“You’re saying you believe he did this?”
“I’m saying he might have convinced himself it was okay. I don’t know. Sometimes what a person is capable of will surprise you.”
“Have you been to see him?”
His mammi shook her head once, and that was the end of the conversation. She turned and walked back into the house, leaving Susannah standing there and wondering what to do next.
Visiting Deborah didn’t go much better.
“He didn’t do this, Deborah. I know he didn’t.”
Deborah held up her hands in surrender. “I don’t want to believe it, either.”
“He didn’t do it.”
“You said he’s been out late a lot.”
“So what?”
“So four other stores have been robbed in the last two weeks.”
“What? And you think he did that? You think Micah was traveling up and down Goshen knocking over stores? Why would he even do such a thing?”
“You’re the one who said that he has a plan. Didn’t he say if it worked, he would have financial resources?”
“Which could mean a lot of other things besides robbery.”
Deborah stopped separating dollar bills in the cash drawer of her family’s vegetable stand. She walked around the table and put her arms around Susannah, who had determined she would not cry. She was not going to cry about Micah, because he did not do this.
“Have you tried to see him?”
“I have.” She brushed her sleeves across her eyes.
“And?”
“He saw me the first time—that was yesterday. Told me that he didn’t do this, and that he would be out by the weekend, so I should have the fishing poles ready.”
“Maybe he will. Maybe he is innocent. I’m just so sorry you’re going through this.”
“Then he asked me not to come back.”
Deborah stepped back, hands still on Susannah’s shoulders, as if she needed to get a better look at her best friend’s face. “Why would he say that?”
“Because he said that without an alibi...” The tears resumed streaming down her face. “Without an alibi, they just might pin this on him, and there wasn’t anything he could, or would, do about it.”
“All right. So we know where to start.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re going to see him again this afternoon. Didn’t you say the judge is in court tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“So go to him today. Go now. It’s important that you see him before he appears before the judge.”
“What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say?”
“You’re going to convince him to explain where he was and who he was with.”
Chapter Eleven
Micah didn’t look up when he heard the guard open the outer door. Whoever was in the cell at the end of the hall had a large family. They’d all come to see him. He couldn’t hear much of what they said, but what he did hear was like a knife in his gut.
“We know you didn’t do this.”
“We’re going to get you out.”
“Dad’s working on the bail money.”
“Mom knows a guy who knows a guy who’s a lawyer.”
Whoever that person was had a very engaged family—a family who believed in his innocence. Micah didn’t know if the person was guilty or innocent, but he did know that he was a lucky man to have so many people on his side.
Only two people had come to visit Micah.
His bishop.
And his girlfriend.
He hadn’t seen or heard from his grandparents.
He’d used his one phone call for the bishop, so he hadn’t spoken to his parents, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. What could he tell them? How could he explain this situation that threatened to change the course of the rest of his life?
And then the scent of rose lotion pulled him away from his dark thoughts.
If anything, Susannah looked prettier than the day he’d seen her standing by the mailbox with Sharon and Shiloh. She wore a light blue frock and a white apron and, of course, the ever-present white kapp.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Just remembering the first time I saw you without that kapp on.”
“Five minutes,” Officer Wright said. He offered to bring Susannah a chair, but she shook her head no and thanked him.
“Why did you come back?”
“Because I needed to see you.” She pulled in her bottom lip, and he knew that she was fighting back tears, which caused his defenses to crumble.
He stared at the ceiling, and when he looked at her again, he’d regained control of his emotions. It wasn’t that he was afraid of crying in front of her. He wasn’t one of those guys who believed that men shouldn’t ever show their emotions. It was more that he felt if he let go of the reins that were holding them in, he might never regain control again.
“Things were going too well,” he whispered.
“What things?”
He only shook his head.
“Come over here.”
Micah could hear the trembling in her voice, and it nearly undid him. He closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them she was still there.
“If you are going to do this to yourself, to us, then you owe me this much. Come over here and look me in the eye.”
“I can’t tell you where I was. I—”
“You can’t tell the judge. I know. You said that before. But if you can’t tell me the when or where, then you can at least tell me the why.”
So he stood and walked to where she was waiting. They weren’t supposed to touch. The poster on the wall proclaimed that rule loud and clear. But then Micah had never been good at following the rules. Susannah’s hands were wrapped around the cell’s bars. He ever so gently wrapped his hands around hers, figuring they had one minute, maybe two, before one of the officers came busting through reminding them to stand three feet apart.
“Tell me why.” Her voice was soft, and when he looked in her eyes he saw a whole world of hurt.
But he also saw something else... He knew that she trusted him or at least she wanted to.
“I can’t tell you where I was...”
The rattle of keys at the end of the hall told him the officer was coming through.
“I can’t tell because I promised I wouldn’t. I gave my word, Susannah. And what kind of man would I be if I couldn’t keep my word? You deserve better than that.”
She swiped at her eyes. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Ya. Okay.”
The officer separated them before either could say anything more, but what Micah saw before she walked away almost sent him to his knees because it wasn’t judgment or disappointment or anger—it was love.
* * *
Micah stood in a type of waiting room next to his court-appointed lawyer. The man was definitely under thirty years old, and he looked as if he’d slept as little as Micah had. When Micah had refused to give an alibi, he’d only asked, “You’re sure?” When Micah confirmed that he was very sure, the man—Rafael Rodriguez—had grinned and said, “Chances are you’re going away to prison, but we’re going to make them earn it.”
He opened the door, and they walked into the main courtroom.
The judge had apparently been working for several hours already. He glanced at the clock, as if he was wondering whether he could take a lunch break. The man was in charge, wasn’t he? Couldn’t he just order the court adjourned? Or perhaps Micah was remembering the single court scene he’d watched on television wrong.
Judge Johnson was older, white haired, and Micah could tell in a second that he did not suffer fools.
The bailiff called Micah’s case, and he and Rafael walked forward to stand before t
he judge.
It was a moment that Micah understood he wouldn’t forget if he lived to be a hundred. It was surreal, standing there before a man who had the power to free or imprison him. There was a spiritual lesson here that wasn’t lost on him—the power of forgiveness and the sacrifice of Christ standing before the one and true God. He’d heard it preached often, but at that moment, he felt it clean through to his soul.
“Mr. Rodriguez, does your client still refuse to provide an alibi?”
“He does.”
“Mr. Fisher, you are charged with aggravated burglary.” Rafael had explained that aggravated meant he had a weapon—in this case, a crowbar that could be seen in the video and was used to break the lock on the front door. “How do you plead?”
“I plead not guilty, Your Honor.”
Rafael had told him what to say word for word. They’d even practiced.
“I assume you still have no means to post bail.”
“That’s correct, Your Honor.”
“Then I have no choice but to remand you to the Elkhart County Jail until...” He must have consulted a calendar, because he picked up some half-glasses, perched them on his nose and stared down at something. “Looks like it’ll be July 18 before you can have a jury of your peers.”
He took the glasses off and looked at Micah—really looked at him—for the first time.
“Mr. Fisher, you’re certain that you want to remain behind bars until that time?”
“I don’t see as I have a choice, Your Honor.”
“You most certainly do. If you can prove that you weren’t the person in the video...”
“Objection, Your Honor. The accused is not required to prove his innocence, but rather—”
“I know the law, Mr. Rodriguez.” Johnson shook his head as if he needed to rid himself of a pesky fly. “I’ve seen the video, and I have to say that the evidence here is strong. Strong enough to hold Mr. Fisher over for a trial.”
“You can’t know that’s him.”
“That will have to be proved at the trial. Until then...” He raised his gavel to strike it against the desk when someone spoke up from the back of the room.
“I can provide Micah with an alibi.”
Relief washed over Micah in that moment because he knew that voice. His legs felt suddenly wobbly and his hands shook so that he had to clasp them together.
Rodriguez stepped closer and said, “Steady there. Don’t faint on me, Fisher.”
But Micah understood what Rafael Rodriguez and Judge Johnson couldn’t—what they would very soon know. Micah understood that this nightmare was over, and that he’d be able to go home.
* * *
Thomas walked on one side of him, Susannah on the other, as Micah left the Goshen Municipal Jail.
“How about we have some lunch before we go home?” Thomas nodded at a coffee shop across the street.
Susannah squeezed his hand. “We heard the food wasn’t so good in there.”
“You heard right. I’m starved.”
They ordered hamburgers, fries and shakes before they got down to business.
“Levi Hochstettler?” Susannah was sitting across from him. No doubt she wanted to be able to look into his eyes while he explained the last few weeks. “You were with Levi? I wasn’t aware you even knew him.”
After thanking the waitress for the shakes she left on their table, Thomas asked, “And why was that so hard to admit?”
“The first time I picked up Levi for a ride, he had me drop him at this old barn over on the east side of town. It was an Englischer’s place, from the look of it.”
“What was he doing there?”
“Rebuilding the engine on a 1956 Mercedes.”
“Levi always was gut with small engines,” Thomas said.
Susannah leaned forward. “And you helped him?”
“Not at first, but after the third ride, he figured he could trust me.” Micah had already consumed half of his shake. He didn’t realize how bad jail food was until he was a free man and eating good food again. “I did some engine repair up in Maine, so I offered to lend a hand. This was last week, the same week that my business first got off the ground.”
“This is why you’ve been so tired.”
“I knew I was stretching it—burning the candle at both ends as the old folks say—but it seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up.”
Thomas grunted, but he didn’t interrupt.
“So I was helping Thomas in the morning, running my buggy service in the afternoon and helping Levi at night. We were about halfway through with the rebuild...”
“And then?” Susannah was twirling her kapp string, completely engrossed in his story.
“Then Levi found a buyer. An Englisch guy who was willing to pay top dollar.”
“Which was, no doubt, a lot of money.”
“It was, and the Englischer put down a deposit, so we knew he was good for it. But the problem was that he needed it for some race this weekend.”
“A race?”
“Some race with old cars. They give you a map at the last minute. I didn’t really understand that part.”
“The Great American Race.” Thomas smiled when they both turned to stare at him. “I’m a bishop, but I’m still a man. This race has been around since the eighties.”
The waitress brought their food, and for the next few minutes, no one spoke as Micah made up for lost calories. When he finally pushed back his plate, Susannah and her father shared a smile.
“Don’t say it, Dat.”
“Growing boy needs his food.”
They all laughed, and it felt good. Micah wanted to pull Susannah into his arms. He wanted to thank her for standing by him, but he understood that doing so in the middle of a burger joint in front of her father probably wasn’t a great idea.
“So the Englischer needed the car fast. He was willing to pay good money and Levi was willing to share what he made.” Susannah shook her head. “What are you not saying?”
“Levi’s parents.” The bishop ran his fingers through his beard.
“Exactly.” Micah took up the story. “Levi’s parents are quite strict. They were already unhappy that he was working on car engines.”
“I’ve talked to them about that,” Thomas said. “Levi is good with his hands, good at fixing things. If he’d been born Englisch, there’s no doubt he would have been an engineer of some sort. It seemed to me that allowing him to use those talents in a way that was acceptable would solve the problem.”
“But it didn’t?” Susannah had pushed her plate away and was again leaning forward, no doubt ready to pull the rest of the story out of him.
“I’m only sharing this because Levi told me as we left the courtroom that I should tell you everything.” He glanced at Susannah but directed the next part to the bishop. “He’s thinking of leaving the faith. Well, not leaving exactly. He has an onkel who is Mennonite and has a shop in Ohio. Says he can give Levi all the work he needs. But he insisted that if Levi really wanted to do it, then he would have to save the money for the bus fare as well as a deposit on a place to live. They have eight young ones, so there’s no room at their house.”
“But if he could sell the Mercedes...”
“Then he’d have enough money to go.” Micah finally pushed away his plate. “He’s going to come and talk to you tomorrow.”
Thomas nodded as if that settled things.
“Okay.” Susannah held up her left hand and began counting off points. “You were helping Levi. He was sharing the profits with you. You were definitely not in Widow Miller’s buggy, and you did not rob the store...”
“I never doubted that,” Thomas said.
“Why couldn’t you just explain that to the judge?”
“Because I promised Levi I wouldn’t tell. I gave him my word
that I would not be the one to tell his parents. He wanted to do it, in his own way, in his own time.”
“You didn’t want him to get in trouble? You were willing to go to jail for that?”
Micah didn’t answer right away. When he looked at Susannah and Thomas, at these two people who had come to mean so much to him, he knew that he could be completely honest.
“I’ve been on the outside most of my life. I’m not really sure why. Rebellious nature that needs taming, or maybe...maybe I hadn’t met the right person who could settle me down.” He paused and looked directly at Susannah—smiled and resumed his story. “I know what it’s like to walk a tightrope at home, and how important it is to have one person who you can trust with your real self, with who you really are. You two have been that for me, and I have been that for Levi. It was important for me to honor that commitment.”
“When Levi stood up for you in court, when he provided your alibi, he also put himself on the line with his parents.”
“Exactly.”
“You know, Micah. The one thing that you can give and still keep is your word. It seems to me that you showed maturity and wisdom today.”
Which seemed to settle the matter as far as Susannah and Thomas were concerned. Micah didn’t know what would happen when he went home to his grandparents.
And he certainly didn’t know who had stolen Widow Miller’s buggy and broken into the general store, but he did know that it wasn’t him, and that it was time to do what Levi was doing. It was time to stand up and be true to who he was. He would probably never be a traditional Amish person, but he loved his faith and he had the support of the bishop for his Amish buggy service. If that wasn’t good enough for his grandparents, then perhaps it was time he accepted he was bound to disappoint some of the people who meant the most to him.
Their disappointment might hurt, but it wouldn’t change who he was.
* * *
Micah stared at his daddi in disbelief. “You can’t make me do that.”
“You’re right. I can’t. However, I can issue an ultimatum.”
“An ultimatum?”
“Ya, for sure and certain.”
An Unlikely Amish Match Page 15