strength. “Nothing is settled. Not if you think you’re going to take my nieces from me. My sister—” she lowered her voice for fear the girls might hear “—was killed by your brother. My sister asked that I make sure her children were cared for.”
“Ruth would want her children to be raised Amish.” Fannie Mae clasped her hands and pressed them to her chest. “You may think I’m stern, but I only want what’s best for the girls. I would be a gut mem.”
For the first time, Hannah noticed a softness, a sincerity, about the woman she had initially overlooked. Hannah bit the inside of her cheek then finally found the words, “I am going to raise the girls.”
Lester threw up his hands. “My brother expressed his interests, too. Don’t his wishes count?” His question was obviously directed to Spencer. “He specifically documented what he wanted.”
“The note is not a legally binding document, if that’s what you’re asking. We don’t even know if he wrote it.”
Lester blinked rapidly under the brim of his straw hat. “Who would have
written it? Are you suggesting he didn’t kill himself?”
Hannah watched Spencer carefully. He kept a neutral expression that did nothing to calm her nerves.
“We have no reason to believe your brother’s death is anything more than what it looks like on the surface.” Spencer crossed his arms over his broad chest and stepped closer to Hannah. “This letter does not give Lester and Fannie Mae legal custody of Emma and Sarah.”
Lester bristled. “We don’t have to live within your legal system.”
“What can I do, Spencer? Can I file for full custody of the girls now that we know their father isn’t coming back?” Hannah hated the desperate tone of her voice.
“This isn’t something we can resolve right now. I suggest you allow the girls to stay where they are and maybe the two families can come to some sort of agreement. A judge will have the final say.”
The bishop, who had sat quietly all this time, pushed to his feet. “Neh, the children cannot spend part of the time in the outside world and the other part as Amish children. It would lead to much confusion.”
“I am not going to hand them over.” Hannah lifted a shaky hand to push back her hair.
“I did not suggest you turn them over,” the bishop said. “I ask that everyone go home and pray. Pray that we make the right decision for these two orphans.”
Hannah slowly shifted her attention toward the break room where her nieces were probably drinking soda and having a treat, blissfully unaware. They were the true victims.
A sharp pain jabbed her stomach. How was she going to tell her nieces their father was dead?
* * *
Spencer escorted the Lapps to the exit, then returned and found Hannah sitting where he had left her.
He sat. “You okay?”
She nodded but didn’t say anything for a long time. When she finally looked up, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “John’s really gone?”
“Yes.”
She nodded again and swiped a tear. “How likely do you think it is that I’ll get to keep the girls?”
He searched her eyes. “Is that what you want?”
She rubbed her forehead. “I believe it’s best for the girls.”
“Then I recommend you go through the legal system. I suspect Lester and Fannie Mae will fight it, but it’s the only hope you have.”
“Okay, okay...” Hannah seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. She pushed to her feet. “I need to get the girls. Get them home.” She sucked in her lips. “I have to tell them about their father.”
“I can come with you.”
She nodded, a mournful expression on her face.
“Give me five minutes, and I’ll take you home.”
“I need to pull myself together before I face them.”
Spencer squeezed her shoulder in a show of comfort then crossed the office space to a filing unit. His fellow officer, Mark Reynolds, approached. “Looks like you were right all along. That John Lapp was up to no good. He was the one who attacked the church elders and cut their beards in the middle of the night.”
“We still have a lot of unanswered questions,” Spencer said noncommittally, yanking open a file drawer.
Mark rested his beefy arm on the credenza. “Why defend him? The guy spelled it out in his suicide note. He was mad at the elders for not enforcing stricter rules.” Mark rolled his eyes. “Who knew an Amish man would want stricter rules?”
“I didn’t share that part of the note with the family.”
“You can’t tell me a guy who kills his wife and offs himself wasn’t the guy who broke into the homes and whacked the beards off some old Amish guys. He was a loose cannon. You called it. Looks like we’ll be able to close two cases.”
“Show a little respect. We need to give the family time to grieve before we interview them about the beard-slashing case.” His fellow officer’s lack of sympathy bugged him. “The bishop lost his son.”
Mark shrugged. “Do you think Ruth Lapp knew what her husband was up to?”
A familiar guilt nudged Spencer. If he had identified John as the perpetrator earlier, could he have saved Ruthie?
* * *
Unable to sleep, Hannah climbed out of bed and checked on Sarah and Emma. The girls both were sound asleep in their twin beds. Blessed sleep. Sarah had the sheet partially over her face, and Emma had her leg flung over the edge. Sleeping as she lived, with complete abandon. The poor sweet girls had been through more than most people had in a lifetime. When Hannah had broken the news of their father’s death, Sarah cried quietly, and Emma appeared less affected, plucking at the hem of her doll’s plain dress. It was almost as if Emma hadn’t expected her father to come back anyway. Or maybe she was too young to fully understand.
Hannah walked through her upstairs apartment and double-checked the locks on the interior door and windows. She wished she had some sort of definitive answer from Spencer that John had been the one and only bad guy. With him dead, were she and the girls safe? Spencer had cautioned her that they still had to determine a time of death. The adrenaline pulsing through her veins made it difficult to think straight.
Emma had claimed she saw Samuel running away after her clothes were tarred. But that may have been a teen prank or again, maybe Emma was mistaken. Samuel had claimed he saw John and perhaps he had run away in fear.
Hannah plopped down on the couch and pulled back the sheer curtains and stared over the dark yard. She squinted. Was that a shadow lurking beyond the ring of light cast by the lone streetlight? She dropped the curtain and slumped into the couch. She couldn’t shake the feeling someone was out there. Watching her apartment. Waiting for her.
You’re safe. John’s dead.
And Spencer lived right across the hall.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. She crept to the door and peered through the peephole. Spencer was unlocking his apartment across the hall. Hannah finger-combed her hair and opened the door.
Spencer turned, a tired and surprised look on his face. “It’s late.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He slipped his hands into his pockets. “You’ve had a rough few weeks.”
“I’m not worried about me.” She drew in a breath and let it out. “I’m worried about the girls.” She rested her hip against the door frame. “Did you see anyone outside when you were coming in?”
Spencer shook his head. “Was there someone out there?”
Hannah shook her head briskly, immediately doubting herself. “It was probably shadows. I’m on edge.”
Spencer put his bag down. “I’ll go check it out.”
Hannah grabbed his hand as he passed. “No, don’t. I’m sure it was nothing.”
Spencer lowered his gaze to her hand touching his and smiled. She quickly clasped her hands behind her back.
“Have a seat.” Spencer gestured to the top step.
Hannah sat and rested her shoulder against the wall and shifted to face him. He did the same, and their knees brushed. She wished life could be just this simple: two people sitting in the stairwell talking on a quiet summer evening.
“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” Hannah hated the uncertainty in her voice.
“What does your heart say?”
She lowered her eyes and studied a chip in the pale blue paint near the pine molding on the stairs. “I can’t live as an Amish person. It’s not who I am. Not anymore. But what about Sarah and Emma?”
“Do you think they’d be happy with the Lapps?”
Memories of her father’s stern rebukes flashed in her mind’s eye. With the new information her mother had shared about her real father, Hannah was now reframing her childhood in a new light. It didn’t justify her father’s angry outbursts, but it explained why he favored Ruthie, his real daughter.
“What?” Spencer tapped her leg gently. “You seem a million miles away.”
“Searching for happiness is an English convention. The Amish live God-fearing, humble lives. Community centered. What if...” A horrible idea came to mind. What if her bad decisions prevented Sarah and Emma from eternal life in heaven?
No...
That had been a threat the Amish held over the unbaptized to keep them in line, but even humble Amish didn’t feel they were guaranteed heaven. It was a hope. And Hannah had hope in her Christian faith even if she decided not to be baptized Amish. Once her life settled down, she’d follow through with joining a local church with her nieces.
She looked up and locked eyes with him. “I believe that as long as you have faith and you’re a Christian, and you live a good life, then it’s okay.” She tipped her head, and her hair fell in a curtain to cover her face. “Then I think about what a crazy world this is, and I wonder if the sheltered life of the Amish would be better for them.”
“The world is a crazy place. I thought by coming to Apple Creek, I could escape some of the harshness of it.” He sniffed and shifted on the stair, leaning his elbows on his knees. “As you know, before coming here, I worked in Buffalo.” He turned his face away from her, but the pain was evident in his voice. “Through an outreach group, I befriended a high-risk boy. He was fourteen...”
Was fourteen...
“I thought I was making a difference. But I couldn’t save him from the violence of drugs and gangs. He was shot and killed outside a convenience store running an errand for his mom. He was wearing the wrong colors that day, and a rival gang took him out. I should have been able to do more.” He turned and looked at her. The pain in his eyes cut her to the core.
“Like what?”
“I had made a few phone calls about getting his family moved to subsidized housing in the suburbs, but I got distracted. Busy with the job.”
Hannah’s heart broke for him.
“Is that why you left Buffalo?”
“Let’s just say I had reached my breaking point.” He gave her a sad smile. “My fiancée...well, my ex-fiancée had been on me. We met in law school. She had dreams of a nice life in the suburbs, big house, kids.”