Appleseed Creek Trilogy, Books 1-3 Read online

  I curled my lip. “Is this really necessary, Timothy?”

  “Yes.” Timothy’s eyes were soft. “I’m taking every step to protect you.”

  Before I could respond, Officer Nottingham came back with an SLR digital camera. He circled me like a scientist inspecting a bug and took shots of my shoulder from every angle. After the fifteenth shot, I smoothed my shirt collar back into place. “I think you got it.”

  He set the camera on the conference table. “Miss Humphrey, would you like to file an official complaint?”

  Timothy started to nod, but I smacked one hand on the table. “No.”

  “I think you should,” Timothy said.

  But maybe Curt and Brock will leave Becky alone if I leave them alone. “I appreciate you documenting this, Officer, but I’m not filing a complaint.”

  Officer Nottingham ran a hand back and forth through his boyish hair. “I’ll let the chief know. She’s not going to agree with your decision.”

  Timothy shook his head slowly, his voice a murmur. “And neither do I.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Back in the pickup, Timothy glanced at me. “I’d like to stop at a friend’s farm.”

  I settled into the bench seat. You won’t hear me complaining about spending more time with you. “Whose farm is it?”

  He pulled the truck onto the street, his gaze fixed on the road. “Deacon Sutter’s.”

  I sat straight up. “What? Are you crazy?”

  He glanced at me. “No.”

  “They’re going to kick us off the farm. Why would they let us in there?”

  He shot me another glance. “The deacon won’t be there.”

  “How do you know that?” I leaned back again the seat.

  “The Sutters own several businesses in town. The deacon won’t be home for at least another hour.”

  “If he’s not home, what’s the point of going?” I peered into the side door mirror and watched Appleseed Creek recede.

  His mouth quirked in the corner as if he were holding back a smile. “You’ll see.”

  I pursed my lips. This wasn’t a good idea.

  The Sutter home was fifteen minutes outside of town, and to get there we drove by the same gravel road the Troyers lived on. I hadn’t realized that the Sutters and Troyers were next-door neighbors—at least in rural terms.

  We rode the rest of the trip in silence, neither one of us willing to change our minds. Mabel slept in the pickup’s backseat. Just how many dog biscuits had Fern given her? Timothy turned the truck onto a long gravel and dirt lane, and we both took in the scene. To our left a soybean field lay in ruins. Tire tracks crisscrossed the plants.

  Timothy slowed the truck, and squinted through the windshield. “It’s worse than I thought it would be.”

  A natural gas well bobbed up and down slowly, the shape and movement reminding me of a great blue heron dipping its beak into Lake Erie for a fish. I tilted my head, examining it from afar. “Is that pump on the Sutter’s property?”

  Timothy sped up. “Yes. It’s a natural gas pump-jack. It belongs to the deacon’s family.”

  My forehead wrinkled. “That’s allowed?”

  He nodded. “You saw all the appliances in my parents’ house that run on natural gas. It’s a valuable commodity to the Amish.”

  “But does it need electricity to run?”

  He laughed. “You’d be surprised what the Amish can get to work without electricity. I believe that pump is powered by propane.”

  “Oh.”

  The lane ended in front of a two-story house that had a wide wooden ramp connecting the front door to the driveway. Before we were even out of the truck, the front door opened. I cringed, hoping it wouldn’t be the deacon who greeted us. It wasn’t. A man close to Timothy’s age rolled out of the house in a wheelchair. He turned the chair so he rolled down the wooden ramp and waited for us.

  Mabel didn’t stir when we climbed out of the truck. Must have been some dog biscuits.

  He wore plain clothes but his chair was titanium. Black hair stuck out from under his straw hat. “Where have you been, Tim?” His hazel eyes sparkled.

  Timothy shook hands with the man. “Working.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I saw the handiwork of visitors in the soybean field.”

  The man in the wheelchair grimaced. “I wish I had seen who did it. I’d tell you so you could tell the police.” He grinned. “Since as an obedient Amish boy I can’t talk to the cops. I wish we could put a stop to it.” His hazel eyes turned to me.

  Timothy placed a hand on my back. “Chloe, this is my friend Aaron.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  Aaron’s smile grew wider. “Pleased to finally meet you.”

  My brow wrinkled. Had his father said anything to Aaron about me? Whatever it was couldn’t have been good.

  Aaron turned his attention back to Timothy, his smile now a frown. “How’s Becky? She must be devastated.”

  “Fine, considering,” Timothy said. “She started a new job today.”

  “Really?” Aaron said. “Good for her. Tell her I asked about her.”

  Was that a blush?

  Timothy smiled. “I will.”

  Aaron flicked his chin in the direction of the barn. “Timothy, there are a couple of milk stools by the barn. Can you go grab them? You two shouldn’t have to stand.”

  As Timothy left for the stools, Aaron watched me, curiously. “I’m really glad to meet you, Chloe. You’ve made a big difference.”

  Before I could ask him what he meant by that, Timothy had returned with the milking stools. He placed one on the ground for me, and I watched him fold his long frame onto the other one, which was only six inches off of the ground. I bit back a smile.

  Timothy gave Aaron a mock scowl. “This was the best seating you could come up with for us?”

  Aaron chuckled before his expression sobered. “It’s a shame about the bishop. He’s going to be missed.”

  “He will,” Timothy agreed. “He was the best bishop we ever had.”

  “Has your father said anything about the accident?” I asked.

  Aaron squinted in the sun. “A little.” He swung his gaze to Timothy. “You know how closemouthed the deacon can be.”

  Timothy screwed up his mouth. “Unless you are doing something wrong.”

  Aaron’s head bobbed. “That’s a fact.”

  I scanned the grounds as if the deacon would jump out from behind a bush at any second. “Is your father here?”

  “No. I’m the only one home. I’m the youngest of twelve children, but all of my brothers and sisters live on their own farms with their families. My parents are in the next county visiting my sister since her husband’s having a barn raising today.” He tapped the side of his chair. “You can see why I wouldn’t be much help in that situation.” He gave Timothy an apologetic smile. “Even in Holmes County, I’m sure you and your family are the main topic of conversation, Tim. Most of the time barn raisings are huge gossip sessions, especially for the women.”

  “I heard your father paid a visit to my folks yesterday,” Timothy said.

  Aaron nodded. “He and Preacher Hooley did.” He laughed. “I suspect my daed did most of the talking, though. Only time Preacher Hooley opens his mouth is on Sundays, and that’s because he has to.”

  “The deacon told my family to stay away from Becky and Chloe.” Timothy gave me an apologetic smile.

  “He wouldn’t want me to talk to you either.” Aaron frowned.

  Timothy looked sad, almost remorseful. “He hasn’t wanted you to speak to me in years.”

  “That’s true, especially now that you’ve gone Englisch on us.” Aaron flashed a smile and rolled his chair back and forth in place. “So why are you here?
I know it’s not just to say hello.”

  Timothy groaned, then proceeded to tell Aaron about the cut brake line.

  I shot him a look. He didn’t tell me he would share this with anyone. “Tim—”

  Timothy reached out a hand to calm me. “Don’t worry, Chloe, we can trust Aaron.”

  Aaron rubbed his hands up and down the armrests of his chair. “He’s right. I may be the deacon’s son, but I don’t agree with everything he does.”

  I pressed my lips together before speaking. “Could the bishop have been the intended victim?”

  Aaron thought for a minute. “That’s hard to believe. Everyone loved Bishop Glick.” He tipped his straw hat back. “How would the person cutting the brake line know that Becky would meet him on the road?”

  “We thought of that too. Right now, we are eliminating all the possibilities,” I said. “Did you know the bishop well?”

  “As well as most folks, I guess. I may have seen him more often than others in the district because of my father’s position. He and the preachers stopped by our house many times to talk about goings-on in the district.”

  I leaned toward him, listening. “Would anyone want to hurt the bishop?”

  Aaron shook his head. “I can’t think of anyone.”

  The ladies gossiping at Young’s sprang to mind. “What about your father?”

  Timothy frowned.

  If he thought we could trust Aaron, this was a question that needed to be asked.

  “Daed and Bishop Glick didn’t always see eye-to-eye, that’s true. The deacon thought the bishop wasn’t as strict as he should be, especially with the young people in the district.” He clenched the arms of his wheelchair. “If it were left up to my father, all we would do is work, eat, and sleep. It was how he was raised. Before Bishop Glick, the deacon’s father was the bishop until he died.”

  Timothy shuddered. “Bishop Sutter was a tough man.”

  Aaron gave a mock shiver. “You don’t know the half of it. I think my daed always wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, but the Lord had another plan for him.” He removed his hat, ran a hand through his thick black hair, and plopped it back on his head. “I do know someone who would know if the bishop had any enemies.”

  I straightened. “Who?”

  “Hettie Glick. She knows everything that’s going on in the district. She also happens to be the bishop’s aunt. If someone wanted to hurt the bishop, Hettie would know.” He gave a determined nod. “Daed complained to our family numerous times that the bishop had to run everything by Hettie before he came to a decision. Drove my father up the wall.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “For one thing Hettie’s unmarried, and for another, she’s a woman. In the Amish world, her opinion doesn’t amount to much outside of the home.” Aaron gave me an apologetic smile.

  I held up my hand to block a sun ray that broke through the clouds. “Why did the bishop put so much weight on her opinions then?”

  Aaron shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Hettie that.”

  Timothy winced. “I don’t know if she’d want to talk to me.”

  Aaron laughed. “You broke the picture window in the front of her house ten years ago. I’m sure she has forgotten by now.”

  “I don’t think so,” Timothy said, grinning. “She mentions it every time I see her.”

  My gaze swiveled from Timothy to Aaron. “Would she be willing to talk to us right now? She must be brokenhearted over her nephew’s death.”

  “She might.” Aaron spoke thoughtfully. “I’ll find out, and I’ll call you to tell you what she says.”

  My eyes widened. “You have a phone?”

  Aaron laughed again. “There’s a phone shed at the end of the road. We share it with three other farms, including the Glicks and Troyers. It’s supposed to be reserved for emergencies and business. I think this would qualify as a little bit of both.” Aaron peered up at the sky as if judging the time by the location of the sun. “My parents will be home soon. I doubt you would want to run into the deacon.”

  Timothy stood up from the milking stool and shook his friend’s hand. “I’ll stop by more often.”

  Aaron frowned up at him, but then he smiled. “You always say that. Don’t forget to tell Becky I’m praying for her.” He angled his chair in my direction. “It was nice to meet you, Chloe. Your hair is as pretty as I’ve been told.”

  Timothy’s mouth fell open, and Aaron chuckled, shooting me a wink.

  Chapter Thirty

  My parents’ farm isn’t far from here. Do you mind if we stop?”

  I peered at Timothy at the wheel of his pickup. My mind whirred from our conversation with Aaron, so I was glad for the distraction. “No. It will be nice to see the kids again and your grandfather. I like him a lot.”

  “He likes you too. I can tell.”

  Unlike the first time we arrived at the Troyer farm, there were no children to greet us. The front door was closed, and everything was eerily quiet.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” Timothy spoke barely above a whisper. “Mabel, stay in the truck.”

  The canine rolled over, kicking her legs in her sleep.

  We stepped through the open screen door and onto the front porch. Timothy knocked twice on the wooden door that led into the house, but no answer. He tried the knob, and shrank back. “It’s locked.”

  The third time he knocked with force, and we could hear Naomi crying on the other side of the door. Angry voices spoke back and forth in Pennsylvania Dutch.

  Finally, the door flung open and Grandfather Zook stood there on his metal crutches, his face drawn. “Timothy, your father said this isn’t a gut time.”

  “What’s going on?” The color in Timothy’s face had deepened.

  His grandfather just shook his head.

  “I’m going inside.” Timothy glanced at me. “Chloe, can you stay out here?”

  As Timothy disappeared inside the house, Grandfather Zook hobbled out onto the porch. “It’s a nice evening. I’d rather be outside. Can you walk with me a bit, Chloe?”

  Our walk went as far as the pine bench overlooking Mrs. Troyer’s vegetable garden. Grandfather Zook lowered himself onto the bench and removed his braces, placing them on the ground beside him. “Why don’t you come over here and take a seat?”

  I sat next to him.

  Grandfather Zook sighed, and for the first time he seemed like the old man that he was. “My family is from Lancaster, but my wife is from Knox County originally. I met her once when I visited Knox as a young man. I fell in love the minute I met my Louise.” He shook his head and gave a small laugh. “It took lots of letter writing to convince her to love me back and to move all the way to Lancaster. She finally did it even though her family would have preferred she marry a local boy.”

  He smoothed his beard over his shirt. “Martha, Timothy’s mother, is my oldest daughter. We had trouble with her from the get-go. She was rebellious from the day she was born. Louise and I were at our wits’ end. We were afraid for Martha, afraid she’d leave the Amish way. When she was seventeen, we shipped her to Knox County to live with my wife’s family.” He laughed again. “We wanted to scare her straight. Although I am Old Order Amish, my district back in Lancaster is much more relaxed than the one here. Much to our surprise, Martha met Simon and fell in love. She told us she was going to marry him and stay here. We were happy she was staying within our faith. Yes, the congregation here was stricter, but it seemed to be what she needed.”

  I tried to imagine Timothy’s quiet mother as a rebellious Amish teenager. The image of the demur woman acting out didn’t fit. “The rest of your family is in Lancaster, then?”

  He nodded. “They are. I have eight other children. They all have families with childre
n.”

  “Why did you move here?”

  He picked a twig off the bench and rolled it back and forth between his fingers. “Many Amish families have more than five children. Martha and her husband could have had more, but my daughter was plagued with miscarriages. I’ve told her a hundred times it wasn’t true, but she feels those miscarriages were punishment for her rebellious years.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “After my beloved wife died, all of my children asked me to live with them, including Martha. I decided to move here because she was pregnant with Naomi at the time. This was three years ago. I wanted to be with her in case the worst would happen again. The best person to be with her would have been her mother, but the Lord had already called her home.” He smiled. “Naomi was born, and she was perfect. I never went back to Lancaster. I liked the slower, quieter pace here. It was a nice place to retire and spend my final years on this earth.”

  He sighed then winked. “You can take the Amish man out of Lancaster, but you can’t take the Lancaster out of the Amish man. My son-in-law has been a good husband and provider for Martha and their children, but he’s a stern man. He listens to his bishop, his preachers, and his deacon.” He stressed deacon at the end of the sentence.

  A row of pumpkin vines in the garden were flowering. It wouldn’t be long before those flowers turned into fruit. Before we knew it, fall would be upon us. It would be my first fall in the country. I breathed it all in and turned to Grandfather Zook. “And what did those men tell him?”

  His eyes drooped, as if filled with sadness. “He should stay away from Becky and you until the business with the accident is over. He should keep the younger children from you and Becky.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “What about Timothy?”

  “The deacon didn’t mention Timothy in particular. However if Timothy continues his contact with you and his sister, I wouldn’t be surprised if the deacon returned and added that warning onto his list.”

  “Why are you telling me this? I assume the deacon gave you the same warning.”

  “He did.” Grandfather Zook stared at the whitewashed farmhouse as if trying to see through it. “I’ve learned that what is right for me is not right for my daughter. Now my son-in-law and daughter must learn that what is right for them may not be right for their own children. Louise and I had been so afraid Martha would leave the Amish, and I still believe that leaving would have been a mistake for my daughter. However, I’ve since learned there is not one right way to be obedient to the Lord.”