Piecing It All Together

by Leslie Gould

  I wasn’t sure what to say in return, so I settled on, “Mine too.”

  When he didn’t say anything more, I said, “I’m going to go ahead and call Deputy Rogers.” He didn’t pick up, so I left a message.

  We were back on I-80, headed toward South Bend, when the deputy called back. I explained what we’d found out and the two possibilities where Miriam was headed. “She did leave on her own volition. So Tommy is free to go, right?” I asked.

  “I’d rather he didn’t.”

  “But there’s no reason for him to stay. Not if Miriam left on her own and is all right.”

  Deputy Rogers cleared his throat and then in an even deeper voice than usual said, “I’d like to confirm that. Tell Tommy I’ll call him later.” Was there something he wasn’t telling me?

  TOMMY AND I rode in silence until he said, “You sounded pretty chummy with Deputy Rogers.”

  Was Tommy hiding something after all and my conversation with the deputy made him nervous? “I hope I didn’t sound chummy. I was aiming for businesslike.”

  Tommy didn’t respond, and I guessed he was feeling a little uncomfortable. After a few minutes, he turned on the radio, and we mostly rode in silence all the way to South Bend.

  Maybe Deputy Rogers was right to be suspicious of Tommy. People did change, as it seemed Tommy had after I knew him. Ryan certainly had. Or, more likely, I’d misjudged his character all along. Maybe I had misjudged Tommy’s too. Maybe the boy he was, as a teenager, was who he still was.

  There wasn’t a run on rentals in northern Indiana in January, so I pretty much had my pick of vehicles. I decided to get the safest one available, a Chevy Suburban, since I’d be driving Mammi around on snowy roads.

  Tommy waited until I’d completed the paperwork and had keys in hand. “Thank you,” I said to him as we walked outside.

  “I’ll follow you to Dorothy’s,” he said. “And then we can return the pickup to Seth. I’ll follow you and give you a ride back to the farm.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But how about if I follow you to the farm? You know the roads around here much better than I do.”

  As I drove the rental with Tommy’s Jeep in front of me and the back of his head in view, I thought about what he was like when I first met him. Eight years old. Tall and lanky. Big, toothy grin. Straight light brown hair. Dark eyes. It seemed there was nothing he couldn’t do. Climb the tallest tree. Ride bareback. Jump out of the hayloft window and land on his feet. Chase a runaway calf. He had so much energy. Not having a brother and being two years younger, I was enthralled with Tommy’s strength and agility as I did my best to keep up with him. Sometimes it seemed like he could fly if he put his mind to it.

  And he was so kind to me. Showing me how to feed the chickens and gather eggs. How to milk a cow. How to bury a deceased baby robin. Tommy was always waiting for me when Uncle Seth turned into Mammi’s driveway. Year after year, it had been the same.

  Until it wasn’t.

  Yes, I’d decided to study to become Mom’s assistant and not to spend any more summers in Indiana, but would I have chosen to do so at that time if Tommy had continued to welcome me? I still had a big crush on him, even when he treated me badly.

  Who was Tommy Miller now? A caring man, concerned about someone else’s child? Or was he in cahoots with his cousin in exploiting a naïve young Amish woman and selling fentanyl?

  When we reached the farm, I checked in with Mammi and said I’d be back after I returned Uncle Seth’s pickup.

  “You and Tommy need something to eat,” she said. “Tell him to come in for a bowl of bean-and-ham soup and a piece of peach pie.”

  After the awkward way we’d ended our conversation on the ride to South Bend, I just wanted him to leave, but I couldn’t explain that to Mammi. “I’ll ask him,” I said.

  When I asked Tommy if he wanted to come in, he tugged the bill of his baseball cap. “Are you sure you want me to?”

  “Yes.” No. What mattered was that Mammi wanted him to.

  He frowned. “Look, I’ll go in and tell Dorothy good-bye, but then let’s get Seth’s truck back. I’d better go pick up Mason from my mom’s.”

  “Do you plan to leave soon?” I asked.

  “Probably.” He turned off the engine and opened the door. “Unless something comes up. Like Deputy Rogers arresting me.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  He exhaled. “I hope so.”

  A HALF HOUR later, with the pickup delivered to a much healthier Uncle Seth, Tommy pulled back into Mammi’s driveway.

  “Thank you for everything,” I said.

  He gave me a wry smile. “I’ve been more trouble than I’ve been worth, I’m afraid.”

  “No,” I said. “It’s been good to see you. Really.”

  “Same,” he answered. “I’ve thought of you often through the years and wondered how things turned out for you.”

  “Well, now you know.” My phone pinged, and I pulled it from my coat pocket, wondering if it was a message from Joshua. But it was an email from the hospital in Lancaster. I held up a finger to Tommy to hold on as I read it, then looked up at him. “Sorry. I applied for a job in Pennsylvania. The HR department wants to do a phone interview tomorrow morning.” I was surprised they wanted to do it on a Saturday, but perhaps it was a good sign that they were serious about me.

  “Great!” he said. “See, you’ve had a setback, but you’re bouncing back already. That’s wonderful.”

  “Thank you.”

  His eyes were so kind and generous with support. There were so many things I hadn’t asked him, including why he’d left Indiana in the first place. And now I might not have a chance. “Well, I guess you need to go get Mason,” I said.

  “I’ll walk you up to the porch.”

  “You don’t need to.”

  He already had his door open. “I want to.” He hurried around to the front of the Jeep and caught my door as I opened it, holding it for me.

  As we walked up to the porch, he put his arm around me and gave me a half hug. “I really am grateful to have gotten to see you.”

  Surprised by the emotion I was feeling, I only managed to say, “Ditto.”

  When we reached the front door, he gave me another side hug. “Take care,” he said. “Follow God’s leading. He has a good plan for you.”

  My voice caught as I said, “He has a good plan for you too.”

  Tommy nodded and then walked down the steps. I watched him go, wishing he’d brought up God sooner. That was another thing I didn’t ask him about. I guess I assumed, since he left the Amish, that he’d left God behind too. But he hadn’t said that. Or even indicated such a thing. True, he seemed to know a lot about addictions and all of Kenny’s vices, but he’d never implicated himself in any of that. And even if he had, it wouldn’t tell me anything about his present relationship with God.

  As he left, I realized I didn’t have his phone number. I had Kenny’s, which I’d saved in my contacts the night of Arleta’s delivery, but I had no idea what Tommy’s was.

  He backed out of the driveway.

  My heart did a lurch as he reached the lane. I watched his Jeep until it turned onto the highway and disappeared. Just like that, he was gone.

  Instead of going into the house, I retreated to my rental SUV to call the HR department at the hospital and set up a phone interview for the next morning. Then I called Joshua. He didn’t answer. I left a message and waited. A few minutes later, he called back.

  “I’ve left five messages on Miriam’s phone but haven’t heard back from her,” he said.

  “So she hasn’t come back home yet?”

  “No.”

  I wondered if perhaps Kenny would have taken her to his and Tommy’s apartment. “Okay. Would you let me know if she shows up or calls?”

  “Jah.” He hung up, again, without saying good-bye.

  Should I call Deputy Rogers? Follow Tommy to his apartment? Or stay out of it? After weighing my options, I settled on
calling Deputy Rogers again.

  “I’m close to your grandmother’s house,” he said. “I’ll stop by.”

  I hesitated a moment and then said, “All right.” Why did I feel as if I were betraying Tommy?

  I hurried into the house to give Mammi fair warning. “I’ll talk with him in the kitchen,” I said.

  “Everything all right?”

  I nodded. “I’m just going to fill him in on what we learned.”

  Five minutes later, I poured Deputy Rogers a cup of coffee, placed a piece of peach pie in front of him, and then sat down across the table.

  “None of this is probably a big deal,” I said. “But I thought I’d tell you just in case.” I explained that Miriam hadn’t gone home.

  “That’s not surprising,” he said.

  I wasn’t surprised either. Miriam didn’t want to be there, and it didn’t sound as if her home life was very stable either.

  “Why does Tommy say he’s in such a hurry to leave Nappanee?” Deputy Rogers asked and then took a bite of pie.

  I hesitated. The deputy narrowed his eyes.

  I didn’t think the fact that Tommy was caring for Mason had anything to do with Miriam going missing, but what if it did? Finally I said, “He’s taking a little boy back to Vegas.”

  “A little boy?”

  I nodded. “Kenny’s son, Mason.”

  Deputy Rogers speared another bite of pie but left it on the plate. “What are you talking about?”

  “Mason’s mother got out of rehab and is in a halfway house. The program allows her son to be with her, so Tommy’s returning him to Vegas.”

  “What about Kenny?”

  “He and the mom don’t get along. Tommy said it’s better if he takes him.”

  Deputy Rogers didn’t respond. He ate the last bite of pie and then, after he swallowed, said, “Sounds fishy.”

  It hadn’t to me before, but I could see his point. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m not going to speculate,” he said. “Nothing came up when I ran Tommy’s name, but I’m wondering if he has an alias. Any ideas?”

  I shook my head.

  He drained his cup of coffee. “So is the little boy’s name Mason Miller?”

  “As far as I know,” I said. “Although he might have the mother’s last name, which I don’t know. Her first name is Christine.”

  His voice grew gruffer. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  I shrugged. “It didn’t seem to have anything to do with the case, and I didn’t know much about it before today.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” He stood. “After I contact the authorities in Las Vegas.”

  I exhaled as I scrutinized the grizzled deputy. “What did Tommy do when he was a teenager that ticked you off so badly?”

  Deputy Rogers scowled. “That’s none of your business.” He strode to the front door, put his hat back on, and tipped it. “Thank you for the information.” However, he didn’t sound thankful—he sounded angry. And aggressive. He let himself out, pulling the door shut with a thud.

  “Goodness,” Mammi said, stepping into the kitchen. “I hope everything’s all right.”

  I muttered, “So do I” and headed up to my room, feeling all sorts of conflicting emotions. Had I just betrayed Tommy?

  Hopefully I’d be on my way to Pennsylvania soon and none of this would matter. I cringed. Not matter? It was Tommy’s life.

  The next morning, still feeling ill over my conversation with Deputy Rogers, I sat in the rental car with the engine running and the heat on for the phone interview. It seemed to go well, in spite of how unsettled I felt, and the HR person told me she’d let me know if they wanted to do a second interview.

  After the call ended, I second-guessed not getting Tommy’s number. But if I did have it, what would I ask him? If he’d been arrested?

  Mammi and I left for Jane’s soon after my interview concluded. “Are we picking up Wanda?” I asked as I opened the front door for Mammi.

  “Nee,” she answered. “She can’t go today.”

  Perhaps she was feeling sad about Tommy and Mason leaving. Mammi and I didn’t talk much on the way. She seemed intent on watching the snow-covered landscape, although it might not last for long. We’d already hit thirty-two degrees.

  When we arrived at Plain Patterns, there weren’t any buggies or cars parked outside. “Is there a quilting circle today?”

  “Jah,” Mammi said. “But several of the women have come down with the flu.”

  I shot Mammi a questioning look.

  “I had a phone message from Jane this morning,” she said. “She said quite a few women had canceled but to come out anyway.”

  Once again, by the time I made my way around to Mammi’s side of the car, she already had both feet on the ground and was practically sprinting toward the quilt shop.

  Jane greeted us warmly, and we took off our coats and settled down around the hearth and home quilt, still stretched across the frame.

  After exchanging pleasantries, she turned to me. “How about more of Emma’s story?”

  “Yes, please.” I eased my needle through a patch of forget-me-not fabric.

  “Remind me where I left off. . . .”

  “Eli and Judah got into a dispute about whether the Natives in the area were peaceful or not, and Jean-Paul had just arrived at Emma’s parents’ house, saying Mathilde was ill.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Emma

  Jean-Paul and Baptiste led the way while Emma rode Red, thankful she had her cloak with her. The evening had grown chilly. Isaac rode behind Emma and Judah followed, taking up the rear.

  Mamm guessed it was milk fever and sent dried dandelions to make a poultice and said to use hot compresses too. She also sent peppermint and other herbs that might be helpful, all tucked into a small leather bag that Emma strapped across her body. Dusk fell, and the riders slowed. A few minutes later, she could see the outline of the Bernard cabin at the edge of the woods. As she slid off Red, Emma could hear the wail of a baby.

  Clutching Mamm’s bag, Emma bolted into the cabin, which smelled faintly of Jean-Paul’s tobacco, while the men headed to the barn, taking Baptiste with them. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark.

  The bed was in the far corner, away from the fireplace, where the wails were coming from. “Mathilde, I’m here.”

  First, she scooped up the baby, and then, balancing Agnes in one arm, she reached down and felt Mathilde’s forehead. She was burning up. Mathilde clasped Emma’s hand. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Thank you for sending Jean-Paul to get me,” Emma said. “Is it your breasts?”

  Mathilde shook her head but placed her hand on her chest.

  Confused, Emma asked, “Do you have pain?”

  Mathilde nodded and then began to cough, the sound deep and raspy. Emma put the baby on the end of the bed and pulled Mathilde to a sitting position. She continued to cough and then reached for a cloth and spit mucus into it. At least there wasn’t any blood.

  The baby began to wail.

  “Can you nurse her?” Emma asked.

  “I keep trying, but my milk is gone.”

  “Is your cow fresh?”

  Mathilde shook her head. “She’s dry.”

  Cow’s milk might make the baby sick anyway. Sarah would have to nurse Agnes.

  Emma wasn’t sure what was wrong with Mathilde. Hopefully it wasn’t consumption. But it might be pneumonia, which could also be fatal and bring death much quicker than consumption would. The dandelion poultice might not do much good, but Emma would use it anyway, as well as make peppermint tea to help with the cough.

  She left the baby screaming on the end of the bed and went to stoke the fire, which cast flickering light across the room. A pail of water sat on the floor. She filled the kettle and put it over the fire.

  Jean-Paul entered the cabin, and Emma asked him to hold the baby. “I need onions for a poultice. And then you need to get the baby to Sarah to
nurse. Mathilde doesn’t have any milk.”

  Jean-Paul nodded.

  “Go with Judah. Wrap the baby warmly, and put her in her cradleboard.” Emma hoped that would help Agnes feel more secure. “Tell Isaac to stay here for the night in case I need him.”

  A few minutes later, Jean-Paul came back with onions and then left with the baby. Isaac came in with Baptiste, and Emma cut some bread for the two of them, sliced the onions and put them on to boil, and then made peppermint tea for Mathilde. Emma had Mathilde hold the hot cup while Emma placed a cloth over both her friend’s head and the cup, forcing the steam toward her face.

  “Breathe in,” she said.

  As Mathilde did, Emma prayed for her friend, asking God to heal her. Once the steam stopped, Emma urged Mathilde to sip the tea until it was all gone.

  Next, Emma dipped the onions out of the boiling water, placed them in a cloth, and wrapped it tightly. She placed the poultice on Mathilde’s chest for a few minutes, coaxing her to breathe deeply, and then had her roll to her stomach so Emma could put the poultice on her back.

  When she started coughing again, Emma had her sit up. The congestion seemed to be loosening. When the poultice had cooled, she reheated the onions and repeated the process.

  “I’m tired,” Mathilde said, after she’d finished a second cup of tea.

  “Rest then,” Emma said. “Jean-Paul should be home soon.”

  Isaac and Baptiste had curled up to the side of the fireplace on a blanket and were fast asleep.

  Jean-Paul was home soon after, with Agnes, who was still crying. He motioned for Emma to come to the door. Jean-Paul had the baby in one hand and the cradleboard in the other.

  Emma stepped out of the cabin and pulled the door shut. The moon had risen, nearly full, against a cloudless sky.

  Jean-Paul slipped the baby into Emma’s arms.

  “Sarah wouldn’t feed her.”

  Aghast, Emma clutched the baby.

  “She says she doesn’t have much milk. She was afraid she couldn’t feed both babies.”

  Emma wasn’t sure what to do. She remembered Mathilde’s joy when Sarah had Hiram. She believed Mathilde would do anything she could for Sarah, if she were able. Overcome with sorrow, Emma wanted to flee the four hundred and fifty miles back to Somerset County, back to a community with more women and more resources.