“Isaac and I were just going in for the midday meal.”
Under normal circumstances, anyone that visits an Amish home during a meal would be asked to join them. The Amish are generous with food, and the women prepare large portions. But because I have been excommunicated, he doesn’t ask. I don’t take it personally, but it doesn’t bode well for what I’m about to propose. “Do you and Mrs. Zook have a few minutes to talk?” I glance at Isaac. “Privately?”
“There is much work to do.”
“This won’t take long.”
He grunts an unenthusiastic reply without looking at me.
I fall in behind them. We enter the house through the back door. The kitchen is a large room and smells of frying food and cooking tomatoes. From where I stand, I can feel the heat coming off the stove. A rectangular table draped with a blue-and-white checkered cloth dominates the room. Alma stands at the stove with a spatula in her hand, turning something in a cast iron skillet. She looks at me when we enter, and offers a small smile. Canning jars rattle in boiling water, and I know she’s probably been at the stove since the wee hours of morning. Though the windows are open, the room is uncomfortably hot and I break a sweat beneath my uniform shirt.
“Hello, Katie,” Alma says.
Feeling out of place, I smile at her. “Hello, Alma.”
The table is set for four people with plates, glasses filled with water, and napkins. William takes his place at the head of the table and growls, “Sis unvergleichlich hees dohin.”
“Next month you’ll be complaining about the cold.” Alma sets a plate of fried ham, green beans, sliced tomatoes and a piece of bread slathered with apple butter in front of him.
“Wash your hands, Isaac,” she says to her son. “And tell Billy to come down.” She looks at me. “Katie, would you like to join us?”
William gives her a dark look.
Frowning, she puts her hands on her hips. “Mer sot tem sei Eegne net verlosse; Gott verlosst die Seine nicht.” One should not abandon one’s own; God does not abandon his own.
“She is under the Meidung,” William growls.
“She is in our home.”
I almost smile when William looks down at his food and concedes to his wife. Alma turns her attention to me. “I have fried ham with vegetables and bread. Would you like a plate?”
“I’m not hungry. But thank you.” I look from Alma to William. “I’m here because I need your help.”
William raises his head to look at me. “That is a first. The English police asking the Amish for help.”
Isaac and Billy wrestle into the kitchen. William speaks sharply to them. “Sit at the table, boys. We will pray.”
Eyeing me suspiciously, Billy and Isaac take the chairs to William’s right. Alma sets a basket of bread in the center of the table and then takes her place to her husband’s left. I stand near the kitchen doorway, perspiring in the sweltering heat, trying not to feel like an outsider as the family bows their heads and William recites the before meal prayer.
“O Herr Gott, himmlischer Vater, Segne uns und Diese Diene Gaben, die wir von Deiner milden Gute Zu uns nehmen warden, Speise und tranke auch unsere Seelen zum ewigen Leben, und mach uns theilhaftig Deines himmllischen Tisches durch Jesus Christum. Amen.”
Oh Lord God, heavenly Father, bless us and these thy gifts, which we shall accept from thy tender goodness. Give us food and drink also for our souls unto life eternal, and make us partakers of thy heavenly table through Jesus Christ. Amen.
Even after seventeen years, the words come back with a clarity that astonishes me. I recited that prayer a thousand times as a child. Memories fly at me out of the backwaters of my mind. My datt’s baritone voice. Sarah and Jonas and I trading food beneath the table. Mamm knowing what we were doing, but never busting us because she knew sometimes Datt’s punishments were too severe for the crime.
The memories scatter when William raises his head, grabs his fork and begins to eat. “What do you want from us?”
I didn’t want to discuss police business with the children present, but I may not get another opportunity, so I plunge ahead. “It’s about the Plank case. I need your help.”
“I do not see how we can help,” Alma says. “Billy did not see the man clearly—”
“The killer doesn’t know that.”
William and Alma look at me. Isaac stops eating and looks at me, a green bean sticking out the side of his mouth. Only Billy continues chewing, oblivious to the conversation. “I do not understand,” William says after a moment.
“I want to set a trap. Make the killer believe Billy was a witness. To do that, I need access to your farm for a few days. So I can lure the killer here.”
Alma opens her mouth to speak, but William beats her to it. “I will not allow you to put my family in danger.”
“That is too dangerous for Billy,” Alma says simultaneously.