Through the Autumn Air

by Kelly Irvin

  They didn’t have a lot of crime in Daviess County. Crimes that targeted Amish families even less. It was creepy.

  “I don’t have drawers.” Mary Katherine crossed her legs at her ankles and examined her hands in her lap. “And Burke McMillan doesn’t have this whatchacallit.”

  “I am trying to confirm the facts, that’s all.”

  “In any case, it’s best that you gather your things.” Freeman’s tone held a hint of regret. “Thomas will take you to his house. You can’t stay here alone.”

  “Until the burglars are caught.” Trying to hang on to some sliver of optimism, she made it a statement rather than a question. “I’ll just need a few things.”

  “It’s time to make a permanent move.” Steel replaced the softer regret. “Thomas and your other suhs can pack the rest later when you decide what you need and what you can leave for Dylan and his fraa.”

  “If you don’t want to live with Thomas, you can come stay with me.” Barbara slipped over to Mary Katherine’s chair and patted her shoulder. “Joseph wouldn’t mind. He’d be grateful for me to have company.”

  A newlywed who wanted his mother-in-law underfoot. Something was amiss at the Beachy house. The joy of a not-so-distant wedding day dissipated. All her children were married, but this one not so happily.

  “Or with me and Hannah,” Josiah piped up.

  “Why not my house?” Elijah said.

  Six of her kids spoke at the same time. Argued, rather.

  Freeman whistled. “Enough.”

  They subsided and all but Barbara had the good grace to look abashed.

  “You have a small house, Barbara. Just right for your needs, but not more at this time.” Freeman smiled at her. He swiveled and stared at the men. “Thomas has the most kinner, therefore the most need for help. He has a dawdy haus. It needs some fixing up, but it’ll do. Mary Kay can stay at the house until it’s ready. Joanna will welcome the company and the help.”

  It seemed unlikely that Joanna would welcome Mary Katherine’s company. She always seemed peeved whenever Mary Katherine came around. Like she didn’t need a mother-in-law intruding in the home she’d made for her husband. It didn’t matter—Freeman had spoken. “I should cover that window in the back door.” She stood. “I think I have a piece of plywood in the barn.”

  “That’s fine.” Deputy Rogers picked up the camera. “I’ve taken photos of the back door and dusted for prints. That’s about all I can do. We don’t have any fancy crime-scene investigators in our little office.”

  Sounded pretty fancy to Mary Katherine, but she had no experience with this sort of thing. Nor did she want any.

  “I’ll take care of the door. Mudder, you go pack. Enough for a week. We’ll get the rest later.” Thomas shot from his chair and headed for the front door. “The rest of you can go. No point in everyone missing a whole day of work.”

  Before he could open the door, a sharp rap sounded. He tugged it open.

  Ezekiel stood on the porch, fisted hand raised.

  It wasn’t the reception Ezekiel had expected. Or hoped for. That’s what he got for letting Burke get in his head. Their discussion had echoed in his mind all week. Then he heard about the break-in. He lowered his hand and smiled at Thomas. Thomas’s response was a puzzled smile in return. “Ezekiel. Why aren’t you at the restaurant? Is something wrong? Freeman and Cyrus and Solomon are all here.”

  “Nee. It’s fine. I’m fine. The restaurant is fine. Burke is getting everything ready to open.” He peeked past Thomas. The three church elders were, indeed, standing in the front room. Along with all the other Ropp sons. And Barbara. And Dan Rogers. “I’ve shortened my hours recently. How is everyone?”

  Nods all around. Some friendlier than others.

  Dan slapped his hat on his head and bolted past the other men. “So you don’t need me?”

  “No.”

  “Good, I have work to do.” He squeezed past Ezekiel and clomped down the steps. “If I think of anything else, I’ll be back.”

  Plain folks didn’t stand on ceremony. Ezekiel stepped inside and nodded at Cyrus, Freeman, and Solomon. The three men returned his nod in unison. “I heard about the break-in. I wanted to stop by to make sure all is well.”

  “Deputy Rogers will take care of it. No need for concern.” Freeman nodded. “I also have work to do at home.”

  “Me too,” Cyrus grunted. “I’ll make the rounds, see if there’ve been any other break-ins.”

  They filed out, followed by four of the five Ropp sons. Her expression expectant, Barbara didn’t move. Dylan looked back. “Get a move on. I’ll follow you home.”

  “I thought I’d—”

  “You won’t. Go.” Mary Katherine made swooshing motions with both hands. “Joseph will want his lunch.”

  Her expression morose, Barbara stepped out.

  Only Thomas stayed behind. He pointedly turned his back on his mother. “I need to board up a door, Ezekiel. Help me carry in the plywood and I’ll tell you the whole story.”

  Throughout all this Mary Katherine stood at the bottom of the stairs. Her cheeks were stained pink, but dark, puffy circles ringed her red-rimmed eyes. Her dress looked like she’d slept in it. Her kapp was limp and hair straggled down her neck and forehead. “Happy to help.” He veered around Thomas and approached Mary Katherine. “Are you all right?”

  She shrugged, her smile dim. “Long day yesterday. Long night last night. Very long. Now I’m to move in with Thomas and his fraa.”

  Ezekiel longed to comfort her. Thomas’s presence kept him from saying more. “I’ll help Thomas fix the door.”

  “I’ll make kaffi.”

  He followed Thomas out to the barn. The other man did all the talking until he finished the story, surely with a few of his own flourishes. “And that’s what happened.” Thomas pulled a sheet of plywood about half the size of a door from a pile right inside the doors. “I’d say it was none of my business, but I am the oldest suh and Mudder’s ability to make gut choices seems poor lately, so I’ll ask. Why are you really here?”

  “To make sure she’s all right.” Honesty was the best policy. Ezekiel hoisted his end of the plywood and they wrestled it through the barn doors. He didn’t need Thomas’s permission, but he, too, had been the oldest son. “Do you object?”

  “Nee. Mudder has been a widow for a long time. If it’s Gott’s plan for her to marry again, so be it.” Thomas jerked his head toward the house. “To be honest, it’s tiring to keep answering to Freeman for everything she does. I don’t know why she can’t be like other Plain women. She’s young enough to marry again. Instead, she has all these delusions of grandeur with bookstores and businesses. Her writing is fine and all, but she doesn’t seem to find it enough. Nothing is enough.”

  Maybe because she had a void in her life. A longing that couldn’t be filled by stories and business. She was looking for fulfillment in the wrong places. As Ezekiel did with the Purple Martin. “So you’d like for her to be someone else’s problem.”

  “She’s my mudder. I wouldn’t put it that way.”

  “How would you put it?”

  “I don’t want her to have to make a kneeling confession in front of everyone, especially at her age.” He stomped up the steps and maneuvered the sheet of wood through the door. Ezekiel hustled to keep up. “I want her to live a godly life and be happy. She should be able to do both.”

  “She has a gut heart. She raised ten kinner. She was a gut fraa and mudder.”

  “I know that. I just don’t understand her. She needs to—”

  “Be quiet and be still.”

  “Exactly.”

  Ezekiel stifled his chuckle at the image of Mary Katherine attempting to be quiet and still. Thomas would need to hog-tie her and slap a piece of tape over her pretty mouth. If Thomas really expected that of his mother, he was in for a long, painful wait. “I’ll see what I can do to help.”

  “Much appreciated.”

  Thomas couldn’t know tha
t Ezekiel liked Mary Katherine’s flights of fancy and her chatter and her dreams. He had no intention of changing her.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Englisch funerals were different from Plain ones. Lots of stories about how wonderful Walt had been. Great husband. Great friend. Great businessman. Volunteer of the year. Great father. Best granddad ever. Mary Katherine had expected that. The reception afterward was the same, though. Lots of casseroles and desserts brought by people who cared and didn’t know what to say to the bereaved widow. All of Jamesport had turned out for Walt’s funeral and then some. Family from Texas and California. The children and grandchildren. Little Olivia and Brooklyn looked like their grandmother with her blue eyes and sharp chin. The boys were all Walt. Tall in their black suits and cowboy boots.

  Mary Katherine stayed close to Dottie, in case she needed her, but Dottie remained dry eyed and determined, patting shoulders, giving hugs, thanking folks for coming as if they needed her support and not the other way around. After a few hours, the crowd thinned. Mary Katherine found Dottie in the kitchen stretching plastic wrap over a half-eaten lasagna.

  “This is going to spoil if I don’t get it in the refrigerator.” She fought with the wrap, which had become tangled. She tried to pick it apart. It got worse. She threw the box across the room. It hit the huge double-door stainless-steel refrigerator and landed with a smack on the rose-colored tile. “That stuff is more trouble than it’s worth.”

  “Let me do that for you.” Mary Katherine picked up the box and laid it on the wood-topped island covered with dishes. Orange Jell-O with fruit. Potato salad. Green bean casserole. Tuna casserole. Enchilada casserole. Chocolate-drizzled angel food cake. “You should rest. Take a nap. It’s been a long day.”

  Dottie grabbed a dishrag. She swiped at a drop of coleslaw as if it offended her. “I’m not tired.”

  Mary Katherine tugged the rag from her hands. “I remember when Moses died, I fought sleep. I knew when I woke up, for a minute, I wouldn’t remember. I’d think he was lying next to me in the bed. Then it would hit me and I would grieve all over again.”

  “I can’t bear to go in the bedroom.” Dottie’s red-rimmed eyes welled with tears. She tore a tissue from the box on the counter. Some kind soul had positioned them throughout the house earlier in the day. “It smells like his Dry Idea deodorant and his Polo cologne. The shower in the master bathroom smells like Dial. It smells like him.”

  “I had mixed feelings about that.” Moses didn’t use cologne, but he had his own unique scent. “I wanted to wrap myself up in his shirts. I didn’t want the smell to fade, but I knew it would. I had to pack up his stuff and give them to people who could use them. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it helped.”

  “I don’t know why the smells are harder to bear than his clothes lying on the glider rocker by the window. Or the boots—ostrich, rattlesnake, red, black, brown—all those boots in rows in his closet.”

  “Smells evoke memories.” The aroma of cinnamon rolls baking reminded her of Moses’ kisses. He always kissed her, his lips sweet with frosting and cinnamon, after she made them because they were his favorite. “Sweet memories.”

  “I’m so mad at Walt.” Her voice quavered. “I’m royally angry.”

  “I know.” Mary Katherine squeezed her hand. “Believe me, I understand.”

  “I know you do.” Dottie’s lower lip trembled, but she managed a watery smile. “It hurts my heart to think of what you’ve been through. I thought I understood, but I didn’t.”

  “I know it’s hard to hear this, but little by little, day by day, it hurts less. It gets a tiny bit better until you realize you can go on.” She didn’t tell Dottie she still spoke to her dead husband. She didn’t know of any other widows who did that. Fortunately, Dottie tended not to speak to Walt when she was mad at him. Childish and counterproductive though it was. “You’re not the same as you were before, but you wouldn’t want to be.”

  “He was supposed to retire in two years. We were supposed to buy an RV and travel around the country.” Dottie made a fist of one hand with its fine wrinkles, age spots, and veins that bulged blue. She tapped the island with it lightly, but anger flashed in her eyes. “He was supposed to do the books for our store.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  “If you give me that God-has-a-plan speech, I swear I’ll dump this bowl of Jell-O on your head.” She shook her fist at Mary Katherine. “His days were numbered, you’ll say. God has plans to prosper, not harm you. Blah, blah, blah.”

  “Dottie.” The words shocked Mary Katherine. Even though she’d had those same thoughts several years earlier, she’d never dared to share them with anyone. Not even Laura. What would Laura say in this situation? She always had the words. “You attend the Baptist church every Sunday. You never miss your Sunday school class. You said yourself you didn’t know how folks get through life without Jesus. Don’t you believe that?”

  “Sure I do, but talking the talk is a heck of a lot easier than walking the walk.” Dottie sank onto a swivel stool on the far side of the island. “Life was going along so perfectly. I praised God every day for my blessings. I know bad things happen, but I felt secure. Now I don’t.”

  “So you believe in Him when things are good, but dump Him when something bad happens?”

  “No, I suppose not. That doesn’t mean I have to like this.”

  “Truth be told, I agree.” Mary Katherine slipped around the table and rubbed Dottie’s back. “If you can’t sleep in your bed, try one of the guest bedrooms for a few nights. Sleep helps.”

  “The kids are sleeping in the guest bedrooms.”

  As if her words could conjure them up, Tanya and Miranda appeared at the kitchen door. “There you are.” Tanya, the older daughter, a honey-blonde beauty in a simple black frock that made her look even thinner than she was, took the lead. “You don’t need to worry about this. We’ll get it. You get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another day.”

  Miranda sniffled and reached for a tissue. “Oh, honey.” Dottie hopped up from her stool and rushed to her daughter. “It’s okay to cry.”

  “I’ve cried buckets, Mommy. I can’t stop.” Miranda’s strawberry-blonde hair was mussed. Her nose and her eyes were red. “I just can’t believe it.”

  The three enveloped each other in a group hug. Mary Katherine edged toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone. All of you could use some sleep.”

  “Mom will feel better when we get her situated in Dallas.” Tanya wiggled from her mother’s grasp and held out a hand to Mary Katherine. “Thank you for taking care of her until we got here.”

  Mary Katherine shook her hand. “No thanks necessary. Dallas?”

  Dottie grabbed another tissue and mopped her face. “I can’t stay here in this house. As soon as we get it packed up, I’m going back to Texas.”

  Mary Katherine searched for something to say. “A visit will do you good.”

  “I plan to sell the house.”

  “What about the bookstore?”

  “I can’t do it alone.” She shrugged. “Not without you and Walt. It was simply pie in the sky.”

  Pie in the sky. Mary Katherine wanted a slice of that pie. Life without Dottie would go on, but it would be poorer without her. All those afternoons combing through articles on the internet or ordering books through the loan programs at the big city libraries. And without the dream of spending their days in that shared appreciation of a good book. Surrounded by them, their lovely smell, the anticipation of reading all those words. Her world continued to shrink. Loved one after loved one disappeared. Swallowing the painful lump in her throat, she forced a nod. “Take care. Don’t leave without saying good-bye.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  Mary Katherine climbed into her buggy and tried to think. She should go to Thomas’s, but the fourth cup of coffee still buzzed through her veins. She wanted to go home. To her home. Dylan’s family hadn’t moved in yet, but that house would be filled with
Moses’ woody scent tonight. Phantom scents. Like phantom limbs. “Giddyap.” She turned east, toward downtown. A buggy ride in the dark on the highway wasn’t a great idea. She could take a leisurely path through town. Stretch it out until her brain caught up with her weary body.

  Funerals exhausted a person. Trying to keep a facade from crumbling wore a person out.

  Dottie’s pain looked so familiar.

  Gott, let her feel Your presence and know You are with her. You hold her right hand. You are the Gott of all comfort, even if she doesn’t see that right now. Forgive her anger. I remember that anger. It burned like a gasoline-fueled inferno in me for years. Let hers die to embers that cool quickly. Heal her.

  Dallas would be a good place to do that, it seemed. But memories could not be escaped. They followed a person around. They lived inside broken hearts. Sometimes they festered, keeping a heart from healing. Dottie would find that out. The desire to flee was understandable, but a person couldn’t flee a loved one who never left her heart.

  The horse stopped in front of the Purple Martin Café. She had no idea why or how she’d arrived at this spot.

  Ezekiel stood on the sidewalk, locking the door. He turned. He looked tired, his skin sallow in the security lighting. His gloomy expression fled, replaced by a welcoming smile. “What are you doing out so late?”

  She opened her mouth, expecting her impressions, her sadness, her rawness, to come pouring out. Nothing happened.

  Ezekiel strode to the buggy and put his hand on the wheel. “Did you want to come in?”

  “You’re closed.” She shouldn’t go into the restaurant if no one else was there. “It’s later than I realized.”

  “Everyone’s gone.” His other hand landed on the seat. “You’ve been to Walt’s funeral, haven’t you?”

  “I went to Dottie’s house to the reception . . . to help. It’s chilly.” For the first time she realized the night air held a chill. Dottie’s house had been filled with warm bodies and grief that made the air heavy and hard to breathe. “It’s almost as if winter isn’t far off.”