Читать книгу Plain Threats - Alison Stone - Страница 11

THREE

The next afternoon at the diner, Rebecca grabbed the whipped cream can she could see through the glass door of the refrigerator and yanked off the cap. Lost in thought she squeezed the trigger on the dispenser and watched the white cream ooze out into a hearty dollop on two pieces of apple pie.

Drawing in a deep breath, she picked up the plates and turned her back to push through the swinging door leading to the dining room. The door swung back with a swoosh on its hinge, and she delivered the two pieces of pie to the elderly couple in the booth by the window.

“Can I get you anything else?” Rebecca asked.

“No, dear,” the older woman said, “thank you.” The couple came in at least once a week and Rebecca couldn’t help but envy the easy way they chatted and held hands over dessert.

As Rebecca retreated to the counter, the elderly gentleman muttered something about how delicious the pie was.

Flo, the waitress on duty with her, pulled the filter basket out of the coffeemaker and turned it upside down over the garbage. With a gentle tap on the edge of the can, the wet coffee filter and used grounds slid into the garbage.

Flo was in her sixties and she was a fixture at the diner as much as shoofly pie and apple butter. People might have thought she was Amish because she wore her long gray hair in a bun at the nape of her neck and her plain gray waitress uniform might have passed for Amish to the average tourist.

But Flo was not Amish. She had English sensibilities and had raised three boys, now grown. She freely shared advice with Rebecca whether she wanted it or not.

Flo spun around, planted her fist on her hip and smiled. “Still worried about Samuel?”

“I...um...” Rebecca muttered, embarrassed that she had been caught daydreaming and not getting her work done. She grabbed the dishtowel from the back counter and wiped down the already clear countertop. There was usually enough going on in the small diner to keep both waitresses hopping, but now just so happened to be the short lull between lunch and dinner.

“Well, I didn’t figure you were staring at me because you forgot how the coffeemaker worked,” Flo said with a funny smile. “What’s on your mind?”

Rebecca twisted the rag in her hands. “I went to see Professor Burke last night.” Rebecca didn’t have many Amish friends of late and she appreciated the friendship of the older woman. Rebecca missed her Amish friends, her family. Her parents had long since moved to an Amish community in Florida for health reasons and her friends had disappeared as Rebecca’s troubles multiplied.

Flo raised a pale eyebrow and regarded Rebecca for a long moment. She was a solid Christian woman, but she had a wicked sense of humor that could make Rebecca blush. That knowledge, coupled with the glint in her eye, had Rebecca bracing herself for the older woman’s reply.

“Professor Burke is a very handsome man.” Flo twisted her lips as if considering something. “Too bad he’s not Amish or you’re not English. You’d make a striking couple.”

Rebecca smoothed a hand across the edge of her bonnet, feeling her cheeks heat. None of her Amish friends spoke this boldly. “It has nothing to do with that. I wanted to talk to him about—”

“You know who he reminds me of?” Flo grabbed a fresh filter and used the orange scoop to put fresh coffee grounds in the coffeemaker.

Leaning her hip against the counter, Rebecca didn’t bother to answer because she knew Flo would get to it in her own sweet time. Before meeting Flo, she had never been around a woman who said whatever was on her mind. The Amish women Rebecca had grown up with were far more reserved.

The older woman snapped the coffee basket back into place and turned to face Rebecca. “You know who I’m talking about, right? Professor Burke reminds me of that really handsome FBI agent who works with that Bones lady.”

Confusion creased Rebecca’s brow. “Excuse me?”

Flo’s face lit up and she laughed, waving her long fingers in front of her. “Sometimes I forget you don’t watch TV.” She shook her head. Flo grew serious and stopped doing busy work, giving Rebecca her full attention. “I’m sorry. Tell me why you went to see Professor Burke.”

Rebecca glanced toward the dining area to make sure no new customers had come in. She didn’t want anyone to overhear. The only patrons were the elderly couple by the window, and they seemed content to chat over their pie and coffee.

“Samuel and some of the other Amish youth meet with Professor Burke for research purposes. I wanted to see if he could help me understand why Samuel has been withdrawn lately.”

“How so? Did he tell you something about Samuel that you didn’t want to hear?”

“No, but when he drove me home—”

“He drove you home?”

“He was being nice.” Rebecca decided to leave the part about being attacked on campus out of the story. “Someone was in my house when I got home.”

“Oh, dear.” Flo leaned forward and cupped Rebecca’s elbow. “Who was it? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Rebecca shook her head. “I don’t know who it was. The intruder ran out the back door. Professor Burke called the sheriff.”

“The sheriff will track him down, I’m sure of it.” Flo tried to buoy Rebecca’s mood with her optimism.

“The only problem is that the Amish try to limit their interaction with law enforcement.”

Flo squeezed Rebecca’s elbow and gave her a reassuring smile. “Sometimes calling the sheriff can’t be avoided. You know that.”

A guilty heat burned Rebecca’s stomach. Would everyone always remind her of her horrible past?

“I’m trying to help Samuel—not get him into more trouble.”

The lines around Flo’s eyes deepened in confusion. “I don’t understand why calling the sheriff would affect Samuel.”

Rebecca bowed her head. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with all my troubles.”

“You need to share or—” Flo lifted her hands to both sides of her head, then flared her fingers “—or your head will explode.”

“Well, the professor wasn’t able to give me any new information about Samuel’s bad mood. When the sheriff arrived last night, Samuel was rude to him. I don’t need my son to be on the sheriff’s bad side.”

Flo’s expression softened. “I’m sorry you’re having troubles, but maybe it’s time you stop smothering that boy.” She laughed, a sharp sound. “A boy. Listen to me. He’s a man. He could vote if he was so inclined. Stop trying to make him fit into a certain mold.” She lifted her finger and tapped the side of her head. “He’s got his own ideas.”

Rebecca blinked slowly, realizing her English friend wouldn’t understand.

As if reading her mind, Flo said, “I’m a mother, too. I raised three boys. My husband was convinced that one of them would become an engineer like him.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “One became an accountant, another a policeman, and the last—much to my husband’s distress—took up creative writing. Poor kid can’t afford to pay attention, but my husband, God rest his soul, finally had to realize each of his sons had their own path in this life.”

An ache Rebecca couldn’t define filled her.

“The Amish are not like the English. We don’t seek personal fulfillment. We are community-centered. God-centered.”

“Is your son happy?”

Rebecca flinched. “That is not—” She stopped herself, realizing her friendship with Flo was more important than slamming her over the head with how the Amish culture is different from the outside world.

“I realize the Amish march to a different beat, but Samuel is his own person. If he’s not happy, something has to change.”

Rebecca didn’t do well with change.

The bells on the diner door jangled, startling her. Rebecca’s friend and the sheriff’s wife, Hannah, strolled through the door with her young niece Sarah.

Flo leaned in close and whispered, “Hannah Maxwell seems happy since she left the Amish.”

Rebecca walked away without comment because she couldn’t find the words.

Hannah lifted her hand and waved. She placed her hand on her niece’s bun. “Sarah had ballet class in town and we thought we’d stop by and say hello. How are you?”

Rebecca smiled, feeling a little less lonely. Hannah had stopped by because she was married to the sheriff and she knew Rebecca was struggling right now.

“I’m doing fine.” Rebecca smiled at Sarah, admiring her hair, thinking that not that long ago the little girl had been wearing a bonnet and long dress, not a leotard and a pink bow. This was before Hannah had come back to town to care for her deceased sister’s children and had fallen in love with the sheriff.

“We’re going to start practicing for the Nutcracker,” the little girl said. “I’m hoping to be one of the sugarplum fairies.”

“Christmas is still months away.” Rebecca met Hannah’s gaze.

“They start practicing early.” Hannah unzipped the front of her niece’s jacket. “Maybe you can color for a few minutes while I talk to my friend Rebecca.”

Sarah slid into a nearby booth and Rebecca gave her a child’s paper place mat and three crayons. “Hope you like red, blue and green.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, picking up the red crayon and following the maze path on the place mat.

Hannah moved toward the counter and Rebecca followed. “Spencer told me he saw you yesterday.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened. Embarrassment heated her cheeks.

Hannah waved her hand in dismissal. “My husband doesn’t bring his work home. He’s a good sheriff. He keeps his business confidential, but I sensed that you might need a friend to lean on.” She tilted her head to look into Rebecca’s eyes. “You okay?”

Rebecca sat on the edge of a stool and crossed her arms. “Don’t you sometimes wish we could go back to when we were all little girls? You, me, your sister. Collecting things for our hope chests.”

Hannah’s eyes grew red-rimmed and she gave Rebecca’s arm a squeeze. “I miss my sister every day.” She sniffed. “Nothing turned out like we had planned.” Hannah’s lips curved into a thin smile. “But that doesn’t mean some things can’t turn out okay.” She glanced in the direction of her niece. “I love my sister’s daughters like my own and Spencer is a good man. I found light at the end of a very dark tunnel.”

Rebecca feared the light at the end of her tunnel was a flickering pinprick in danger of being extinguished.

Rebecca squared her shoulders and pushed off the stool. “I’m going through a rough patch, but we’ll be fine.”

“I’m here if you need me. Please don’t be a stranger.”

“Denki.” The Amish word for thank you came easily when chatting with her old friend.

“Well, we need to pick up Emma from her friend’s house and get home.” She reached out and patted Rebecca’s hand.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Hannah said to her niece. Sarah scooted out of the booth clutching the place mat.

Rebecca watched Hannah and Sarah walk hand in hand toward the exit. Hannah glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t hesitate to call.” She jerked her head toward the phone mounted on the wall, indicating Rebecca could call her from the diner if she needed her. “You don’t have to go through any of this alone.”

Rebecca nodded. Hannah seemed happy outside the Amish, so why did the thought of her son leaving the Amish fill her with unbearable sadness?

Because leaving meant walking away from everything Rebecca firmly believed. It wasn’t about happiness in the moment; it was about faith and God and heaven.

What would happen if Samuel left?

Rebecca ran a hand over her forehead. The beginning of a headache was pulsing behind her eyes.

“Excuse me.” The elderly lady seated at the window booth snapped Rebecca out of her reverie. “Could we have more coffee, please?”

Rebecca tugged at the edge of her apron, embarrassed that she had been inattentive. “Of course.” She spun on her heel and strode toward the coffeemaker.

Flo came out of the back and gave her a sympathetic smile. “You’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders, honey. You need to let go and let God.”

Rebecca smiled in spite of herself. Flo’s outward expressions of faith were contrary to her Amish upbringing, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same.

She had to have faith.

A tiny bit of the weight lifted from her shoulders. She grabbed the coffee and strolled over to her only customers.

* * *

A few nights later, Jake pulled his pickup truck—a vehicle that had seen better days—over to the edge of the road in front of the Troyers’ farm. The sun had already set and the final remnants of light were making their last stand. An unpainted split rail fence separated the property from the country road. Beyond the house, barn and a few small structures, corn grew for miles.

Jake pushed open his truck’s door and climbed out. He flipped up his collar, hunched into his coat and shuddered. He’d grown up in this part of the country, but he’d never get used to how quickly summer’s heat turned to fall’s cool evenings.

Jake had stopped by the diner this afternoon. He had been disappointed that he hadn’t run into Rebecca, but he had gleaned some useful information. He’d overheard the Troyers had hosted church service this morning, which meant they were hosting the youth singing now. Jake hoped he had timed it correctly to catch some of the youngie as they were arriving. He wanted to talk to Samuel, in part to clear up any misunderstanding as to why he was at his home the other night. He didn’t want to jeopardize his relationship with the Amish youth. Outwardly, it would hurt his research and his position at the university, but more important, he wanted to be in a position to help Samuel if he had gotten caught up in something. If Samuel pushed him away, he wouldn’t be able to help.

Jake’s failure to help Elmer would haunt him forever.

Jake wanted to see firsthand why Rebecca was worried about Samuel. To date, the young men he had talked to had not given him cause for major concern apart from the normal shenanigans of an Amish male prior to baptism. But the sheriff’s concerns about drugs in the Amish community made him wary.

And Rebecca’s plea for help wouldn’t allow him to let this go.

The tiny stones on the driveway crunched under his brown loafers. Singing flowed out from the barn. The event must have started earlier than he had thought. As he got closer, he noticed a few Amish boys leaning against a buggy, the red glow of cigarettes lighting up with each puff like fireflies setting the night aglow.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Jake approached them, scanning their faces. No Samuel.

“Ah, it’s the professor. So nice to see you,” one of them said. Even with the Pennsylvania Dutch accent, Jake recognized the universal language of sarcasm.

Jake knew the youth. Eli Troyer. Apparently being the host family for the singing didn’t mean he felt obligated to sit through song after song from the Ausbund.

“Sorry to crash your party,” Jake said, trying to sound nonthreatening.

Eli tossed his cigarette on the gravel and snuffed it out with the tip of his boot. Uri and Jonas Yoder, Rebecca’s farmhands, watched silently, puffing on their cigarettes. Jake wondered how Eli’s father felt about finding all the cigarette butts around the barn after the Amish youth descended upon his home.

“What’s up, Professor? You looking to take notes? Count how many cigarettes I’ve had? Rat me out to my mem?” Eli gave him a pointed glare, narrowing his lips and emitting a steady stream of smoke.

Jake ignored the comment. “I’m looking for Samuel.”

Eli adjusted his hat farther back on his head, the soft light from the barn lit on the amusement in his eyes. “Didn’t you get enough information from his mem?”

One of the Yoder brothers laughed, a monotone sound that lacked amusement.

“I told you my research was private. That I protect your identities unless you give me permission to use your names.”

Eli tapped out another cigarette and put it between his lips without lighting it. The crunching sound of footsteps on gravel grew closer. Samuel strolled around the corner. His eyes widened a fraction at seeing Jake, but he quickly composed himself, shoved his hands under his armpits and exuded an air of aloofness. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m done talking.”

“Because I talked to your mother?”

Samuel pushed the gravel around with the toe of his boot. “Exactly. You didn’t keep your end of the bargain. I talked to you for research for some stupid paper you had to write on the wild Amish youth.” In the heavy shadows, Jake couldn’t see it, but he sensed an eye roll accompanying the word stupid.

“My research is important.” But not as important as the welfare of this young man.

“Not to me.”

Uri, Jonas and Eli laughed at their friend’s witty comeback. It was as Jake feared. However, securing his research subjects was only part of the reason he had driven out here tonight. The other was concern for Rebecca’s safety. Someone obviously had something against her and wasn’t ready to let it go. He had heard rumblings throughout the Amish community that not everyone believed Rebecca was blameless. He had heard one young man repeat the ramblings of his father. “It wonders me how a wife couldn’t know what her husband was up to. She’s just as guilty, I tell you.”

Then there was the issue of drugs in Apple Creek and Rebecca’s concerns that perhaps Samuel had gotten himself involved.

How had he paid for all the electronics in his room?

Like a research puzzle, Jake wanted to snap all the pieces into place in hopes of discovering what was going on here before any more lives were ruined.

“Can you give me a few minutes, Samuel?” Jake tipped his head toward his truck parked on the side of the road. “I can give you a ride home. It’ll be a lot warmer than riding in a friend’s buggy. Unless, of course, you brought your own buggy.” Jake glanced around but couldn’t determine how Samuel had gotten here.

Samuel glanced down, studying the gravel. “I’m going to the singing.”

“We both know you have no plans to join the group.”

“The professor got one thing right.” Uri playfully punched Samuel in the arm. “But my friend here ain’t going with an Englisher.”

Jake caught Samuel’s eye; a mix of defiance and fear flashed in their depths.

Jake pulled the zipper on his jacket up to his neck, blocking the brisk fall breeze. “Can I ask you guys something?”

Eli leaned back on the buggy and rested the heel of his boot on the wheel. The other three youth looked at him with apparent disinterest.

“The sheriff told me there are a lot of drugs flowing through Apple Creek.”

Eli grunted and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You guys know anything about that? Heard about anyone dealing?” Jake jerked his chin toward the crops. “Heard of anyone growing marijuana?”

Uri laughed. “Yeah, we’ll be selling marijuana at the roadside stand next to corn and pumpkins.”

Jake turned to Samuel. “How about you?”

Samuel kept his expression neutral. “The only drug stories I hear are the ones that make the papers.” Like Elmer’s tragic accident. “Sorry...” He shrugged. “Can’t help you.”

They stood staring at one another, silent save for the youth singing in four-part harmony in the barn.

Eli pushed off the wagon wheel. “Let’s get out of here. This singing is a drag tonight.” Eli gestured to what Jake thought was the buggy with an overabundance of reflector decals, but actually, he was looking past the Amish form of transportation to a ten-year-old beater car Jake hadn’t noticed before. “Let’s leave before my mem brings out snacks. Then we’ll be forced to join the group.”

“Samuel?” Jake asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

“I gotta go, man.” Samuel turned his back to Jake and followed his friends. The four of them got into the car, Uri behind the wheel. The engine roared to life and the worn tires spit out gravel before the treads finally gained purchase and the car tore out of the yard.

A couple horses lifted their heads and snorted in protest. Jake watched the red taillights disappear into the dark night.

Jake wondered if his father had been this rebellious before he convinced Jake’s mother to pack it up and leave everything that she’d ever known for a life on the outside.