by Beth Wiseman
Irma Rose leaned forward in her chair, frowning. “What did you do?” She’d only known one Amish person who’d gone to jail, and it had been a case of mistaken identity. “Do they think you are someone else?” Hope filled her at the thought, until Jonas shook his head. “Then what?” She raised her shoulders, left them there, then let them fall when Jonas looked away.
Jonas scratched his scruffy chin, squinting. “If I tell you, you gotta promise not to get mad.”
“I won’t get angry,” she said quickly, hoping it was a promise she’d be able to keep.
“Well . . .” He cringed. “There’s this guy named Lucas. He’s Englisch.” Jonas paused and locked eyes with Irma Rose, as if waiting for a reaction. Irma Rose knew Englisch people, so this didn’t seem odd. “He’s a fine Christian. A gut man. He’s about my age, maybe a year older, maybe twenty or so.”
Irma Rose let out an exaggerated sigh. “And . . .”
“And he’s got this car, a Chevy 210 Delrey.” He paused, the familiar half grin returning. “And it’s real fast, Irma Rose. He special ordered it; it’s a powerful machine. I’ve watched him race it before at a little place on the outskirts of Paradise.” His smile grew. “And he was going to race it against Andy Smith. I don’t expect you to know him. Smith is a common name, but anyway . . . Andy has a Pontiac Bonneville, and it’s fast, too, and . . .”
“Jonas!” Irma Rose slammed a palm on the table. “Did you hear that man say we only have ten minutes?”
Jonas lost his animated expression right away. “Lucas was racing Andy, and Andy asked me if I wanted to ride along. And I did. The police came. I didn’t know there was beer in the back of Lucas’s car. I got arrested because I’m underage and drag racing. And here I am.” He shrugged before a big smile filled his face. “Remember, you said you wouldn’t be mad.”
Irma Rose slowly lifted herself out of the chair and raised her chin, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not mad, Jonas. I am disappointed in you. Your mother is in the hospital. You’ve left poor Elizabeth by herself tending to the house and your younger sisters. All because of your silliness with things that go fast. You are irresponsible. Couldn’t you have just paid a fine?”
“The fine is over a hundred dollars. I can’t get that kind of money, and I didn’t want to worry Mamm while she’s in the hospital. They told me I could go to jail for two weeks instead. So that’s what I decided to do. I know Mamm will find out when she gets home and I’m not there, but I didn’t want this news to hinder her recovery. I figured she’d be home by now. And I talked to Elizabeth about it. She said she’d have no problem handling everything.” He paused, searching her eyes for approval, but Irma Rose just looked away, knowing she had to tell him the truth. “The other guys chose to pay the fine,” he added.
“Elizabeth is having a very hard time. The children are all fine, but it’s a lot of work. She’s very tired. And the house . . .” She chewed on her bottom lip, not sure how much more to say. It wouldn’t change the situation. “I will help Elizabeth until you are freed. Annie and Mae are still going to Bible school at the Stoltzfuses’ haus in the mornings.”
“I will make this up to you, Irma Rose. I don’t know how, but I will. Tell Elizabeth I’m so sorry.”
She rolled her eyes as Jonas stood up. “I have to go.” She turned toward the glass window, wondering if people were listening to their conversation or just watching them. She turned back to Jonas. “We are not going to tell anyone about this.” She hurried to the door, leaving the box of whoopie pies on the table.
“Irma Rose?”
She waited while Jonas walked toward her. He stopped in front of her, and she dabbed her forehead with a sweaty hand, despite the coolness in the room. “What?”
“Everything that happens is God’s will, part of His plan.”
Irma Rose grunted. “Jonas, I can’t think of one reason why the Lord would have you leave your family in a time of need because you did something stupid. God also gives us free will to make gut choices.”
Jonas nodded toward the table. “Danki for the whoopie pies. The food isn’t gut here.”
“At least you have air conditioning.” Irma Rose lifted an eyebrow before she moved toward the door. She knocked just as someone was pulling the door open.
“I told the kid to just pay the fine,” the young man dressed in the black uniform said. “Seems weird to be holding one of your kind in the county jail.”
Irma Rose lifted her chin and brushed past him, wondering how she was going to keep this secret without telling a lie. And when did it become her responsibility to clean up Jonas Miller’s messes? But that’s what she was going to do. By the time she returned to the Miller farm later that day, she had come up with a plan.
Elizabeth and Missy greeted her at the door, and even though there was a hint of lemon cleaner in the air, a pungent smell hit Irma Rose as she stepped over the threshold. “Elizabeth . . .” Irma Rose sniffed the air. “What is that smell?”
Missy ran to a pile of faceless dolls in the corner. She had them all sitting in a circle. Next to the dolls was a replica of a Captain Kangaroo Tasket Basket, a box filled with different-shaped blocks that fit into the shaped holes. Irma Rose had seen the toy in an Englisch store display. Although this model didn’t have the words Captain Kangaroo etched into the side of the box. She wondered if Jonas had made it for Missy.
But before she could mention it, Elizabeth motioned for Irma Rose to follow her to the kitchen. “Missy, we’ll be in the kitchen. You stay in here with your dolls.”
“Missy had an accident,” Elizabeth whispered. “That’s never happened until this past week. It’s happened four times since Jonas has been gone. I just cleaned her up. I didn’t realize the smell was lingering.” She walked to the open window in the kitchen and raised it even higher. “Sorry.”
Irma Rose leaned against the kitchen counter. “I’m sure Missy is wondering about Jonas and also worrying about your mother.”
“I’ve been taking Missy to the hospital when Mae and Annie are at Bible class. I thought it would help her to see Mamm, but sometimes they are drawing blood while we’re there, or Mamm looks like she might be having some pain. On those days, Missy seems scared. I was trying not to disrupt Annie and Mae’s schedule any more than I had to, but I guess I need one of them to stay home with Missy while I visit Mamm.”
Irma Rose tapped a finger to her chin. “Okay. Here’s what we will do. I will come over at eight o’clock each morning. I can tidy things up and do some baking while you go visit your mother. Unless it upsets Missy even more not to go to the hospital, she can stay here with me while you’re gone.”
Elizabeth gave her a blank stare. “Why are you doing this?”
Irma Rose was surprised that no one in their community had offered to help Elizabeth, but then, folks didn’t know that Jonas was away. “Because I want to help your family.”
“But you . . .” Elizabeth paused, biting her lip. “You don’t really know us all that gut. I mean, we’ve grown up in the same place, but we haven’t been around each other very much.”
Irma Rose had been asking herself the same question. “You need help, and since I’m an only child, it doesn’t take nearly as much work to run our household. Mamm will be fine if I’m gone part of each day.”
“That’s nice of you.” Elizabeth smiled. “Jonas was right.”
Irma Rose suddenly felt warm all over as she raised an eyebrow and tried to appear casual. “About what?”
“He said that you are loving and kind, that you are gut with children, and that you go out of your way to help others.”
Irma Rose felt her face reddening as she shook her head. “Ach, I don’t know
how he knows all that.”
“But he does!” Elizabeth stood taller, smiling. “Anytime he talks about you to others, he tells stories. One is about the time you went to Widow Zook’s haus every Monday for six months to do her laundry.” Elizabeth chuckled. “And we all know Widow Zook is a bit cranky.” She lifted a finger. “Ach, and he also tells people about the baby bunnies you found, how you hand-fed each of them with a bottle. And . . .”
Irma Rose was hearing part of Elizabeth’s recollections, but mostly she was thinking about Jonas. How irresponsible and reckless he could be, how he always smelled of cigars—how he just wasn’t right for her. Maybe she needed to give Jake another chance, though she really didn’t want to. Or maybe Isaac? She focused on Elizabeth again when she heard her name.
“Danki again, Irma Rose.”
“You’re welcome. But there is one more thing.” She paused. “We don’t want to lie, but we don’t want people around here to know about Jonas going to jail. We need to say something that is truthful, but also keeps his whereabouts a secret.”
“What about ‘Jonas is away on business’? I heard an Englisch man say that once.” Elizabeth smiled from ear to ear. It was the first time Irma Rose noticed how much Elizabeth looked like her brother.
“Then that’s what we will say. ‘Jonas is away on business.’ ”
Irma Rose wasn’t sure that was the best solution, especially since Jonas’s “business” was farming, but she couldn’t come up with anything better.
Chapter Six
IRMA ROSE’S MOTHER PUT A LOAF OF CINNAMON-RAISIN bread in the bag that Irma Rose was taking to Elizabeth the following morning.
“It’s nice what you are doing for the Millers, going there to babysit Missy and help tend to the house. I suspected it might be too large a job for Elizabeth and those younger girls. Is Jonas helping out inside while his mother is away?”
Irma Rose swallowed hard, putting the plan to the test. A plan that now seemed ridiculous. “Jonas is away on business.”
Mamm scratched her forehead. “What kind of business would take him away?” She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her apron, frowning. “The Millers make a living working the land.”
Irma Rose stared at her mother, determined not to lie. She snapped her finger. “Oops. I forgot something upstairs.” She left the room and darted up the stairs, hoping that by the time she returned, her mother would have forgotten the question. This is going to get tiresome. She grabbed her small black pocketbook, thankful she really had forgotten something. She wasn’t going to let Jonas’s shenanigans shove her into a pit of lies.
“So, what kind of business?” Mamm asked the moment Irma Rose walked back into the kitchen.
“Just business. Bye!” She grabbed the bag, kissed her mother on the cheek, and didn’t look back as the screen door closed behind her.
Jonas stared at the pale yellow blob on the plate in front of him. He’d never missed his mother’s cooking more than right now. He pushed the food around with a plastic fork, afraid to taste it, but too hungry not to give it a try. It resembled eggs but didn’t look like any he’d ever seen. Up until now, his breakfasts in the jailhouse had consisted of either half-frozen waffles or a bowl of mushy cereal. His mother made the best dippy eggs cooked over easy, but these were overcooked, bland, and tasted old. Jonas loved the eggs they had at home with dark-yellow yolks fresh from their hens.
He forced himself to swallow, then eyed the only other offering on his plate, a piece of toast that was burnt, no jam or butter. He wished he hadn’t forgotten to grab the box of whoopie pies Irma Rose brought yesterday. The guard confessed that he and two other men ate them. After a few more bites, he set the plate on the floor beside one of the cots in his cell. He picked up the Bible he’d asked for when he first arrived, and he gave the next hour to God. He was closing the Good Book when he heard a commotion down the hall. Lots of screaming and carrying on. He stood up when the same guard, whom he now knew as Peter, stopped at Jonas’s cell, toting a young man in handcuffs.
“Jonas Miller, meet Theodore Von Minden the third, your new roommate.” Peter unlocked the cell and the man’s cuffs, then gave him a gentle push before locking them both in. Jonas closed his Bible, stood up, and waited for the man to stop screaming and cursing at the guard. Finally, Theodore turned to face Jonas. He threw his hands up in the air.
“You have got to be kidding me!” He spun around, grabbed the metal rails, and shook them. “Hey! I can tell by this guy’s stupid haircut that he’s Amish. You can’t leave me in here with this religious freak!”
Peter strolled back up to the cell, grinning. “Oh, I can, and I am. Now quit all the yelling and screaming. There’s a price to pay for that, so shut your mouth. Even your rich daddy can’t help you now.”
Jonas didn’t move. Theodore yelled a string of curse words as Peter walked away. After he appeared to have exhausted himself, he hung his head, then seemed to remember that Jonas was in the cell with him.
“What are you looking at?”
Swallowing hard, Jonas had a better understanding of why his people tried to stay away from the Englisch. Jonas had heard curse words before, but never so many of them strung together at one time. He shrugged, towering over Theodore. “Just wondering if anyone tended to your wound.” Jonas pointed to a trail of blood running down the side of Theodore’s face from his eyebrow. His blond hair was cut short, parted to the side, and shone with a mixture of hair gel and dried blood. He was short and skinny and wore the same kind of orange slacks and pants as Jonas. Except Theodore was wearing a pair of fancy tan loafers.
Theodore reached up and touched his head, cringing and cursing again. Then he walked over to the only other cot in the room and sat down. “Do me a favor, will you?”
Jonas nodded. “Ya. How can I help?”
Theodore pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it against his head. “Do me a favor,” he repeated in a strained voice. “Just don’t talk to me.”
Jonas sat down on his cot, picked up his Bible, and started reading, seriously wishing he’d had enough money to pay his fine. He wasn’t sleeping. The food was terrible. And using the toilet in the corner was humiliating. Now he’d have to share this space with an irritable young Englisch man. He buried his head in the Book, but he could feel Theodore’s eyes blazing a hole through him.
“It amazes me how you people buy into that bunch of bull.”
Jonas didn’t look up until Theodore sprang from the bed and knocked the Bible from Jonas’s hands, causing it to fly across the cell. Jonas stood up and clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the urge to smack the guy. It wasn’t their way, but . . . Give me strength, Lord. He calmly went and picked up the Bible, returned to the cot, and flipped the pages to find where he’d left off, this time keeping a tighter grip on the book. Theodore stood in front of him, and Jonas braced himself. When Theodore’s arm swept down in front of him again, this time Jonas latched onto his wrist.
“Don’t do that.” Jonas let his eyes slowly drift upward until they were locked with his new cell mate’s.
“Or what? You gonna hit me?” Theodore grinned. “Your people don’t do that. I grew up in Pennsylvania. There isn’t much I don’t know about your kind.” He wiggled loose of Jonas’s hold. “So, what are you going to do?”
Jonas’s blood was boiling as he stood up, and once again he asked the Lord for strength. “You might have grown up here, but you don’t know everything about our kind. And you don’t know me.” Jonas said it with just enough intent to hopefully confuse the guy, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Theodore went back to his cot and sat down. Like dogs marking our territories, Jonas thought briefly. He set the Bible on the floor, then lay down, not completely sure that
Theodore wouldn’t start pushing him for a fight again. Jonas had only been in a fight one time, and it had been with another Amish boy when they were both about ten years old. Amos King wouldn’t stop pulling Mary’s hair that day, and eventually Jonas had shoved him, which led to a full-blown fight on the playground. Jonas was pretty sure that’s when Mary developed a crush on him. It had won Jonas a trip to the woodshed when he got home. He’d endure a hundred trips to the woodshed for spanking just to have his father back. He sighed, knowing Daed would be disappointed in him for being here. Like Irma Rose.
A few minutes later Theodore spoke again. “So, what are you in for? It’s not every day you see an Amish man in jail.”
Jonas opened his eyes. “Drag racing and alcohol in the car.”
Theodore burst out laughing. “Well, ain’t that something.”
Jonas closed his eyes again but finally asked, “What about you?”
“I robbed an old lady and stole her purse. She beat me over the head with her cane, thus the blood.”
Jonas sat up and stared at Theodore, wondering how he was going to keep from hitting this guy. It must have shown on his face.
“Relax, fellow . . .” Theodore held up a palm toward Jonas. “I’m just joking.” He shook his head, frowning. “Man, I have some issues, but I would never rob anyone, especially an old woman.” He grunted. “Yet you believed me.” He pointed a finger at Jonas. “And you know why? Because that’s the way we are. Humans believe the worst about each other. People at their core are untrusting, selfish, and mean. Even if we really aren’t like that, people will just assume it. So you’re doomed from the start.” He pressed the rag to his head again, scowling.
“I believed you because you said it was so.” Jonas wasn’t sure what to say as he recalled Jesus saying that the truth will set us free.
Theodore grinned but shook his head.
Jonas wasn’t sure the truth was going to set this guy free, but he owed it to Theodore—and God—to try to educate Theodore. “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Scripture doesn’t say anything about people being born untrusting, selfish, and mean.”