chapter 13
ESTHER WAS IN THE KITCHEN, scrubbing vegetables in the sink, when she saw the first of the buggies traveling down the lane. By the time they trundled past the pond, the same pond where she’d once stopped to pick flowers and found a young girl’s body, she was standing on the front porch, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
“Simon asleep?” Tobias asked her, loping up onto the porch in three long strides. He stood close, as if he needed to protect her, but they both knew the buggies approaching carried friends.
Friends who needed their help.
“He’s awake, but in his crib. I thought it best to leave him there for the moment.”
Tobias glanced back through the screen door.
“Don’t worry.” Esther reached up, touched the beard that had come in so thick during the past year. “We’ll hear him through the open window if he cries.”
A grin spread across Tobias’ face. “Ya. His cry is healthy.”
“How would you know? You jump up in the middle of the night before his second yelp is out of his mouth.” She meant it half as a tease and half as a scold. She feared her husband was spoiling their son, and Esther was not one to indulge a child. But Tobias didn’t even bother to deny it. The smile on his face grew, and he even chuckled. He was impossible. He was worse than Leah on Christmas.
“Mamm, is everyone coming to dinner?” Leah, Esther’s three-year-old daughter from her first marriage, put down the two dolls she’d been playing with on the porch swing and walked over to join them.
“Yes, Leah.”
“Like on Sundays?”
“Just like on Sundays,” Tobias said.
There were now four buggies in sight, and Esther wouldn’t relax until at least one Englisch car had been added to the mix. She wanted her friends near her and safe. She wanted this thing to be over.
Melinda pulled up first. All three children were riding with her. Noah had brought the second buggy, and Esther wondered about that. Did it mean he wasn’t intending to stay?
Behind them Deborah drove her smaller buggy, and Jonas drove the large buggy filled with all five of their children.
They’d barely come to a stop when Reuben walked out of the barn he insisted on living in despite the fact that there was plenty of room in the house. Over dinner last night she’d once again asked him why he wouldn’t move into the extra bedroom, but Reuben had simply scratched his sideburns, winked, and said he expected that room would be full before very long.
Reuben was Tobias’ cousin, but the two might as well have been brothers. They’d worked the farm together for years. Perhaps they were close because they’d both waited to marry, which was unusual in their community. Reuben was still single. Sometimes she wondered if he would always be single. There was a story there Esther still hadn’t heard — a story Tobias claimed he didn’t know. She hoped Reuben would share it with her one day, but she realized it might remain a mystery. He was private about some things.
One thing Esther was sure of: his heart had been broken long ago and he hadn’t allowed himself to love again.
But despite how close they were, Reuben and Tobias didn’t look alike — both were tall men, but any similarities ended there. Whereas Tobias was thin like a poplar tree, Reuben reminded Esther of the sycamore. He was a big man with the most tender heart she’d ever encountered. That he’d nearly been convicted of a murder he didn’t commit and nearly had to spend his entire life in jail still astounded her. That he would be willing to be convicted in order to save a young Amish man from the Englisch justice system was something she didn’t understand at all. Esther was raised to embrace and practice grace; yet Reuben’s actions exceeded anything she’d ever encountered. Even her own dealings with the boys who had accidentally killed her first husband weren’t the same. In that accident, those involved had come directly to her almost immediately to confess and ask her forgiveness.
Reuben’s situation was entirely different.
Wasn’t it?
Before she could worry over the questions any longer, Melinda’s and Deborah’s children tumbled out of their respective buggies — Aaron helped into his wheelchair by Noah.
The men immediately turned to tending to the mares.
“I should go help with the horses,” Tobias murmured. He ran his hand across the back of her neck, and then he was gone.
Even after a year, she wasn’t accustomed to his devotion.
Even after a year, she sometimes woke afraid it was all a dream and that she would find herself still alone.
“Has anyone heard from Callie?” Esther asked, meeting them halfway between their buggies and the house.
“Shane told Noah they’d be here in time for dinner,” Melinda said.
“We stopped at the phone shack,” Deborah added. “There were no messages.”
As Esther watched the children, she could almost believe it was a normal evening. She wanted to believe that, but her heart told her otherwise.
“Yes, you may go and play,” Melinda said to Matthew. “But stay close so you’ll hear us call.”
“Martha, will you take Joshua?” Deborah asked as her youngest ran to his big sister.
“Sure,” Martha said.
“Mamm, may I pick some of Esther’s flowers?” Mary asked, tugging on her mother’s hand.
“Not the ones from the garden.”
“The wild ones? In the field?”
“As long as you watch for snakes.”
“We’ll walk with her,” Martha assured Deborah.
“We brought a baseball and a bat,” Matt interrupted, pointing to a canvas bag in Aaron’s lap.
“Baseball or flowers?” Martha asked Mary.
“Can we do both?”
“If we hurry.”
“Best place for baseball is behind the barn.” Esther nodded toward the east pasture.
“Yes!” Jacob and Joseph, Deborah’s six-year-old twins, bounded away.
“Stay clear of any mud,” Deborah called out after them.
Esther pressed her fingers to her lips, trying to stop the laugh that wanted out. These were not laughing times, but Deborah’s boys … they did have a way of finding trouble.
“Why are you smiling, Esther Fisher?” Deborah climbed the steps and dropped onto the wooden swing.
“I’m not.” She did her best to appear serious.
“You might as well confess. We both saw you,” Melinda said.
“It’s your boys, Deborah.”
“They would make any sane person laugh,” Deborah agreed.
“Or cry.” Melinda set Hannah down on a blanket, dug a picture book from her bag, and handed it to her.
“It’s not that they’re bad,” Deborah said. “It’s that they seem to be able to create work, no matter how hard they try not to.”
“I was thinking …” Esther trailed off and shook her head.
“Say it.” Deborah set the swing in motion. “After today I could use the distraction.”
“I was thinking how much they remind me of Jonas. Do you remember when we were their age? How he would always go out at recess. We’d be playing, and he’d —”
“Disappear.” Melinda looked up from her place on the blanket beside Hannah. “I always wondered where he went.”
“To the creek? To the water pump? Who knows. I was busy playing with you two, so it never occurred to me to ask him. I didn’t know I was going to marry him and bear his children.” Deborah laughed.
“He always came back muddy or with a critter or —”
“With something bleeding or broken.” Deborah stopped the swing with her foot. “You’re right. I should have known. They take after their father.”
Somehow the moment of shared memories eased the worries of the day. They smiled, the three of them, and Esther felt the knot of worry that had been building at the base of her neck relax.
“I was washing vegetables. I left them in the sink.”
“I’ll help,” Deborah said.
A piercing cry split the afternoon’s peace.
“Bring me that sweet boppli before Tobias gets here and steals him away,” Melinda said. “I’ll be happy to rock him.”
“You’re lucky to have the chance,” Esther said to Melinda.
As they walked inside to pick up Simon and finish the vegetables, she admitted to Deborah, “I told Melinda earlier. Tobias is spoiling this child. I barely have the chance to hold him myself — mostly when Tobias is in the field.”
“Remember, it’s his first.”
“Ya. With Leah I did jump as soon as she cried — in the beginning.” Esther gazed down at her son. He was beautiful. “Then Mamm told me that I didn’t have to hurry so. That it wouldn’t hurt her if I walked slowly from the clothesline into the house to answer cries. She wasn’t hurt, only calling me, and as long as she knew I would answer, it was all right to go at a measured pace.”
Deborah leaned over the crib, reached forward, and caressed the top of Simon’s head. “Be glad that Tobias cares for him so much, Esther, and that he’s willing to help. Some men aren’t.”
“You’re right. It’s only that I don’t want a child who’s rotten.” She laughed. “You’ve seen them, Deborah, so don’t look at me so. We’ve both seen them — Amish and Englisch.”
“I have, and I know you won’t have one. Look at Leah. You’ve done a fine job with her.”
Esther smiled. She loved her daughter, and she was grateful God had given her this second chance to have a family. Deborah was right — she shouldn’t worry so. It seemed with babies there was always something to be anxious about.
As she picked up Simon, carried him to Melinda, and returned to finish preparing dinner, it occurred to her that she’d rather fret over those everyday things.
They helped to take her mind off the thought of a murderer traipsing around Shipshewana searching for Melinda’s son.
Callie stared at her cell phone until it said 7:15 p.m., then she walked out the door, pulling it shut behind her and testing the knob to be sure it was locked. Her eyes were on the garden though. Gavin had told her to walk there at 7:15 exactly — not a minute before or after.
He’d also told her to be sure to lock the shop’s front door behind her.
She’d wanted to laugh earlier this afternoon when she’d walked up to the elderly man sitting by the windows — as Shane’s note had directed — and asked him if he needed any help. He’d lowered the quilting magazine he was supposedly reading, smiled slightly, and said, “Tea would be nice.”
If she hadn’t already been standing close enough to see through the old-man clothing and dusty powder that aged his skin, those four words would have given him away. Gavin’s voice flowed over her like a welcome fall thunderstorm after a long rainless summer.
They’d hustled over to the small kitchen, where they’d huddled in the corner for five minutes and he’d explained the plan. The disguise he’d worn had been great from a distance, but up close, Callie wanted to take a wet cloth and wipe the powder off his face.
She wanted to remove the hat and replace it with the ball cap he wore when jogging with Max.
She wanted to put her head against his chest and weep.
Instead she squared her shoulders and agreed to a plan she did not understand. She stayed in her shop all day, tending to customers. She stopped worrying Creeper would find a way inside and instead tried picking out who replaced Gavin as her guardian. Gavin had assured her Shane was rotating people into the shop every ninety minutes. It became a game of sorts to figure out which “customer” was really an undercover officer.
Callie knew her customers well and had become adept at recognizing the out-of-town types. Who-doesn’t-fit-here wasn’t so hard once one knew what to look for. Then there was the fact that since she’d moved to Shipshe, she’d become quite familiar with most of the officers working for the Shipshewana Police Department. A few of her guardians were from neighboring towns, but they all had the same watchful look — no matter how they tried to conceal it. Makeup could hide age. A wig could change hair color and style, but when someone was protecting another person’s life, their entire physique took on another bearing. An undercover cop could hide behind a newspaper, slouch against a wall, even sit and text on a cell phone. But their eyes? Their eyes were ever vigilant. Soon Callie found she could pick them out within ten minutes of their entering the shop.
The question was: would Creeper also be able to pick them out of a crowd? Probably not. Certainly not if he was looking through binoculars. At least Callie didn’t think so. The fact that someone was in the store with her, aware of her problem, and armed was enough to calm Callie’s nerves and allow her to focus on running the shop.
She ate lunch standing at the counter, and she watched over Lydia like a mother hen. It had crossed her mind to tell Lydia to take the day off, but there was no way the girl would have agreed. It did help ease Callie’s mind that she’d found a way to bar Deborah and baby Joshua from the store.
She shooed all of her customers out at six p.m. sharp and straightened the shop like she did every night, then she changed into jeans and her baggiest black T-shirt as if she were planning to take a walk around her garden, maybe mourn the fact that Max hadn’t returned.
Looking lost without Max was easy enough to fake, since it was true. Doc England had called and said her dog was doing fine, but the toenail removal needed watching overnight to ensure there wasn’t any infection. There was no toenail removal, and Callie wanted to know if Max had fully recovered from the tranquilizer’s drugs. But she didn’t dare ask in case one of the customers in the store was Creeper or his accomplice, though she still didn’t expect to see either one. Better be safe and follow Shane’s plan, which included silence on the subject of Max. Instead she thanked her vet, assured him she’d check back again the next day, and hung up the phone.
Now she walked across the parking lot toward her garden. She refused to look toward the area still marked off with crime-scene tape. Instead she concentrated on the cool breeze. She hadn’t stepped outside all day, had been afraid to leave Lydia alone even for a moment. The breeze spoke of freedom and eased some of the anxiety in her shoulders.
Darkness settled around her.
She forgot to wonder what might happen next.
Then she heard a rustling in the corner of her garden and instinctively grabbed the hoe leaning against her fence.
Perla’s voice was soft, musical, and not terribly amused at the moment. “Put it down, Callie. Last thing I need is a hoe upside my head.”
When she stepped through the brush, Callie could see that Perla was wearing clothes identical to what Callie was currently wearing — blue jeans and a black T-shirt.
“What are you doing here?”
“Being you. Did you leave the back door unlocked like Gavin said?”
“Yes, and I locked the front. Why do you have to be me?”
“Because you’re not staying here tonight.” Perla glanced toward the far side of the garden and Callie spotted him.
Shane held back, but enough light remained to see his outline. He’d lost the chain-saw disguise Gavin had told her about and was once again wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a Cubs ball cap. Callie had the strongest desire to go to him and melt into his arms.
Instead she stayed where she was, clutching the hoe.
“Put the hoe down and get out of here. Won’t look right with there being two of us.”
“Two of us?”
Shane remained in the shadows, beckoning her without a move, without lifting a muscle.
“Tienes que ir.” Perla moved toward the back door of the shop as Callie glanced toward Shane. “No es necesario entender.”
Callie’s Spanish had grown rusty since leaving Texas, but she understood what Perla was saying well enough. There was little about this mess that made sense to her, but she knew to follow Perla’s instructions.
She moved toward Shane — slowly first, but then more quickly as she saw the look of concern in his eyes. When she reached him he took her hand in his, wordlessly, and pulled her deeper into the darkness.
They didn’t speak until they’d crept three blocks, wound their way down two alleys, and found his car. Once the doors were closed and he’d locked them — manually, the Buick was too old to sport automatic locks — Callie turned toward him in the darkness, trying to decide which question to ask first.
She never had a chance.
He pulled her into his arms, pulled her right across the front leather seat, and pressed his lips to hers. She didn’t have time to think about whether it was right or wrong.
All thoughts of the perpetrator fled.
Her mind focused on Shane and the feel of his arms around her.
Shane, running his fingers through her hair.
Shane and the night and the darkness acting like a blanket pulled close, wrapping her in their warmth.
When he finally released her, he still didn’t start the car. Instead he sat there, staring out the front window, his arm still wrapped around her shoulder.
“What was that about?” she whispered.
“I have no idea.”
“Seriously?”
“Look—” She sensed him shaking his head in the darkness. “— I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Great.”
“Not what I meant.” He pulled her even closer, ran a hand up and down her arm, sending shivers all the way to her toes. “I know now isn’t the right time, but I needed …” He blew out a sigh. “I needed it, all right? I needed to know you were fine.”
“That was a health check? Kissing me?” She was pretty sure she should be offended.
He turned toward her, kissed her again, but this time softly, lightly. “Yeah. I guess.”
Pulling in a deep breath, she closed her eyes, envisioned a field of Texas wildflowers, then released the breath slowly. It did nothing for the butterflies in her stomach, but it did help clear her mind somewhat. “I’m glad I could ease your worries, Black.”
“I wanted to stop by earlier, but then a Smart Car tried to run over Melinda’s boys.”
“Gavin stopped by after his shift and told me about that. He also assured me everyone was fine.”
“They are.” He started the car and buckled his seat belt, but when she attempted to move toward the passenger door he stopped her, showed her where the middle seat buckle was.
Once they were both safely fastened — as if that could save them from a criminal bent on murder should he try to smash them with a miniature car — Shane pulled out into the street and turned on his lights.
Callie forced herself to forget the kiss and the emotions tumbling from her head to her heart to her stomach. What mattered right now was the investigation.
“It was Creeper?”
“I’m willing to bet it was the same perp. He was wearing a mask, but who else would it be? Look … we need to get out to Reuben’s.”
“Reuben’s?”
The part of town they were driving through was closed up for the night. Any pedestrian traffic was farther downtown. He pulled up to a stop sign. Beneath the streetlight Callie could make out Shane’s features, the worry in his eyes, and how the last twenty-four hours had taken their toll. He turned to her, framed her face with his hands, and wouldn’t look away until she met his eyes.
“Melinda, Deborah, Esther, all the kids — the men too — they’re all at Reuben’s. Gavin’s on shift right now, but he and Taylor will be out later. We’re going to figure this out, Callie. You believe me, right?”
She tried not to lose herself in his gaze. She wasn’t ready for this relationship. She’d thought maybe she was, after what had happened with Reuben, after the scene outside Timothy and Rachel Lapp’s house in Goshen. The first few times he’d called over the last year, they’d talked for hours, but it had frightened her. So the next time he called, she hadn’t answered. It had been immature of her, but Callie hadn’t known what else to do.
Those talks had made her realize how alone she felt.
They’d made her dare to want more, but wanting more was dangerous.
She’d had more with Rick, and she’d lost everything.
As Shane cupped her face in his hands, she found she couldn’t look away. And she didn’t want to. As she gazed straight into Shane’s dark eyes she lost her footing, felt herself falling, and she didn’t care anymore.
There was no middle ground. It was either trust and take the leap, or back up and somehow endure this thing alone.
“Yeah, I trust you.” That wasn’t what he’d asked her. She realized that, and when he kissed her again, she knew he realized that as well. Believing him was one thing — that was actually easy. Trusting him? For Callie, that was a leap of faith.
Shane turned his attention back to his driving, the sound of the Buick filled the night, and Callie understood this time she had no choice.
She needed him.