“Come to think of it, I’m sure he’s simply here to follow up on everything that happened today. Walter Snow’s body
was
essentially found outside my back door.” Still, she couldn’t keep from taking a quick peek in the mirror. Satisfied with what she saw, she headed toward the swinging door, stopping as she reached it. “Can we talk more about the note later?”
“Of course.” Diane pulled open the door of the floor-to-ceiling cabinet that housed the evening’s dishes and pulled out five—two for the newlyweds, two for the Bakers, and one for Arnie. “But don’t rush, okay? Enjoy your time with the detective.”
Her time with the detective …
“You’re incorrigible, Aunt Diane. You know that, don’t you?”
“No, I just have a keen sense of reality.”
Claire paused, her hand on the door. “And what reality would that be?”
“The detective has noticed.”
“Noticed?” she asked, studying her aunt closely. “Noticed what?”
“You, dear.”
S
he peered at Jakob across her wine glass and silently marveled at her aunt’s ability to orchestrate an entire evening with nothing more than a smile and a well-timed head tilt. It was a gift, quite frankly. A gift Claire herself hadn’t been bestowed.
“This is the best beef stew I’ve ever eaten.” Plucking his napkin from his lap, Jakob set it on the table beside his plate and pushed his chair back a few inches. “Do you cook like this, too?”
“I kind of got away from cooking when I lived in the city, but it’s coming back now, thanks to Diane.”
“Oh?”
Claire nodded. “She’s even let me take the lead on a few of the meals.”
“No, I mean, what made you get away from it when you lived in the city? Didn’t your apartment have a kitchen?” Jakob teased.
“It had one. But cooking for two and always eating alone has a way of making takeout look attractive.” Claire pushed her hands into the air above her head, then let them drop back down to her lap. “But helping Diane cook for all her guests and having them appreciate our efforts in the way that they do has brought a little of the fun back.”
“He thought you odd for liking simplicity, and he didn’t come home for dinners you prepared,” Jakob said, tracing his index finger around the mouth of his wine goblet. “So what drew you to this guy in the first place?”
“That’s hard to remember these days.” It was a simple answer but no less accurate. “Which is why I’d prefer to focus on my now. Less second-guessing that way.”
“Ahhh. Second-guessing. I know about that.” Pushing his wine glass to the side, Jakob leaned back in his seat, his eyes taking on a faraway quality before narrowing back on her. “You must be wondering how I can be Esther’s uncle and not be Amish.”
“I think I’ve put two and two together.”
“If I’d left during Rumspringa, they wouldn’t have shunned me the way that they did. But I didn’t. I came back. And then, after I was baptized, I decided I had to be a cop. I couldn’t spend my life farming when bad things were happening.”
She listened to his words, tried them on for size. “How old were you when you left?”
“Nineteen.”
“Nineteen,” she repeated softly. “So Esther was what? Three?”
“Almost four.”
Tipping forward, he reached into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. He flipped it open and turned the empty sleeve of pictures for her to see. “With the ban against pictures
I had growing up, I was left to just my memories all these years.”
She swallowed over the pain that rose up in her throat. “You’re a brave man, Jakob Fisher.”
A bitter, almost sarcastic laugh emerged from the detective. “Brave?”
“Far braver than I am, that’s for sure.”
Cocking his head to the right, he studied her closely. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I was running from my mistakes when I came here to Heavenly.” Slowly, deliberately, she reached past the last swallow of wine that remained in her goblet and grabbed hold of her water glass. “You, on the other hand, knowingly charged into enemy territory when you came back here.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But at least by being here I can see my loved ones’ faces once in a while.”
“Are you content with that?” she asked.
“I have to be.”
She considered arguing but knew it was futile. The Amish had rules, and Jakob had broken them. Mostly, she just felt bad for him.
“I made my choice to come back here, and now I have to live with it. I just didn’t realize how my past would make it so difficult to do my job.”
She thought back to that afternoon, to the tension in the air at the simple notion that Jakob would have questions to ask of the Amish. “I could help, you know.”
“Oh?”
“I’m close to Esther, and, through her, Eli. I just met Benjamin, but he seems nice, and—”
“Looks can be deceiving, Claire.” An unmistakable cloud rolled across Jakob’s face, taking with it any semblance of warmth.
She drew back. “So that … that whatever it was between you and Benjamin in my shop was more than just your being shunned?”
“Much more.”
“I … I mean I just met him today, but he seemed so nice.” She heard the incredulousness in her voice but could do little to stop it. His words and his attitude just didn’t mesh with what she knew. “Why, he drops off fresh milk for his sister every morning before any of our shops are even open.”
Jakob grabbed his goblet, downing the last of his wine. “That’s Benjamin Miller for you. Always helping. Always nice. Always doing everything better than the next guy.” A momentary pause gave way to a weary shake of his head. “Gosh, I sound bitter, don’t I?”
“You must have your reasons.” She pushed back her chair, stood, and felt the flutter in her chest at the instantaneous disappointment on his face.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get all heavy on you.”
“You didn’t. I just feel like sitting on the swing. Will you join me?”
The corners of his mouth lifted upward as he, too, vacated his chair and crossed the porch to Claire’s favorite piece of furniture. Together, they sat down, the weight of their bodies and the synchronized motion starting them off in a swing. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”
Resting her head against the back of the swing, Claire closed her eyes and inhaled, the last of Diane’s stew wafting its way onto the porch from the parlor’s open window. “It certainly helps lighten the day a bit.”
Jakob sighed. “It sure was a doozy, wasn’t it? I’m in town less than a week, and Heavenly has its second murder? Only this time, rather than an Amish man being killed, it appears as if an Amish man was behind the crime.”
She sucked in her breath as her eyes flew open. “You can’t truly believe what that woman said about Eli, can you? I mean, he’s hot tempered, sure, but he’s got a big heart.”
Running a hand through his hair, Jakob released an actual moan. “Yeah, but Esther was right. He was arrested about six months ago outside a bar in Breeze Point.”
She closed her eyes again. “He’s not allowed to be in bars, is he?”
“Outside his Rumspringa, no. But at that time, it happens.”
She shifted on the swing enough to afford a better view of Jakob’s face, worried lines and all. “So if it happens, how does that point to the possibility he might have murdered Walter Snow?”
“It doesn’t. The reason he got arrested, does.”
She waited for him to fill in the gaps.
“He smashed a glass bottle over the head of an Englishman during an argument. Guy had to get five stitches.”
“So he had a fight.”
“Witnesses interviewed at the bar said it was unwarranted. That Eli Miller simply exploded. And that’s what has me worried.”
“You think he could have exploded on Walter?” she asked.
“Why not? That man swindled his family of money. Money they rightfully earned. And from what I heard around town today, Eli made some mighty powerful threats against Walter just before the man skipped town. That’s not allowed by the Amish, either. So why would murder be any different for him?” Jakob extended his foot to stop the gentle sway of the swing and stood, his troubled gaze looking out over the distant fields of his childhood. “The only real thread of hope I have is that Millers are smart people. Eli
had to know that if he killed Walter, the chance of ever getting the family’s money back would be slim to none.”
“That’s good.”
Jakob turned around, perching on the top of the porch rail. “It certainly bodes better for him than a fit of jealousy or a bent toward revenge would.”
“Jealousy?” she echoed.
“Less chance of thinking something like that through before acting.”
Jealousy …
Instinctively her hand moved to her skirt pocket as a new scenario attached itself to the note inside. A scenario that chilled her from the inside out.
“Claire? You okay?”
She looked up and saw the concern in the detective’s eyes. But try as she might, she couldn’t tell him about the note. Not yet, anyway. Not until after she’d spoken to Esther.
“I … I’m fine. I guess I’m just worried about my friends. The Amish are such peaceful people. I hate to see the stress of the outside world invading that.” And she did. Truly. It just wasn’t the whole truth …
Jakob crossed back to the swing and reclaimed his spot as Claire brought the suspended bench to a stop. “My niece is lucky to have a friend like you.”
She blinked against an unexpected burning in her eyes. “I’m lucky to have her.”
Silence fell over them as they looked out over the setting sun and the glorious shades of red and orange that spread over Heavenly like gentle fingers.
It was Jakob who finally broke the quiet. “Do you ever see her mother?”
She had to smile. “Martha? She’s lovely. I just met her
the other day. She’s going to be making things for my shop now, too.”
Jakob stiffened beside her. “How … How is she?”
The sadness intermingled with the faintest hint of hope she heard in his voice reminded her of the why behind his question, prompting her to lay a gentle hand atop his. “She seemed good to me. Very protective of her daughter yet not in a stifling way.”
He seemed to consider her words even as he flipped his hand over and held on to hers.
She stared at their hands intertwined, his voice filling the space between them. “I miss many people from my Amish life. But none as much as I miss my sister.”
It was hard to know what to say. In five years of being married to Peter, he’d never shared his feelings as openly as Jakob was at that moment. It was everything she’d always wanted yet nothing she knew how to handle.
She withdrew her hand from his and extended her own foot. When the swing stopped, she stood and crossed to the same porch railing where Jakob had perched just moments earlier. Only instead of sitting, she merely shielded her eyes from the sun’s remaining rays. If she leaned slightly to the left and looked to her right, she could make out the beginning of Lighted Way and the road that linked the English and Amish worlds. They were different no doubt. Different in everything from transportation and clothes to customs and beliefs. But, in the end, they were all people. People with hopes and dreams and memories held dear.
And if Jakob was missing Martha, she had to believe there was a part of Martha that missed Jakob as well.
She said as much to the detective.
“I wish I could know you’re right, Claire. Not because I
want my sister to hurt but because I’d know I wasn’t alone. But the Amish are steadfast in their beliefs first and foremost. And I broke those.”
Slowly, she turned around, her mind processing everything Jakob said against what she had learned so far about her friends. Sure, she didn’t know Martha well—the bulk of Claire’s information was based only on stories Esther shared during quiet moments at the shop. But what she did know cast a shred of doubt on the man’s words.
“I’d like to help if I can,” she whispered.
“If today was any indication of the walls I’m going to hit with this investigation, I might have to take you up on that.” Jakob rose from the swing and came to stand beside Claire.
“I wasn’t talking about that.”
His shoulders dropped ever so slightly. “You weren’t?”
She rushed to explain. “I mean, sure, I’ll do my best to be a liaison of sorts with the Amish if that’s what you need while you get to the bottom of what happened to Walter Snow. But I was talking about something more than that.”
He studied her face closely, the warmth of his eyes sending yet another unexpected tingle through her body. “Oh?”
“I’d like to help you get close to your sister again.”
She’d have to have been blind not to see the way her words impacted the detective, to see the flash of hope that flickered behind his eyes before disappearing altogether.
“I appreciate that, Claire, but it will never happen.”
“Never,” she repeated. “That’s a word I used a time or two when things seemed bleak. But Aunt Diane showed me how that word lies again and again. Now I guess it’s my turn to show you the same thing.”
T
he moment the tires of Aunt Diane’s car left the tourist-friendly section of Lighted Way, Claire felt the change. The pace slowed, storefronts gave way to wide open fields, and occasional buggy sightings became the norm.
Slowly, she inched the borrowed car around one curve and then the next, her focus alternating between the road and the farms as she soaked in her surroundings. She’d been so busy acclimating herself to the shop and helping at the inn that the closest she’d gotten to the Amish side of Heavenly had been via her day-to-day contact with people like Esther and Ruth. But now, as she left the slightly whitewashed version of Amish life and headed smack-dab into the middle of their reality, she couldn’t help but feel her excitement brewing.
Sweeping farmland as far as her eye could see was parceled into fields of varying colors. From Esther, she’d learned that typical crops for the Fisher family and their
Amish brethren were things like hay and wheat, barley and rye, corn and soybeans. Vegetables grown often ended up as wares in an every-once-in-a-while roadside stand that served as yet another way to feed their large families.