Appleseed Creek Trilogy, Books 1-3 Page 12

  Without opening the menu, the Troyer family ordered. They came to Young’s often and knew the offerings.

  Ruth had downcast eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

  Ellie shook her pen at Ruth. “You need chocolate pie. I can always tell when a girl needs a big piece of my chocolate silk pie.”

  The corners of Ruth’s mouth turned up ever so slightly, and she gave her choice.

  Ellie scribbled down the order. “What kind of pie would you like, Chloe?”

  I flipped through the tabletop menu. Each page had a photograph of a delicious-looking piece of pie. “It’s too hard to decide.”

  “The mixed berry is good,” Ruth said.

  “With ice cream,” Thomas replied.

  Ruth nodded in agreement. “With ice cream.”

  I decided my diet started tomorrow. “I’ll have the mixed berries with ice cream then.” The smile my choice brought to Ruth’s face was worth the calories.

  After Ellie left the table, I excused myself in search of the restroom. As I moved through the gift shop, a little boy in a Cleveland Indians T-shirt tried to convince his mother to buy him a stuffed tiger. A small waiting area with rocking chairs outside the restroom was empty. When I exited the restroom, two Amish women sat in those white rocking chairs, flour on their aprons and their feet swollen from working in the restaurant’s bakery. They didn’t appear to notice me.

  I was about to slip by them when the older of the two women spoke. “Deacon Sutter finally has his chance to be a preacher.”

  “And maybe bishop too,” the younger added.

  “No, that won’t happen.”

  I took a step back into the alcove.

  The younger one frowned. “It could.”

  The older one leaned her head to one side. “Ya, maybe now that the bishop is gone. Bishop Glick would have never allowed it.”

  Did the deacon cut the brake line on my car to get the bishop out of the way? I pushed the wayward thought from my head, yet I knew I would feel safer if Becky or I weren’t the intended targets for the sabotage.

  “The bishop will be missed. We need him now more than ever.” The younger of the pair sighed. “Did you hear about Deacon Sutter’s soybean field?”

  “No. What happened?”

  “Englischer drove through it and destroyed almost every plant. I heard it from his son. He was there at the time. Of course, he couldn’t do anything considering . . .”

  The older woman shook her head. “The deacon wouldn’t let his son do anything if he’d been able to.”

  In the restroom doorway, I shivered. The attacks on the Amish farms had to be related to Becky’s accident, didn’t they? Why was Chief Rose so reluctant to consider that? And why would they cut the brake line on my car? I took a deep breath and considered that maybe I was forcing the connection between the two incidents. Yet the prospect that they weren’t connected was too terrifying to consider, because that would mean that two different people were causing trouble in Knox County. Who knew Cleveland would be the safer place to live?

  “You’re right, but people are scared. I heard the Fishers may move. They have family in the district in Colorado.”

  “Colorado.” The older one snorted, then rubbed her knee and sighed. “It’s a shame about the Troyer girl.”

  “She is a pretty one, but too flighty. No one was surprised when she decided she’d rather live with the Englisch. My daughter said she draws portraits.” She spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “The deacon spoke to her father about it several times.”

  The older woman murmured something I couldn’t make out.

  I knew I should make my exit, but found no way to do so gracefully. So I continued to hover in the ladies’ room doorway.

  The younger one continued, apparently rested. “Her older brother was a surprise though.”

  “He was.” The older woman nodded. “He broke hearts when he left.”

  “But the deacon was happy.”

  “Of course he was—after what happened.”

  “We shouldn’t speak of that. I saw the deacon here earlier,” the younger woman added in a whisper.

  Her friend agreed.

  My breath caught. Had Timothy left someone he cared about behind when he left the Amish community? What could have happened to make the deacon happy that a member of his district left the Amish?

  The older woman tucked a stray hair into her white cap. “The family still sees Timothy often.”

  “That’s Joseph Zook’s influence. He’s from Lancaster.”

  “Ah.” The second one nodded as if that explained Grandfather Zook’s behavior.

  Stranded, I wondered if I should go back into the bathroom until they left when one of the women said, “Hello, Becky, how are you doing?”

  I peeked out to see Becky give the pair a tentative smile. “Gut, danki.”

  The older one spoke. “We were so sorry to hear the news.”

  The younger woman nodded. “Very sorry.”

  “Danki.”

  The pair seemed to have gained steam. The woman leaned forward in their rockers, listening.

  “Can you tell us what happened?” the older woman asked.

  I stepped out of the bathroom doorway.

  Becky noticed me and let out a breath. “Chloe, there you are. Our pie is on the table. Timothy asked me to find you. He was afraid you might have gotten lost.”

  I smiled. “I’m fine.”

  The two women had the good sense to blush.

  As we left, Becky smiled back at the women. “It was nice to see you.” We made our way to the table, and Becky turned to me. “Is something wrong, Chloe? You look upset.”

  “I’m fine.” I forced a bright smile onto my face. “I can’t wait for that piece of pie.” At least that much is true.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  We left Young’s after three. My furniture was then loaded into the back of Timothy’s pickup and tied down with neon green bungee cords. Timothy helped Grandfather Zook into the buggy, and the three younger Troyer children climbed into the back.

  Grandfather Zook winked. “I must get the grandkinner back to the farm to their mamm. She’s going to be mad at me already for having them home late for supper.”

  Ruth, who seemed to have perked up while eating her chocolate silk pie, frowned.

  Becky squeezed her little sister’s hand and whispered in her ear. But Ruth shook her head, and Becky stepped back from the buggy with tears in her eyes.

  Grandfather Zook flicked the reins, and Sparky pulled the buggy away from the hitching post. Timothy, Becky, and I waited until the buggy rounded the corner before climbing into the truck.

  Becky rode in silence, wedged between Timothy and me. The ride, which had taken thirty minutes by buggy, took only ten by car.

  At the house, Becky and I each carried in an end table, while Timothy set the coffee table in the middle of the room. Then with Becky holding open the door, Timothy and I carried in the couch and set it in the middle of the room. Becky flopped onto it. “I might sleep here tonight.”

  I leaned my head to one side. “You can if you want to.”

  Gig jumped onto the back of the sofa, walking its length until he found a comfortable place to curl up.

  Timothy laughed. “I think your cat likes it.”

  I nodded. “I think so.”

  Timothy moved toward the door. “I’d better get going. I have a job I promised to finish today.” He glanced at his sister. “Are you coming to church tomorrow, Becky?”

  Becky’s nose wrinkled. “I can’t, Timothy. Everyone will be talking about me. You saw what happened between Anna and Ruth. I can’t take more of that. I hope Ruth will speak to me again.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Who said she wasn’t speak
ing to you?”

  Becky eyed him. “She didn’t say good-bye at Young’s.”

  “She was upset.”

  Becky flung her good arm over her face. “For good reason.”

  “So are you coming to church tomorrow? People are more likely to talk if you aren’t there. Maybe if they see you, they will think twice.”

  Becky sat up. “I’ll go if Chloe goes.”

  “I . . .” Since I’d moved to Appleseed Creek, I had every intention of finding a new church to attend, but the previous Sunday I’d found an excuse to avoid it. I would never admit it to anyone but myself, but I was afraid. Entering a new church where everyone already knew each other and had a history was a terrifying prospect. In Cleveland, I’d attended the same church with the Green family since Tanisha invited me to Sunday school in the second grade.

  Timothy was probably right. If Becky didn’t go to church tomorrow, tongues would be wagging. I knew how gossip spread through a church. I remembered how people had talked after my mother’s accident. Not all the talk had been malicious, but even well-intentioned gossip hurt.

  I shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Sure, I can go.”

  Becky gave me one of her dazzling smiles and flopped back down on the couch.

  I followed Timothy to his truck. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

  He slammed the tailgate of his pickup, and I jumped.

  “Are you nervous?” Timothy asked.

  “Me? Nervous? No.”

  “You seem to be jumpy every time I see you.”

  I shrugged. He was the one who made me nervous, but should I tell him that? “I’m worried about Becky.”

  Timothy followed me, his brows knitted in concern. “How is my sister?”

  I turned to face him. “Much better than I would be, but I have a feeling it might get worse for her before it gets better.” I told him about my encounter with the women at the farmers’ market and outside the restroom at Young’s.

  Timothy let out a long, slow sigh. “That’s what I was afraid of. Bishop Glick was a favorite. Many are devastated at the news. Not just for him and his family, but for themselves. The district will have to choose a new bishop, and he might not be as popular as Bishop Glick.”

  “Does the district elect the new bishop?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not like running for president, if that’s what you think. The preachers from the area churches will be held up as possible bishops, and God chooses the leader from them. I’ve never actually seen a bishop being chosen since I didn’t join the church.”

  It sounded like an odd way to choose a leader to me. “Did everyone like the bishop?”

  “No one is universally liked.”

  “I’m worried about this thing with Anna, too.” I hugged myself about the waist. “This doesn’t just affect Becky. Your whole family is involved.”

  “I know that.” His blue eyes scanned my face. “How are you?”

  “Afraid. I thought a lot about what you said last night”—I gazed into his concerned eyes—“that I could have been killed.”

  “Because your car was in disrepair.” He shook the tailgate as if to make sure it was latched properly.

  “No, it’s worse than that. Chief Rose was here this morning.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “She was? Why didn’t you or Becky say anything?”

  “I didn’t want to talk about it in front of the kids.”

  “What did she say?”

  I took a deep breath. “That my car was fine. Someone cut the brake line.”

  Timothy’s eyes grew wide, and he pounded his fist on the gate of his truck. “What?”

  I took a step back, and then told him what the police chief said about the condition of the car.

  He wagged his head back and forth. Slowly. “She thinks someone tried to kill you and Becky?”

  “Or hurt us. Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know, but it could be two men in town named Curt and Brock. They were harassing Becky when I met her. ”

  His eyes flashed angrily. “Greta thinks these men cut the brake line?”

  “They are one possibility. She was going to question them. I imagine she already has by now.”

  His eyes bored into me, his jaw set. “Both of you need to be careful.”

  “I know.” The nauseous feeling from that morning washed over me again. I needed to think about something other than my fear. Becky. Think about Becky. “Becky’s still in trouble too. Even though the brake line was cut and the accident wasn’t completely her fault, she will always be blamed for what happened.” I paused, allowing my eyes to meet his. “Unless we do something.”

  “Like what?” He folded up the neon green bungee cords and dropped them in a white bucket in the bed of his truck.

  “Maybe the police are wrong. Maybe the bishop was the intended victim all along.”

  Timothy frowned. “What are you saying?”

  “We need to find out what really happened.”

  “We?”

  “I need your help, Timothy. I could never find out everything I need from the Amish. You can.”

  He shook his head, his lips pressed into a grim line. “Chloe, you don’t understand. I grew up Amish, but I’m not Amish anymore. There’s a difference. A big difference. Deacon Sutter made that clear today.”

  “You are still closer than I could ever be.” I placed my hand on the edge of the tailgate.

  He sighed.

  I held my gaze on him. “Will you help me?”

  “I will do whatever I can to protect my sister”—he paused—“and you.” He covered my hand with his own and squeezed it for a fraction of a second. His motion was so quick, I wondered if it really happened.

  My stomach did a flip, but not from fear.

  Timothy walked toward the driver’s side of his truck and stopped, his gaze fixed on me again. “Do you need a ride to church tomorrow?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not far. We can walk.”

  He nodded, hopped into his truck, and drove away.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Timothy and Becky attended a Mennonite church two blocks from Appleseed Creek’s square. It was another beautiful day, and I was happy we could walk to enjoy the weather. It also gave me a chance to burn off another of Becky’s colossal breakfasts. I knew she missed her family, but my cholesterol levels shouldn’t be put into jeopardy because of it.

  I wore a knee-length skirt and a white blouse, and Becky wore an ankle-length skirt and blue T-shirt she’d worn the day before. Note to self: take her clothes shopping soon. It might be a fun outing and get our minds off the accident.

  The church was a simple white building with a steeple, but I didn’t see a cross outside. “Is this church much different from your parents’?”

  Becky scrunched her brows. “My family doesn’t go to a church building for Sunday meeting. Old Order Amish don’t have church buildings. The Amish have services in homes in the district.” She glanced at the simple structure. “This is the first church building I’ve ever been inside.”

  “Oh.” I cocked my chin. “But Mennonites build churches? Why?”

  She shrugged. “They’re just different.” She said this as if it were explanation enough, but I suspected something deeper than that.

  Although Becky had insisted my outfit was fine for church, I felt self-conscious when we started up the walkway. All the women and girls wore long skirts similar to Becky’s. I tugged at the hem of mine, willing it to grow another twelve inches.

  Despite the long skirts, the women wore colors and patterns. Many sported flowered blouses similar to the one Becky wore when I met her on the side of the road.

  Becky took a deep breath. Three young women about Becky’s ag
e stood at the base of the church’s cement steps.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She straightened her shoulders. “I can do this.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Of course you can.”

  She walked up to them, and I followed. A pretty brunette held out her hand to me. “Welcome to our church. I’m Hannah Hilty. You must be Chloe.”

  I blinked at her use of my name. Then again, I imagined the buggy accident had been a big topic of conversation in the Amish and Mennonite communities in Knox County.

  I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Hannah.”

  She pointed to her friend with bright red cheeks. Was she embarrassed or recovering from a sunburn? “This is Emily,” Hannah said. She pointed to a second friend, this one rail thin and at least six feet tall. I wondered how she found skirts long enough for her frame. “And that’s Kim.”

  I waved a hello.

  Hannah examined Becky’s cast, now covered with the signatures of her siblings, grandfather, and me. “Becky, I’m glad to see you’re not more seriously injured. Does it hurt?”

  Becky wrapped her left hand protectively around the cast. “Not much.”

  “Have you spoken to Isaac?” Kim asked.

  Becky tilted up her chin to look at the much taller girl.

  “Do you know Isaac?” I asked. “Are you former Amish too?”

  Emily snorted. “She thinks we’re Amish.”

  Hannah looked annoyed. “No, we are all Mennonites. The church has a few former Amish members like Timothy, but most of us have never been Amish.”

  Definitely the wrong question to ask. My first day at a new church and I was already inserting my foot in my mouth.

  “Is Timothy here?” I asked.

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed. “Are you looking for him?”

  What’s her problem?

  The church bell rang, cutting our conversation short. We headed inside to find wooden pews, white walls, and not a shard of stained glass in the place. Across the sanctuary, Timothy laughed at something his roommate Danny said. He looked handsome in dress pants, a blue button-down shirt, and a solid blue tie. It was the first time I’d seen him in anything other than work clothes.