A Time To Heal (12 page)

“Good,” he said. “I like her.”

“Me or the pie I'm bringing?” Phoebe asked.

Chris turned. “You, of course. But I'll be happy to carry in that pie for you.”

“
Ya,
because it's sooo heavy,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. She held out the pie. “I'm not sure which people like better, me or my pies.”

“It's a tough choice when it's your apple cranberry,” he told her seriously and then he grinned to show her he was teasing.

Matthew and Jenny came in midway through supper.They said Eli was doing well and would be home the next day. No one talked at the table. Matthew and Jenny appeared exhausted.

Afterward, Chris walked out to the barn with Matthew and they studied the scene, discussing how the fire might have started. Storing hay had always been dangerous—both of them had heard of the volatility of the dust it created.

They agreed there could be many things that might ignite, such as chemicals or the gasoline used for various equipment.

“Don't know when I can start repairs,” Matthew said. “We still have to get in the rest of the crops.”

Chris shook his head as he assessed the damage. “You think it can be repaired? It won't have to be pulled down?”

“I'll know more after the investigator comes.”

“A farmer's life isn't an easy life.”

“
Ya,”
Matthew said simply. “But it's the life I love, with God walking alongside me helping things grow.”

He bent to pick up a big flake of ash and study it.

“If God is walking alongside you, why did He let this happen?”

“I don't always understand why things happen,” Matthew said after a long moment. “God's will is a mysterious thing sometimes. But I don't have to understand. It's enough for me to know that whether He reveals why He's done something or not, He is all-knowing.”

Chris thought about that. How could anyone be so accepting of something bad like this happening? He'd been struggling with doing what he thought was right when he saw something bad happening, only to then have the men he saw as brothers in the military turn on him because of it.

He suddenly realized Matthew was saying something.“Sorry, I was thinking about something that happened sometime back. It's hard to accept it as God's will, to believe that it was somehow part of His plan for me. It just feels like it's caused me nothing but problems.”

But as much as he wanted to talk to Matthew about his inner conflict, he felt the old reserve creep back. It wasn't good to share too much when you didn't know someone well, no matter how good a person he considered Matthew to be.And how much could the other man understand when he wasn't from the world Chris had experienced—not just
Englisch,
but military?

Besides, dusk was falling and they'd both had a long day.

“You okay?”

“Sure. Why do you ask?”

Matthew shook his head. “I thought you were about to say something. Guess I'll get the horses in.”

“Done. Joshua and I took care of it—fed and watered them too.”

“Well,
danki.
I appreciate it.” He held out his hand. “And
danki
for grabbing Eli and saving him from hurting himself worse today. You have fast reflexes.”

“You learn 'em on the battlefield,” Chris said, shaking Matthew's hand.

Matthew started toward the house, to his wife and family, and Chris toward the
dawdi haus.

Chris hesitated and turned back to look at Matthew.

Matthew stopped. “Did you say something?”

Shaking his head, Chris opened the back door and went inside. It was just that the day had been strange—an emotional roller coaster, he thought as he got a glass of water. He felt out of sorts.

No, if he was honest with himself, he suddenly felt lonely. He drained the glass and went into the bedroom to go to sleep.

But once again he lay awake for a long time.

An investigator came the next morning and looked around the barn.

Hannah watched him as she hung out the laundry she'd helped Jenny re-wash because it smelled of the smoke from the fire.

Every so often, she glanced over to the fields where Matthew, Chris, and the other men worked. And often, she found Chris watching her.

Buggies and cars slowed and sometimes stopped as people gawked at the damage the fire had done to the barn.

“Wonder what he's finding,” Jenny said as the man came out of the barn.

“What's that in his hands?”

“Evidence bags.”

“Evidence? What kind?”

“I don't know. But if he wasn't finding something that made him suspicious, he wouldn't be bringing bags out.”

Chills ran up and down Hannah's arms. “Jenny, you're not saying that someone would start a fire in the barn?”

Jenny bit her lip as she watched the investigator. “No, that can't be. He's just being careful. Why would anyone start a fire in our barn? No one's mad at us.”

Then she frowned.

“What?”

“No, it's too ridiculous to think—”

“
What?”
Exasperated, Hannah stood with her hands on her hips, wanting to shake her sister-in-law.

“You don't suppose Josiah—”

“Josiah what?”

“I know he wasn't happy when I first moved back. He went to the bishop and the elders of the church, saying he was afraid of my influence on the community.”

“But he got over it.”

“Well, maybe. Maybe not. You said he looked really unhappy that Chris came rushing at him, thinking he was forcing you into his buggy. And you told me the bishop came the other day and said Josiah talked to him about Chris and how he had that flashback.”

“Then wouldn't he be mad at Chris, not at you and Matthew?”

Jenny picked up a clothespin that had fallen in the grass.“I don't know. I'm probably just being paranoid thinking such a thing.”

Realizing that her hands were suddenly clammy, Hannah rubbed them up and down her apron. “But you know how to figure out things like this—from your TV reporter days— when you lived in the
Englisch
world.”

“I wasn't an investigative reporter, Hannah. I was a feature reporter, covering stories about how children were being affected by war.”

“No, you know how people think—people who do bad things.”

Jenny blinked. “Are you saying I have some insight into the criminal mind?”

“A lot more than me. Bad things don't happen here. Oh, Isaiah Lapp got a ticket for driving his courting buggy recklessly last month and Abe Miller had to apologize for trying to climb into Fannie Mae Yoder's window as a joke. But we hardly ever have any crime here.

“Barns have burned here in the community before. There could have been a spark that started it. Maybe one of the men was smoking a pipe out there and didn't want to admit it because Matthew would have a fit.”

“But we heard an explosion.”

“Could have been chemicals stored in the barn or gas for the engine—” she stopped when Jenny just gave her a disbelieving stare.

“Denial's not a river in Egypt,” Jenny said.

“What?”

“Never mind. It's just a silly
Englisch
expression.”

“Just when I think you've completely adapted to being Plain, you say something that makes you sound
Englisch.”

“Well, I guess it's because so far, I've spent more time being
Englisch
than Plain. Forget I said anything about Josiah. He's just an old man set in his ways, afraid that outsiders will ruin the community. I'm sure he's harmless.”

She put her arm around Hannah's waist and they started toward the house. “Let's go inside and have some tea and talk about your job.”

“It's just twenty hours a week. Not a real job. At least it doesn't feel like a job. It's fun teaching other women how to quilt.”

“And admit it, you've been curious about the
Englisch
for a long time. Teaching them how to quilt should give you a chance to know more of them.”

Hannah laughed. “
Ya.”

They entered the kitchen, and Jenny filled the tea kettle and set it on the stove while Hannah dug some cookies out of the cookie jar and placed them on a plate. When the tea was ready, they sat down at the table to rest a few minutes.

“We sew a lot of quilts here for function, you know, because we need them to cover our beds so we can stay warm,” Hannah told Jenny. “And it's a pleasure to make them because we love the person who will be warmed by something we made with our hands.”

She stirred her tea and took a sip. “It's fun, too, to make something creative, using patterns and material pieces and colors. Some of the
Englisch
women come to learn how to quilt because they want to do the same thing, to make a quilt for a loved one. It's not a necessity for them like it is here. They can buy blankets. However, I like watching them get the same joy from experimenting with quilt making that we do.”

“Because we're more alike than we're different, don't you think?”

“
Ya,
I suppose so. Except—”

“Except …” Jenny found her looking toward the kitchen window.

Her eyes followed Hannah's. “I guess I don't need to look out the window to see who you're talking about, do I?”

“He's different from the men I know.”

“I remember that first night he came here you said he was attractive and I teased you,” Jenny mused.

Hannah blushed. “You're not starting on that again, are you?”

“No, I just wonder if you're interested in him because he's someone different. Maybe you should visit another Plain community—” She stopped when Hannah held up her hand.

“I wish it were that easy.” She sighed. “Phoebe and I have talked about it.”

“You're sure it's not that you feel … sorry for him? Because of what he's been through?”

Hannah smiled and shook her head. “But I don't know how he feels about me. Sometimes I feel like he's looking at me … like there's something there, and then I wonder if I'm just imagining it. It's not like he's flirting …”

It was Jenny's turn to shake her head. “Chris doesn't strike me as the kind of man who plays with a woman's feelings.”

“I'll get the door,” Hannah said when someone knocked.“You relax.”

The fire investigator stood on the front porch. His expression was grim. “Is Matthew Bontrager available?”

Chris watched Jenny wave to get Matthew's attention as he stood on the edge of the field. Matthew acknowledged her wave and began walking toward her.

One of the first things a soldier learned was to study body language. If he didn't understand how to read a person's mood, his intent, it could cost him his life. A battlefield wasn't always marked; an enemy didn't always wear a uniform. Sometimes a person—even a child—could suddenly pull out a weapon, trigger a riot, or become a human bomb.

So he studied the way Jenny stood stiffly, wrapped her arms over her chest as if she were shivering—even though the day was still warm—and wore a worried frown as she talked to Matthew.

Matthew stood with his back to him so he wasn't able to see his expression, but he saw Matthew straighten and he put his hands on his hips as he listened to his wife. Then he touched her shoulder in a reassuring way and they began walking back to the farmhouse.

The fire investigator's truck was still parked in the drive.Had Jenny come to get Matthew because the investigator wanted to talk to him about the barn? If so, that couldn't be good.

Chris glanced out at the road and saw a buggy parked to one side. From where he stood, Chris couldn't see its occupant.He felt that odd sensation of being watched again. It had happened a number of times that day because so many buggies and cars had slowly gone by.

He shook his head, telling himself he didn't have time to let it concern him. There was too much to be done. He turned back to his work.

M
atthew walked into the kitchen where Hannah sat with Jenny at the kitchen table, mending some of the
kinner's
clothes.

“What did the fire investigator have to say?” Jenny asked him.

Matthew's glance slid to Hannah, then he looked at Jenny and shrugged. “Not much. He poked around the barn and said he'd get back to me when he knew something.”

“That sounds like he thinks it wasn't an accident,” Jenny said, putting down the mending. “Otherwise, he'd just say he didn't see anything out of the ordinary.”

When her brother glanced her way again, Hannah stood. “I think I'll go see if Phoebe needs anything in town.”

“You don't have to leave.”

Hannah looked at Matthew. “I think you need to talk to Jenny privately.”

“Why would he need to do that?” Jenny made a knot and clipped the thread. “We're not talking about anything personal.”

“He just said that he'd prefer it if I didn't say anything about the investigation,” Matthew said.

“Hannah is your sister, not an outsider.”

Matthew nodded. “I know.” He sighed. “You know how it is when something happens. People talk. Rumors get started.I think the investigator is just saying the less anything is said about it, the better, regardless of whether the fire was an accident or something more.”

He got a glass, filled it with water, and drank it down. “I need to get back outside. We'll talk later.”

Hannah picked up her mending when he left. After a few minutes, she put it down again. “Do you want some more tea?”

“No, but have some if you like.”

She fixed the tea, brought it to the table, and let it cool while she tried to concentrate on fixing a rip in one of Annie's dresses. The child was harder on her clothing than anyone Hannah knew.

Getting up, Hannah checked on a casserole she'd brought over for dinner. Jenny had been grateful for it, although Hannah didn't think it took any special effort on her part to make a second when she was already making one for herself and Phoebe.

She found herself wandering to the kitchen window, looking to see what the men were doing out in the fields.
Allrecht,
maybe she looked to see what one particular man was doing.

When she turned to walk back to the table, she saw that Jenny watched her, a faint smile on her lips.

“Feeling restless?”

“No, of course not.” Hannah took her seat again. Then, after a long moment, she gave up. “Would you mind if I took this home to finish later?”

Jenny looked up. “Of course not. Why would I mind? It was nice enough of you to offer to help to begin with.”

“I think I'll ask Phoebe if she'd like to go into town.”

“I thought you looked restless,” Jenny said sympathetically.

“A bit.”

“I know the feeling.”

“You're feeling restless too? Would you like to go?”

Jenny laughed and shook her head. “No, I meant I know the feeling but I'm not feeling it now. I'm actually quite content to sit here and do something domestic. But then again, I was just out of town days ago. It feels good to be here now.” She put the sock she'd been mending down. “We've all been so busy and then there's been this … tension since the fire.”

Hannah sighed. “You've felt it too?”

“How could I not? Every time I look at the barn I get this uncomfortable feeling. I think it's bothering Matthew as well.He hasn't been sleeping well. It's a shame. Harvest time is always exhausting enough.”

Hannah tucked her needle and thread into her sewing basket, stood up, and reached down to give Jenny a hug. “Anything you need from town?”

“I'm fine.” Then she looked at the socks in the basket. “But next week, let's you and I consider a trip to get some new socks for the kids. It just seems to me that mending isn't worth the time as cheap as socks are. I know that's probably sacrilegious to say here because nothing's to be wasted but …”

Hannah laughed. “I understand how you hate it.”

When Hannah returned home, she found Phoebe had a visitor who'd just arrived. With just a little sigh of disappointment, she went on out to hitch up Daisy to the buggy.

Within a block or so of the house, the vague restlessness faded. She didn't often feel such a thing; she loved being at home, doing things in and around it.

A man walked on the right-hand side of the road. Although all she could see was the back of him, he looked familiar. When she pulled alongside, she saw that it was Chris.

“Going somewhere?” she asked and then found herself holding her breath. Why did she hope he wasn't going to say that he was leaving?

“Matthew told me to take a couple of hours off.”

“Really?”

“Really. Thought I'd take a walk into town, go to the library.”

He kept walking and Daisy plodded along next to him.

“Would you like a ride?”

When he didn't answer for some time, Hannah wondered if he'd heard her. Then he turned and looked at her. “You're not afraid of me?”

“You know I'm not.”

“I don't know anything,” he muttered. “Josiah just went past. I got the distinct impression he wishes I'd just keep traveling on down the road.”

“I'm sure. He's not the friendliest man. Come on, get in, I'll give you a ride.” She stopped the buggy, watched him hesitate and then climb inside.

“Where are you headed?” he asked her.

“I'm getting some supplies at the quilt store. I wouldn't mind looking in the library too. My nieces and nephew always love it when I get books for them. Annie loves a good book, especially when I read it to her.”

“Okay. You decide which one to visit first.” He leaned back against the seat and watched the passing scenery.

“You'd go into the quilt shop with me?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” Then he looked at her. “Oh, so the men here can't do that sort of thing?”

“It's not that they can't, but they're not really interested in what they view as a woman thing.”

“I don't mind going in with you. My grandmother took me a few times when she ran errands.”

Hannah found herself laughing. “Bet you were a little boy then.”

He grinned, his teeth bright white against skin turning tan from being out in the fields. “Yeah, but I'm not afraid to be in a woman's enclave. I was in the military.”

When she looked blank, he held up his arm and flexed the muscle. “I'm a manly man. I can take it. That's
Englisch
guy humor,” he explained when she stared at him.

“I see,” she said dryly. Then she smiled to show him that she “got” it, as the
Englisch
said.

They fell silent as they traveled.

“What do you like to read?”

“A little of everything,” he said noncommittally. “I want to poke around. But ladies first. Let's go to the quilt store, then the library.”

“Okay. I hope you won't be sorry.”

“Looks like a little store. How long can it take?”

Famous last words, thought Chris.

Stitches in Time turned out to be a tiny store with spaces in front for just four cars or buggies to park. But the minute Chris opened the door for Hannah, he realized that the room inside stretched for far more than the usual length of a store.

It was interesting to watch Hannah as she walked through the shop. Her fingers touched a fabric here, another there, and she got a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were already planning out a design for a quilt.

The clerk, dressed in Plain clothing, stood at the counter cutting fabric. She glanced up and greeted Hannah. “Hi, didn't expect to see you today. You don't have a lesson until Thursday, do you?”

“No, I decided not to wait until then to get some fabric to start a new quilt.”

“Can I help you with something?” the clerk asked Chris.

“He's with me. Chris, this is Naomi, one of the owners of the store. Naomi, this is Chris, a friend of Jenny's.”

She turned to Chris. “Naomi, Anna, and Mary Katherine are sisters. They and their
grossmudder
own the shop.”

“Hi, Chris. So, are you interested in quilting too?” she asked, tucking her tongue in her cheek.

He grinned at her. “Nope. Thought I'd try knitting.”

“Knitting? Did someone say knitting?” Another young woman, who looked a lot like Naomi and dressed like her, approached.

Hannah laughed. “Chris, meet Anna. She can help you with any knitting supplies.”

Another young woman joined them, looking similar to the other two and dressed the same. “Hi, I'm Mary Katherine.Maybe you'd like to look at our weaving section?”

“Now, now, don't tease the poor man,” an older woman said as she walked up. She turned to Chris. “I'm sure he's here to learn how to make the little Amish dolls I'm known for.”

Chris backed up. “I think I'll just wait in the buggy for you, Hannah.”

Feminine laughter followed him and he slunk off to the buggy. Geez, he'd faced down men with guns, but surrounded by a bunch of Amish women teasing him about making crafts he'd turned tail.

Outside, he became the subject of curious stares from passing tourists who obviously wondered why he was dressed in
Englisch
clothes but sitting in an Amish buggy.

Yes, it is an interesting time, this trip to Paradise, he thought.

The minutes ticked by and he became aware that he was being watched, the itch between his shoulders was back. He glanced around but didn't see anything out of the ordinary.Tourists walked around dressed in logo T-shirts, food in hand, looking in shop windows and carrying bags of things they'd already bought.

None passing by gave him any cause for concern. He wasn't sure if that meant they truly didn't warrant concern, or if it was because he was getting soft.

Surely there was no need for him to be thinking about watching his back now that he wasn't a soldier—now that he was in a place called Paradise.

When Hannah returned to the buggy, she was carrying a big bag with the store name imprinted on it. Chris got out to put it in the buggy for her and she looked surprised.

“What? Is there no chivalry among the Amish men?”

“I don't know this 'chivalry' but I'm capable of carrying a shopping bag.”

Chris pretended to heft the bag with great effort. “I don't know about that. I think you bought a piece of every bolt of fabric in the store.”

Hannah put her hands on her hips. “I did not!”

“And spent all your salary from teaching there last week.“He could tell his words hit home when she blushed.

“Not all,” she said primly.

“Because you got an employee discount.”

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to protest until she saw him grin and hold out his hand to help her into the buggy.

“How do you know about employee discounts?” she asked him as she climbed in by herself.

“My first job was at a store, and I spent most of my paychecks buying things,” he said, chuckling at the memory. “I only stopped when my dad refused to pay for my car insurance.”

He glanced at her as she called to Daisy to get the buggy moving. “No sixteen-year-old boy can go without his wheels.”

“It's much the same here,” she said with a smile. “Our young men have courting buggies and some of them deck them out with radios and such.”

Her smile faded. “Some of them leave before being baptized because they want the cars. And the music. Well, what some of the young people call music. It sounds like—”

She stopped and shook her head. “Well, it doesn't sound like any music I remember listening to during my
rumschpringe.”

“Caterwauling,” Chris told her. “My dad always called it caterwauling. Now I think it's just blasphemous calling heavy metal that kind of name.”

He stretched out his long legs as best as he could within the confines of the buggy. “So anyway, I stopped buying this and that so I could keep my wheels.” He chuckled again. “Of course, the car was one big rust heap and held together with duct tape. And prayer. I did a lot of praying when I drove, that's for sure.

“Prayer stood me in good stead when I went into battle,” he said, looking inward. “I don't know of anyone who doesn't do it on the front lines.” He fell silent. “I remember doing a lot of prayer there. But I know now I was trying to bargain with God, asking him to keep me alive. And later, after my friend was killed in front of me and when I was hurt, I was just so angry at Him.”

“I think everyone's had a time when they're angry with God. Or at the very least disappointed?”

He was silent for so long that she wondered if she'd come across as preaching. The Amish didn't believe in doing that, but he still could think that. Neither of them spoke for several blocks.

“I doubt you've ever told God you're angry with Him.”

“Well, disappointed might be more accurate,” she agreed.

“Anyway, I didn't mean to take us down that path. This was supposed to be a pleasant hour or two away from home.”

“I'm happy to listen if it helps.”

He glanced at her. “You're a nice woman, Hannah.”

“I don't think you thought that when you first came here.”

“You were just being protective of your family. I don't blame you.”

Another buggy passed, and its occupant leaned out the side and studied them. Chris saw it was Josiah coming back from his errand.