Murder Tightly Knit Page 8

  “I’ll help with Shiloh,” he muttered.

  “And I’ll run and tell Mamm we’re taking care of the buggy.” She started toward the house, then turned back toward him. “Don’t leave. I’m coming right back out.”

  “Huh?” Jesse had exited the buggy, too, and was holding on to Shiloh’s halter. “Oh, ya. Okay.”

  Hannah closed her eyes, praying for patience and courage.

  Then she rushed inside and explained to her mother she’d eat a sandwich after Jesse left.

  “Take him some of the cookies, Hannah. I was hoping Jesse would come in. I baked these an hour ago and most of them disappeared, but I kept a few away from your siblings.”

  “And Dat.”

  “Ya, he has a sweet tooth too.”

  Hannah accepted the cloth napkin, wrapped around still-warm oatmeal cookies. She hurried out to the barn.

  Jesse stood there brushing Shiloh, something he didn’t need to do. Her brother would have taken care of it the next morning. But perhaps Jesse needed the moments with the horse. Perhaps spending some time caring for the gelding calmed the agitated places in his soul. Hannah felt that way when she quilted or crocheted or knitted, when she needed to quiet the noise in her mind.

  She waited and watched him for a few moments. Then she walked back out into the main room of the barn, picked up two milking buckets, and brought them into Shiloh’s stall. She turned them upside down. Jesse had already placed a cup of oats in Shiloh’s bin. She took the brush from his hand and returned it to the shelf where they kept grooming tools. Then she covered Jesse’s hand with hers and pulled him toward the buckets, where she sat down on one of them.

  “Let’s talk.”

  “Talk?” Jesse plopped down on the other bucket.

  “Yes. Tell me what has you so distracted. You haven’t been yourself all evening.”

  Jesse wiped his hands against his pants, then sat forward—elbows on knees and his gaze directed toward the floor of the stall. “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “We’re freinden. Start there.”

  She expected him to give her a sheepish smile. That’s what the Jesse she knew—the Jesse she loved—would have done. Instead, he worked some dirt out from under a fingernail and shrugged.

  “Why are you afraid to talk to me?”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know!” He stood and walked to the other side of the stall, then commenced pacing back and forth across the small area. “Everything’s off somehow. I don’t understand what to make of it all, and I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much, but it is.”

  “It’s okay to be upset about something.”

  “Maybe I’m imagining it.”

  “Doubtful. Your imagination isn’t that good.”

  Instead of laughing, Jesse stared at her. Finally he returned to the bucket and sat down. “You’re right. I don’t usually see what isn’t there. Remember when we had that project in school to write a story about someone you’d never met?”

  “It’s the only paper I can remember that you failed.”

  “Ya. My focus is usually on the things I see.”

  “So what have you seen?”

  “Owen’s death. Actually, I heard of it. I didn’t see it. Then Andrew showing up the same day, the same morning.”

  Hannah’s heart thumped against her chest. “You don’t think Andrew was involved?”

  “How could he be? But he hasn’t said why he’s back.”

  “Maybe—”

  “He hasn’t said how long he’s staying.”

  “If you—”

  “And he’s sneaking around, which isn’t like Andrew. He’s always been bold about his rebellion before.”

  “He’s not a child anymore, Jesse. He’s a man. Same as you are.”

  “But what is he involved in? How can I protect my parents when they think he’s the prodigal son returned?”

  “I doubt your parents need protecting.”

  “They do, Hannah. You didn’t see them after Andrew left the last time.”

  “I did—”

  “Nein. You saw the face they presented in public—at church and work-ins. But at home? They were completely different, broken in some way. These trials with Andrew, they’ve aged my folks. Just when we seem to reach some sort of balance, he returns. It’s not fair. I don’t want to see them hurt by him again.”

  Hannah reached over and claimed one of his hands in hers. “It’s gut to care for your family, but perhaps you’re borrowing trouble.”

  “I don’t think so.” Jesse told Hannah about his worries. It seemed to her that he left out nothing, describing his temper, which he had to hold constantly in check, his frustration, and the way his family was openly embracing Andrew once more.

  “You need to go and talk to him.”

  “To Andrew?”

  “Who else? Yes, Andrew. Your bruder. Talk to him about your concerns.”

  Jesse considered that but didn’t answer. Finally he said, “I haven’t tried that yet. I’m afraid the more I know, the more I’ll need to know. I’m afraid any answers Andrew gives will only result in more questions. Questions that I’m not sure I want the answers to.”

  They walked outside, underneath the canopy of stars. Hannah stopped and stared up at the thousands of points of light. She had read about how sailors in the old times used the stars to guide their way. It seemed to her that God had placed them there for her as well, for her and Jesse. The beautiful lights in the night sky struck her as a promise that he wouldn’t leave them in darkness. He would help them through whatever it was that was happening.

  She handed him the napkin with the cookies. “From Mamm, for your walk home.”

  “It’s barely half a mile.”

  “Wouldn’t want you losing your strength.”

  He pulled her to him then, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his chin against the top of her head. “You’re perfect for me. You realize that, right?”

  Her heart tripped, and she almost reached up to kiss him. Instead, she stepped back and smiled. They were able to see each other by the light streaming through the sitting-room window of her home. His expression was one of love. She knew that without a doubt. As she watched Jesse, he reached up, resettled his hat, and stared at her. She thought he was about to say something.

  He didn’t.

  Instead, he stepped away, though he still held her hand as they walked to the front of the house. Would their relationship always be this way? She wanted him to be open and honest with her, but it seemed at times that he held back. Though she was certain he cared for her, she couldn’t help worrying sometimes. A man and a woman needed to be truthful with each other—in all things. Maybe they weren’t ready for a relationship. Maybe they had rushed things.

  But it wasn’t the words of love he didn’t utter that bothered her the most. It was the words he said before he turned down the lane that broke her heart. “I wish Andrew hadn’t come home. I wish he’d left us alone.”

  Twelve

  Amber brushed out her hair while sitting in front of the old-fashioned dressing table. An off-white princess style, it had been designed with an oval mirror in the middle and a single drawer in the center. The matching bench she sat on was covered with a pink fabric. The set had belonged to her mom, and her sister had brought it up to Middlebury four years ago—nearly five years ago now that she thought about it.

  Some days she still had trouble accepting that her parents were gone. They’d enjoyed a good and productive life. There was no tragedy there. It was more that she wasn’t ready to be an orphan, even at the age of forty-five. Her dad had died of a heart attack at the age of seventy-four. Cancer had claimed her mother six months later, though in fact Amber knew her mom had won over that dreadful disease. She’d never given in emotionally or spiritually. Her mom was a mere seventy-one years old when she’d passed from this life to the next. Amber had been stunned at the double loss of b
oth parents so close together. If there was any silver lining, it was that she and her sister had become extremely close.

  Madison still lived in Topeka, Kansas, in their parents’ home. She visited Middlebury every other year, and Amber tried to get back to Topeka in the alternate years. The last time Madison had been to see her was for their wedding. She’d arrived a week early so they could spend plenty of time together.

  Family had always been important to Amber, more so the older she grew. Perhaps that was part of the reason she was having trouble with her emotions this evening. Her mind seemed to be at least two steps behind her heart.

  “I think you’ve reached a hundred brushes, so why don’t you come to bed?”

  She glanced up and caught Tate studying her, his book lowered, Leo purring on the pillow next to his head.

  “It’s like sit-ups. A few extra never hurt.”

  “Yes, but Leo is eager to spend some quality time with you.”

  “He told you that, did he?”

  “Pretty much. Your cat tolerates me, but he adores you.”

  “And I adore you both right back.”

  “See what I mean?” Tate scowled at the yellow cat. “We’re in competition, you and me. May the best male win.”

  “Tell me you’re not jealous of a cat.” Amber pulled back the covers on her side of the bed and slipped in between the sheets. Leo immediately moved to lie on her feet and resumed his purring.

  “That would be ridiculous,” Tate agreed, though he continued scowling at the cat.

  “Still reading that history book?”

  “Yes. Indiana sounds like a different place when I read this.” He closed the book and tapped the cover. “The way this author describes Elkhart Prairie and Little Elkhart River, well, it sounds like something from a dream.”

  “Probably a more peaceful time then. I doubt folks killed each other with crossbows.”

  “I’m not sure. It’s always tempting to romanticize the past. Though things were simpler, it was a harsh time and violence wasn’t unheard of.”

  Amber thought about that a minute, then shrugged. “If you were reading a good novel, you’d be finished already.”

  “I don’t want to be finished. I enjoy reading slowly.” He drew out the last word as she snuggled into his arms. When she didn’t respond, Tate asked, “Still worried about Mary?”

  “Yes. When Pam told me all that has been going on, it made me wonder if I should contact Mary’s parents.”

  “She’s how old?”

  “Thirty.”

  “Would you have appreciated someone contacting your parents at that age?”

  “Well, no. But—”

  “So she closed the store at lunch a few days. Pam spoke to her about it, and I expect it won’t happen again.”

  “What about the mysterious man she was with?” Amber sat up, plumped her pillow, and leaned back against it. “And did I tell you about the envelope of money Pam found in her shop?”

  “Not our business.”

  “I would agree normally. Pam only went into the shop because something tripped the alarm. When she reached under the counter to shut it off, the envelope fell off the shelf and the cash fell out.”

  “Maybe she was setting back some of her paycheck each week. We can’t know.”

  Amber sighed and crossed her arms. What Tate said made sense, except who put her own name on an envelope full of money? And wouldn’t she have kept it at home instead of at work? Most important, why was the name and number for an ob/gyn doctor in Nappanee also on the envelope?

  Mary’s confession that she had been helping Amish men and women who had left the community explained some of the strange happenings, but not all of them. Something was not right with the entire situation, but Amber couldn’t put her finger on the problem.

  “I’m worried about her.”

  “Thirty-year-olds have minds of their own. Not much you can do but let them know you care and offer help, which they usually turn down.”

  An image of Tate’s older son, Collin, popped into Amber’s mind. Collin was married with a seven-year-old daughter named Camille. Amber had held high hopes about being a good grandmother, but some days she wondered if Collin would ever give her the chance. “Now I believe you’re talking about a certain twenty-eight-year-old.”

  “It’s possible.” Tate rolled to his side and ran his fingers up and down her arm.

  “When we married, I thought we’d be one happy family. It hasn’t quite turned out that way.” Amber’s heart twisted when she thought of the last few calls from Collin. They’d arranged to have him come visit twice, but both times Collin had changed his mind. Amber wasn’t sure how his wife, Brenda, felt about her or how she viewed Tate’s remarrying. Amber had spent so little time with the family that she couldn’t begin to guess.

  “Give him time. He’ll come around. Not to mention Alan thinks you’re tops.”

  “Yes, your younger son and I hit it off right away, probably because we’re both business majors.”

  “And you’re both Colts fans.”

  “How can Collin not like the Colts?”

  “I believe they broke his heart when he was a teenager. He’s been a Bears fan since.”

  “Who up and changes their team like that?”

  “You changed when you moved here.”

  “Not the same. I’ve been away from Kansas longer than I lived there. Why would I still feel any loyalty to the Chiefs?”

  “Why do you care about football at all? Still strikes me as a miracle that I fell in love with a woman who is beautiful, manages a complex that includes a bakery, and roots for my football team.”

  She scrunched back down under the covers next to him, and Tate reached over and turned out the light.

  “But I want Collin to like me.”

  “He will, when he gets to know you.”

  “If he doesn’t avoid us forever.”

  “He said he’d be here for Thanksgiving.”

  Amber ran her fingers across Tate’s cheek. She liked the feel of his whiskers in the evening, though he shaved them smooth and clean each morning. “It’s not like I expected or even want to take the place of his mother.”

  Tate claimed her hand in his and kissed it once. “Collin was especially close to Peggy. He misses her still, but he will come around. Some people need more time than others.”

  “And Mary?”

  “Perhaps she needs more time too. Maybe, given a few more days, she’ll talk to you about what’s happening and how you can help.”

  Amber fell asleep praying that was true. Praying for Mary and her safety. Praying for Collin, that the barrier so evident between them would fall. And praying for Tate, thanking the Lord he had seen fit to give her such a good man. Her last thought as she submitted to the pull of a deep sleep was that God’s blessings had been abundant, and he would see them through whatever lay ahead.

  Jesse woke in the middle of the night and realized someone was moving around his room. He reached for his flashlight and flipped it on. Andrew barely looked up. He was fully dressed and tying his shoes.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “That would explain putting on my shoes.”

  “Not to mention that jacket you’re wearing.”

  “That too.” Andrew’s voice was matter-of-fact, and he no longer wore the smile he’d had plastered on his face since arriving home.

  Jesse swung his legs to the floor and sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

  “What time is it?”

  “Too late for you to be up, baby bruder.”

  “I’m the baby bruder? Look who’s acting like a child. Aren’t you a little old to be sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am.” Andrew picked up the money he’d dropped onto the nightstand between their twin beds. “So maybe I’m not sneaking.”

  “Sure looks like it. And where are you going, anyway? You must be into something you shouldn’t be or you wouldn’t need to cre
ep out at . . .” Jesse shone the light on the small battery-operated clock sitting on the nightstand. “Two a.m.”

  “Keep your voice down or you’re going to wake Mamm and Dat.”

  “I’m going to wake them?” Jesse fought against the urge to shout at his brother, but his anger was building. He wanted to grab Andrew and shake him. “How about your sneaking around is going to wake them? Not to mention once they realize you’re not here to stay you’ll break their hearts again.”

  “Go back to sleep.” Andrew stepped out of the room. Jesse could tell he was carefully avoiding the places on the steps that creaked and groaned as he descended the stairs. Apparently some things about home you never forget. The two of them had been avoiding the noisy side of the staircase for years.

  Jesse threw on his clothes and shoes and hurried downstairs after him. Andrew was already out of the house and out of sight, but Jesse knew where he’d find him.

  He slipped out the back door as stealthily as Andrew had. Crossing the yard, he didn’t worry about making noise. The night had turned cool, and he was sure all the windows in the house behind him were closed. No one would hear them now. When he stepped inside the barn, he wasn’t surprised to find Andrew had lit a lantern. He did find it curious that his brother was pawing through his backpack in the middle of the night.

  “Why not take the whole thing?”

  “I might need to get in and out quickly. The less I carry with me, the better.” Andrew pulled out his cell phone, a piece of paper, and a pen. He zipped up the backpack and placed it behind the pails their mother used for harvesting vegetables.

  “Mamm might be done with those, but Dat will start cleaning this place up next week. He does it every October. He’s going to find your pack.”

  “I know. I remember the fall cleaning.” Andrew’s smile turned wolfish. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll take care of it before next week.”

  “What does that mean?”

  When Andrew reached to turn off the gas lantern, Jesse stayed his hand.

  “What does that mean . . . before next week?”

  Andrew shook his head.

  “Does it mean you’ll be gone again by next week?”

  “I can’t talk about that right now.”