by Marta Perry
Mary Ann smiled, blushing a little, and she touched Libby’s arm. “I am glad you are here.” She went out of the room and down the stairs, and Libby could hear her hushing the children as she went. Then a door closed, shutting off the daadi haus from the outside, and she was alone with one elderly woman and one helpless one.
Libby touched the quilt. Esther slept, more peacefully, it seemed, than she ever had in the hospital, lips still curved as if she knew where she was, even in her dreams.
Under other circumstances, Libby would agree that this was the best place for Esther to recover, surrounded by her family’s love. But these were not normal circumstances.
She moved to the window, orienting herself. The outbuildings were much the same as they’d always been—dairy barn, chicken house, toolshed, twin silos, stable and a few others she couldn’t immediately identify. Beyond the stable were the woods lifting to the ridge, much of which was state game land. It was beautiful and peaceful, but it was also very isolated, even though the main road wasn’t that far away.
She’d have to come up with some believable reason for going out to the stable to meet Adam every evening. Tonight, at least, she wouldn’t have anything to report.
Adjusting the shade, Libby moved to the rocking chair, but she felt too restless to sit. She should have thought to slip some books into her bag.
A pitcher sat on the bedside table, along with a glass and a straw, but the pitcher was empty. Mary Ann had probably intended to fill it with water. Picking it up, Libby headed softly to the stairs.
She’d nearly reached the bottom when a voice spoke. She stopped, startled, and then realized that Mary Ann and Isaac were still in the kitchen. It must have been the children she’d heard going out.
“Was ist letz?” Mary Ann asked. What’s wrong? The words weren’t intended for Libby’s ears. She obviously hadn’t heard Libby coming down.
Isaac said something she didn’t hear. She was about to say something, but his next words came loudly enough for her to hear. To translate and understand.
“…mistake to have her here, that’s certain sure. She might find out about it, and then where would we be?”
Libby froze, processing the words and the emotion that had underlaid them. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt in her mind that the “she” Isaac didn’t want here was herself. But what was it that she might find out about? And why did it upset him so much?
She moved silently back up the stairs. It looked as if she’d been wrong about one thing. She would have something to tell Adam tonight. She just didn’t know what it meant.
* * *
ADAM TURNED OFF the narrow blacktop road onto a gravel lane that was even narrower. As he’d told Libby he would, he drove his own dark compact, and in jeans, boots and a navy jacket he looked as far from being a cop as he could manage. He didn’t plan to be seen, but if he was, at least it wouldn’t look like an official call.
Slowing, Adam moved on, the lane narrowing until it wasn’t much more than the logging track it had once been. The car jolted to a stop at the last space wide enough to turn around. He got out, gripping a heavy flashlight. He’d have to use the light to get through the woods, but he’d make do without it as much as possible.
The snow cover lingered in patches here and there in the woods. He skirted what he could, not particularly eager to leave an obvious trail, and brushed his way through the mix of hemlock, pine and maples and around thick clumps of undergrowth where the trees weren’t thick enough to shade it out.
When he reached the narrow strip of cleared field behind the stable, he paused. The nearly full moon came out from behind a cloud, glistening on patches of snow. A yellow glow came from the windows of the farmhouse and from the second floor of the daadi haus, but otherwise there was no sign of life. It looked completely serene. He was losing his nerve, imagining danger here.
Finally, sure he couldn’t be seen from the house, he crossed to the stable, slid the door open just enough to slip inside and switched his torch on, covering the beam with his fingers so that the light leaked through.
Reassured by the quiet, he swung the light around. Several of the buggy horses moved, and one whickered softly. The huge pair of Percherons, in the farthest stalls, didn’t so much as flicker an eye.
He glanced toward the house. Right on time—the back door opened, and Libby’s figure in that red anorak was clearly visible. She turned, and her voice carried in the clear night. “I’ll just be a few minutes.” She closed the door and started across the lawn toward him, swinging a flashlight in her hand.
He stepped back a little as she entered, making sure that if anyone watched her from the window, he wouldn’t be seen.
“You made it.”
Libby set her flashlight down on a bale of straw and gave him a quick, preoccupied smile. “I’m here.”
“You’re sure no one’s going to come out after you?” He glanced toward the pale, narrow rectangle that marked the opening.
“I told them I was coming out to call my mother on the cell phone. No one questioned that.”
“No, I guess they wouldn’t.” He frowned, his worries renewed at the sight of her. “Maybe you ought to consider sleeping at home. You could just drive over during the day.”
He could see the set of her jaw even in the dim light at the admittedly stupid suggestion.
“What good would that do? Night is when she’s most vulnerable. But no one will get to Esther when I’m sleeping in the next bed.”
Not without silencing Libby first. Didn’t she realize that was what had him jumping at shadows?
“Libby—”
“Don’t waste time going over that again,” she interrupted. “I’m staying. Is anything new?”
He ought to have sense enough not to beat his head against a wall.
“Not much. I’m still trying to find someone who will talk about how Tom Sylvester got that zoning variance. And why Jason Smalley was so eager to see the investigation stopped.”
Libby tilted her head slightly, her hair moving, pale in the dim light. “Have you considered that Jason was just trying to assert himself with you? Lord it over you a bit that he’s a big deal township supervisor?” Her tone made it clear what she thought of that honor.
“No. I mean, in theory the township commissioners are responsible for the police, but in actual practice, the police department is autonomous. It wouldn’t be ethical to run it any other way.”
“I don’t mean the police,” Libby said. “I mean you personally. He’s always been jealous of you.”
For a moment he thought he’d heard her wrong. “Why would Jason be jealous of me?” For all his faults, Jason had had what Adam never did…a nice home, a father who put on a clean shirt and went to work every day, a mother who cooked his favorite meals.
“Because Jason was always a bully and a coward, and I don’t suppose that’s changed any. And because everyone knew you were…” She hesitated, as if searching for a word.
“Trouble?” he suggested. “From the wrong side of the tracks, if Springville had been big enough to have tracks?”
“No.” A quick step brought her closer to him. “Honorable. We might not have known the word then, but we knew what it meant.”
She’d taken his breath away, and he hadn’t thought anyone could do that.
He took his time responding, afraid of what his voice might give away. “Jason still likes to throw his weight around, that’s for sure. I still don’t see what his interest was in this particular investigation, though.”
“Neither do I,” she admitted. “But I’ve found out something.”
He raised an eyebrow in doubt, hoping she couldn’t see it in the dim light. “What?”
“I overheard Isaac saying something to Mary Ann. I guess they didn’t know I was there, and if they had, he probably wouldn’t have realized I could understand him. But the dialect has been coming back to me, and I’m sure of this.”
“You’re starting to sound like you
r mother, talking in circles,” he said. “What did Isaac say?”
And what could Esther’s brother know about the situation anyway?
“Mary Ann seemed to be telling him not to worry. And he said something to the effect of not wanting to have me here, because if I found out about it, I would cause trouble. Those aren’t the exact words, but close enough.”
“What was this ‘it’ that you might find out about?”
“I don’t know.” She sounded as if she hated to admit that. “He didn’t say, but he certainly sounded worried.”
“You can’t imagine Isaac would have anything to do with harming his sister.” He grappled with it, trying to think of a scenario that fit the words.
“No, of course not. But there’s definitely something wrong. Something that’s worrying Isaac, and probably Mary Ann, as well.”
“Funny,” he murmured.
“I don’t see anything funny about it.”
“Not that way. Funny peculiar. I had a talk with Bishop Amos. He gave me the impression there’s some sort of problem in the Amish community. He wouldn’t talk about it, but…”
“But it might concern Isaac,” she finished, jumping ahead to a conclusion.
“We don’t know that.” He’d like to damper her enthusiasm, but he doubted that was possible.
“We don’t know it yet, but I’m going to find out.” She reached for the flashlight.
The determination in her voice filled him with foreboding, and he caught her hand before she could pick the torch up and run off.
“Take it easy,” he said. “You can’t rush in there and start prying. That would be a quick ticket out of here.” Although come to think of it, that might suit him.
They stood facing each other, linked by his fingers clasping her wrist. The air seemed to thicken, pressing him closer to her.
Libby gave a quick shake of her head. “I’ll be tactful,” she said. She picked up the flashlight. “And careful. You don’t need to tell me that.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” He tried to keep it light. He had to, because otherwise… “I’ll be here tomorrow night. Meantime I’ll see if I can pick up any rumors about Isaac.”
“Wait until I get inside before you go.” Libby moved to the door. “Isaac might be watching for me, and we don’t want him to think I’m meeting a boyfriend out here.”
She was gone on the words, and he watched her cross the lawn and disappear into the house.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE FOLLOWING MORNING passed uneventfully for Libby, so uneventfully that she almost began to long for something to happen, no matter what. She found herself thinking of Adam too often for her peace of mind, and when she managed to push him to the back of her thoughts, she’d start worrying about the investigation.
Enough, she scolded herself. She had to learn to immerse herself in the activity of the moment, the way the Amish did. Right now, that activity was brushing Esther’s hair gently, avoiding the injured area, and putting in the loose braid she’d worn since the accident.
“The physical therapist will be here soon.” Libby realized she’d been quiet too long. They all made an effort to talk to Esther as much as possible. “I’d better get your hair finished.”
Esther caught at her hand, frowning a little as she struggled to form a word. “Dress,” she said finally. She pointed to the wooden pegs on which her clothing hung. “Dress.”
“That’s right,” Mary Ann said, coming in just in time to hear and exchanging pleased smiles with Libby. Every new word was an occasion to celebrate.
But Esther shook her head impatiently. She tugged at the nightgown she wore. “Dress,” she said firmly, leaving no doubt as to what she meant.
Libby grinned. “Okay, okay, we get it. You want to be properly dressed when the therapist gets here.”
It was easier said than done, since Esther still didn’t have much control of one side, but with the three of them working, they managed. Until they reached the straight pins that fastened the front of an Amish woman’s dress.
Esther’s fingers didn’t work well enough, Libby had never done it, and Mary Ann, who could do it in seconds on her own dress, was all thumbs trying to do someone else’s. All three of them were weak with laughter when they finally accomplished it.
“Ach, I haven’t laughed so much since I was home with my sisters,” Mary Ann said, still chuckling as she placed Esther’s kapp on the back of her head. “What about you, Libby?”
“I only had brothers, and usually they were trying to get me to stop pestering them.” Libby held the hand mirror so that Esther could see herself. “There, you look like a proper Amish woman, see?”
Esther smiled at the image. Then she raised her hand and touched the fading bruise on her forehead. “How?”
Libby glanced at Mary Ann. It was the first time Esther had raised the subject of her injuries. They’d agreed not to bring it up until she did. Libby had had to acquiesce, even though she thought Esther might be safer if and when she did remember.
“You had an accident,” Mary Ann said, her tone soothing. “You’re getting better now.”
Esther’s frown lingered, and Libby held her breath. If she remembered—
“Hello.” The therapist’s cheerful voice sounded up the stairwell. “Ready for me? I’m coming up.”
Esther’s frown vanished, and with it probably any faint memory of what happened to her. Libby’s clenched her hands in frustration. But there’d be another time. There had to be.
The physical therapist from home health services was young, cheerful and relentless. So tall his curly red hair nearly brushed the door frame of the upstairs rooms, Keith Longman combined a gentle touch with an optimistic determination to get the best from every session.
The next half hour was strenuous enough to tire all of them. At the end of it, Esther was clearly ready for a nap, but she was smiling. She had actually stood and taken a couple of steps with help.
“Excellent job.” Keith handed Libby the soft balls he’d had Esther squeezing. “Add this to the routine every day. It will help with that left hand.”
She nodded. “Will do. Anything else?”
“Just keep it up.” His glance took in all three of them. “You’re doing a great job. At this rate, Esther will be outside planting a garden come spring.”
“Ach, that’s gut to hear.” Mary Ann spread a quilt over Esther. “Ain’t so, Esther?”
But Esther’s eyes were already drifting shut. Libby resigned herself to waiting for another opportunity to lead the conversation toward the accident.
“I’ll walk down with you.” She followed the therapist toward the stairs, waiting until she thought they were out of earshot to continue. “Esther really is doing well, isn’t she? None of us know quite what to expect from her recovery.”
“Nobody knows that with head injuries,” he said bluntly. “But she’s doing very well physically. Much better than her physician initially thought she would. She was very fit before the accident, and that helps. And she has a great attitude and lots of support. You can’t ask for much more than that.”
Libby nodded. She was beginning to think Keith had more maturity than his boyish grin would indicate. “What about her mental recovery? How much might she remember?”
“About the accident, you mean?”
She nodded. She was probably being too obvious, but this was important for reasons Keith couldn’t know.
“That’s hard to say. Some head injury patients never recall the trauma, and maybe that’s a blessing. But it could return at any time. You just have to keep reassuring her and answering any questions she asks.”
She nodded, knowing she couldn’t expect more than his honest opinion. “She brought it up this morning, asking how she got the bruise on her head.”
“Natural enough.” He reached for the door and paused, hand on the knob. “Well, she’s sure got a lot of people pulling for her. Even people who aren’t Amish. There was a gu
y at the coffee shop this morning asking how she was doing and if she remembered the accident. He seemed to know where I was coming.”
Libby’s heart seemed to skip a beat. “What coffee shop?”
“The one right in Springville. I was running a bit early, so I stopped for a cup of coffee.” He grinned. “And a sticky bun, I confess.” He patted his flat stomach.
“I don’t think you need to worry.” She gave the expected answer. “But this man—what did he look like?” That sounded too blunt, and she tried to qualify it. “I mean, he’s probably someone we know, so I’ll mention his concern to Esther.”
“Youngish,” Keith said. “Maybe thirty. Well dressed. Looked like a businessman, I’d say.”
Jason Smalley fit that description. Of course, a few other people in Springville did, including her brothers. “What did you tell him?”
“Just something vague and polite. I don’t discuss my patients. Is something going on I should know about?” His glance was suddenly shrewd.
Now it was her turn to be vague. “The accident was a hit-and-run, and the police still haven’t identified the driver. It’s just as well to be careful.”
“Gotcha. Nobody will get anything from me.” He pulled the door open. “Keep up the good work. Your friend’s relying on you.”
That was more serious than he realized, Libby thought, her mind busy with the ramifications of what the therapist had told her. Natural enough, she supposed, that someone in the coffee shop would assume, seeing the logo on Keith’s jacket, that he was coming here. Natural enough to ask how Esther was or to express good wishes. But to ask specifically if she remembered? That wasn’t quite so natural.
She went through the enclosed porch between the main house and the daadi haus, intending to let Rebecca know they were finished with the therapy. Rebecca had been happy to turn the exercises over to Libby and Mary Ann, since the prospect of pushing Esther to do more than was comfortable brought Rebecca to tears.