by Marta Perry
He passed one of the Amish-owned shops, glancing in at handmade rocking chairs. Not much business today, probably. The tea shop and bakery was doing a little better, with folks stopping in for a quick bite and to catch up on the latest gossip.
A car came down the street fast, and then slowed when the driver obviously spotted him. Adam raised his hand, recognizing Judge Judith Waller at the wheel. She looked like a sedate grandmother and drove like a teenage drag racer. He might give her a warning, but professional courtesy dictated that he not ticket her, and she knew it.
She smiled, waved and proceeded down the street at a more decorous pace.
Several buggies were drawn up in the alley next to the hardware store, and he spotted Bishop Amos leaning on the counter, talking to Sam Robertson, the owner. On impulse, he pushed the door open and walked inside. The heat from the wood-burning stove assailed him, and he unzipped his jacket.
“Feels like summer in here, Sam.” He approached the counter.
“It’s a good advertisement for the wood-burners, don’t you think?” Sam, lean and graying, grinned at him, and Bishop Amos nodded gravely.
“Has it sold many of them?” He had his doubts. Most people didn’t want the trouble of a wood-burner when they could just push up the thermostat, although sometimes they had cause to regret that decision when the power went off.
“You’d be surprised,” Sam said. “What can I do for you today? Does the police department need a fresh supply of locks?”
“No, thanks. Actually, I saw Bishop Amos was here and wanted to have a word.”
Nothing seemed to startle the bishop, and his blue eyes were tranquil when he nodded. “I am always glad to see you, Adam. You want to talk about Esther, ain’t so?”
With his work-callused hands and slightly stooped shoulders, Bishop Amos looked like what he was, a hardworking farrier. He was also the spiritual leader of the Spring Township Amish community.
Sam faded tactfully into the back with a murmur about stocking shelves. Adam leaned against the counter, not sure how to begin.
“I thought maybe you could tell me if there are any rumors going around among your people about Esther’s accident. So far we haven’t had much success in tracing the person who hit her.”
Bishop Amos shook his head. “That was a sad thing, for sure. Folks are talking about it, but nobody has any guesses as to who the driver was, at least not that I’ve heard. Whoever he was, we forgive him. It is up to God to deal with him.”
“It’s also up to the law,” Adam said. “But we have to find him first.”
Bishop Amos nodded, accepting his words, but Adam knew that didn’t mean he’d turn to the law himself. The Amish believed in living separate from the world. In the world, but not of it. Strictly law-abiding themselves, they were unlikely to seek redress from the law when they were wronged.
“Libby Morgan received a few letters from Esther recently that indicated Esther was worried about something. Apparently it was something that affected both the Amish and the English. Any idea what that might be?”
Bishop Amos shook his head automatically, but then he paused, frowning. “It might be… But that could have nothing to do with Esther’s accident.”
Adam tried not to sound too eager. “Anything you can tell me might help. It might have something to do with why she was out on Dahl Road that night.”
The bishop seemed to weigh something. Finally he shook his head. “Some of my people have been a bit concerned about a problem recently, but I did not think Esther was among them.”
“If you tell me, it won’t go any further.”
Bishop Amos’s gaze met his. “You have always been a gut friend to the Amish, Adam. I don’t forget that. But there are some things I cannot discuss.”
Adam shrugged, trying to conceal his disappointment. “I’m always here, if the situation changes.”
“Perhaps it may change in a way none of us expected.” The bishop’s weathered face creased in a smile. “Esther Zook has been improving more than the doctors thought possible. She opens her eyes and seems to understand what people say. There’s a rumor she will even go home soon.”
That startled him. “Is she talking?”
“Not yet. But once she is home again, perhaps that will happen.”
Home. An isolated farm, with no one there to protect her. Esther might improve at home, but she might also be in serious danger, as Libby had pointed out with such emphasis.
He’d have to talk with the Zook family about this as soon as possible. To say nothing of Libby, who’d be involved up to her chin, if he knew her.
* * *
THE HOSPITAL WAS beginning to feel way too familiar. Libby walked toward Esther’s room, nodding to the nurse who always seemed to be on duty when she arrived. If she felt this way, think how much worse it was for Esther’s mother, who’d practically been living here since the accident.
When she opened the door, her heart seemed to stop. Esther’s bed was empty.
And then Rebecca came toward her, beaming. “Esther is at physical therapy. Mary Ann has gone with her to learn what to do, so that she can help Esther when she comes home. It is wonderful gut, ja? The doctor says she might be able to leave the hospital this week.”
The therapists had been coming to Esther’s room every day lately to work with her, mentioning the importance of keeping her from losing muscle tone, but this was the first time she’d gone to them.
Libby collected her scattered thoughts. “Leave? You mean, go to a rehab facility?” They’d have to make new security arrangements at a new place.
“The doctor suggested that.” Rebecca took her hand, leading her to a chair. “But we are sure that Esther will get well faster at home.”
Esther would go home, and she’d encounter all the dangers that accompanied that. And there would be no guard on duty at the door every night to protect her.
Libby tried to find the argument that would work best on Rebecca. “Surely she would recover faster at a rehab facility. They have all the equipment she would need, and the therapists are trained to help her. You want her to get back to her old self.”
“She will do that faster in her own home, with her familiar surroundings.” Rebecca sounded stubbornly convinced that she was right. “And the doctor says he will arrange for the physical therapist to come to the house three times every week. The rest of the time, we will help her.”
Libby clasped her hand. “What about the danger to Esther? The man you saw in her room? The one who tried to get me to leave her alone the other night?”
“She will be safer at home. Someone will always be there with her.” Rebecca seemed to be trying to convince herself. Her fingers tightened on Libby’s. “It will be for the best. You’ll see.”
She didn’t agree, but it was obvious that her opinion wasn’t going to count for much. Pressing her lips together, she struggled to find another argument, but she couldn’t. In fact, she could only think of one possible solution.
“When you do take Esther home, I’d like to come and stay for a while, if that’s all right with you.” She imagined she felt a slight withdrawal in their clasped hands. “Please, Rebecca. You know I won’t be a bother. And I can help with Esther’s exercises. Mary Ann has so much responsibility as it is with the children. I’m sure you can use an extra pair of hands.”
Rebecca’s gaze was troubled. “But what about your job? And your mamm. She probably wants to have you home with her after being away so much.”
“I’ve left my job, so my time is my own for now. And you know that my mother would be the first one to want to help out.” She paused. “It would mean so much to me to be able to help Esther.”
And to protect her. Even if the only weapon she had was a cell phone, at least she’d be a link with the outside world.
“Ja, I know.” Rebecca smiled and patted her cheek. “Esther would like that fine, and so would I.”
“Will it be all right with Isaac?” She hadn’t forgotte
n how eager he’d been to have her leave the hospital at first, although he seemed resigned to her presence now.
“Don’t you worry about Isaac. He is still my boy, after all. Who I have to stay at the daadi haus is my own business, ain’t so? It is settled, so long as your mamm agrees.”
Maybe it was best not to point out that she was a grown woman who didn’t ask her mother’s permission any longer. “I’ll talk with her tonight. I know she’ll feel just as I do about it.”
Of course there was one person who would disagree, and she suspected that he’d do so firmly and at length. But Adam didn’t control where she went and what she did.
* * *
LIBBY HAD JUST stepped out of Esther’s room when she spotted Adam getting off the elevator. Judging by the look on his face, he was on a mission, and probably didn’t want to be interrupted.
She’d like to use that as an excuse to avoid another argument, but she certainly didn’t want him hearing about her plan to stay at the Zook farm from anyone else. In fact, she didn’t even want anyone within earshot when he heard about it.
“Adam, do you have a minute?”
The frowning glance he sent her way wasn’t particularly encouraging. “Can it wait? I need to talk to Esther’s family.”
“I think it’s better if you hear what I have to say first.” She glanced down the hallway, but the door to the chapel was propped open and the whir of a vacuum cleaner could be heard from within. She turned the other way. “There’s a patient lounge down this way.”
She walked off quickly, trusting that he’d follow her. And trying to shape in her mind the argument she suspected they were about to have.
The patient lounge was a sunroom, bright even in winter with its array of windows. The furnishings, white wicker and colorful chintzes, were the polar opposite of the usual hospital fare of plastic and vinyl.
“This will do. No one’s in here.” Unfortunately there wasn’t a door she could close, but she walked across to the farthest window, which overlooked the distant ridge. “Nice room, isn’t it?”
Adam looked at her with something like surprise in his face. “It should be, since your mother decorated it.”
“Mom?” She blinked. How had she not known that?
For an answer, he pointed to a small bronze plaque on the wall. She stepped closer to read it.
“Dedicated to the beloved memory of Blake Winston II, from his family.” Her throat seemed to close on the words.
“You didn’t know?” Adam moved so that he stood next to her, his body shielding her from anyone glancing in the doorway.
“My mother never mentioned it.” She touched the plaque lightly. “Now I know why the room seems so familiar.”
“Yes.” Adam was quiet for a moment, but she could feel his controlled impatience. “You wanted to talk to me.”
She forced herself to look away from the plaque. “I had some disturbing news from Rebecca when I came in today. It looks as if they’ll be taking Esther home, maybe as early as this week.”
“That’s why I came by. I heard something of that from Bishop Amos.” His face looked as if it was carved from stone. “We have to change their minds.”
Adam was reacting the same way she had, and she didn’t want him upsetting Rebecca.
“I know, but I don’t think that’s possible. I’ve already tried. Rebecca is convinced that Esther will do better at home, and she’s sure Esther will be safe with all of the family around them.”
“A family that embraces nonviolence, that won’t turn to the police for help, that couldn’t call for help even if they wanted to? How is that safe?” He turned. “I’ll talk to her.”
Libby put her hand on his arm. It was like grasping a metal railing. “Please, Adam, stop and think before you barge in there. If I couldn’t persuade Rebecca, what makes you think she’ll listen to you?”
He stood where he was, clenching his jaw so tightly that a tiny muscle twitched. “There has to be a way. If they take her to that farm— You know the danger as well as I do.”
“I know. Do you think I didn’t try? I suggested moving Esther to a rehab facility, thinking that would be easier to protect. Rebecca won’t consider it. I know her. She might seem like a quiet, submissive woman, but she has a will of iron where her family is concerned. But she did agree to one concession.”
“What?” He glowered, obviously not liking the feeling that he couldn’t control events.
“She’ll let me stay at the farm with Esther.”
For a long moment he stared at her. Then—“No.” And he turned away.
“I’m not asking for your permission, Adam. Rebecca will take Esther home as soon as the hospital will let her go. You know perfectly well they won’t allow us to place a guard at the farm. If I’m there, I can call for help at a moment’s notice.”
“Esther shouldn’t be moved from the hospital, and if her family won’t listen to reason, then I’ll find someone who will.” He stalked across the room, frustration in every line of his body.
“What are you going to do?” She was almost afraid of the answer.
“Talk to the doctors, the hospital administrator, maybe the district attorney. There has to be someone who can stop this.”
“Adam…” But he was already gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BY EVENING, Libby was ready to fall asleep where she stood, but she couldn’t. She’d used every excuse she could come up with to avoid telling her mother about her job. Now she also had to tell her about the move to the Zook farmhouse. It was time to clear the air entirely.
She drifted into the family room, her mother’s favorite relaxing spot in the house. Looking around the comfortable room, Libby realized why the patient lounge had seemed so familiar.
Mom was curled in a corner of the couch, frowning at the knitting pattern she was following. Never just relaxing, of course. She always had to be doing something.
Libby sat down next to her. “I was in the patient lounge at the hospital today. I didn’t realize you had donated it in Daddy’s honor.”
Mom let the knitting fall to her lap. With her blue jeans and oversize man’s sweater, she looked like a child playing dress-up.
“Oh, it wasn’t anything. But you should have seen what it looked like before. Institutional green walls and motel modern furniture.” She wrinkled up her nose. “I think it’s a bit less depressing now.”
“It’s lovely. Very welcoming,” Libby assured her. “It reminds me of this room.”
Her mother nodded, glancing around at overstuffed chintz and aged wood. “I hope so. This was your father’s favorite room in the house. I think he’d be pleased.”
Libby tried to speak around the lump in her throat. “Why didn’t you tell us about it?”
Her mother shrugged. “You know how your father felt about charity. Never let the right hand know what the left hand is doing. But in this case, the hospital board insisted on the sign.”
“Dad would have loved it, even with the plaque,” she said. She cleared her throat. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you since I got home.”
“You mean about quitting your job?” Mom said.
“Who blabbed? Did Adam tell you—” She stopped. She was giving too much away, revealing that she’d confided in Adam.
Her mother’s eyes brightened, as if she’d heard good news. “Well, what else could it be? You’ve stayed here much longer than you intended already, and you haven’t said anything about asking your boss for more time off. You haven’t mentioned the paper once. Just because you always picked your father to confide in doesn’t mean that I’ve lost my mother’s intuition where you’re concerned.”
Libby blinked. “I didn’t…I didn’t intend to make you feel left out.”
Mom patted her hand. “I admit, I felt that sometimes. But Blake was such a good father. How could I wish to change that?”
“He was, wasn’t he?” Tears filled her eyes.
“Good husband, go
od father, good man.” Her mother wiped away a tear of her own. “How he’d laugh at us for sitting here crying over that!”
For a moment Libby could almost hear that hearty laugh, and it seemed to pierce her heart.
“I know. We won’t stop missing him,” her mother said softly.
“Yes, well.” Libby mopped her eyes. “About the job…maybe it had been coming on for a long time. Too many pictures of car wrecks and fires and shooting victims.”
Her mother clasped her hand. “That must have been especially hard for you. You’ve always been so sensitive to other people’s feelings.”
You’re like your mother, Rebecca had said. Maybe she was right.
“It all came to a head when the paper published a photo of a grieving mother. I’d asked them not to use that one. It was too intrusive. The editor told me I’d have to toughen up if I wanted to succeed. I decided that price was too steep.” She took a breath, realizing that a weight had lifted from her shoulders. “So here I am, ready to start over if I can just figure out what I’m meant to do.”
“Darling, you don’t have to decide right away, do you? I’d love to have you here forever.”
“I’ll stay for a good long visit,” she said, evading the question of her future. “But first, I have to move over to the Zook farm for a while, to help take care of Esther.”
Mom drew back, blue eyes troubled. “They’re sending her home already? But isn’t that dangerous? If there is someone after her—”
“I know. I tried to change Rebecca’s mind, but she wouldn’t hear of moving Esther to a rehab facility. She’s convinced Esther will do better at home.”
“That might be true,” her mother admitted. “She’s used to being surrounded by her family’s love and support. But she has to be kept safe.”
“Yes. They wouldn’t agree to have someone on guard at the farm. But Rebecca did say that I could stay. You understand, don’t you? Adam thought you would try to stop me, but I knew it was what you’d do in my place.”
Her mother pressed her lips together, as if holding back her first impulse. “You think you’ve outsmarted me, don’t you?”