Off the Grid (Amish Safe House, Book 1) (9 page)

Kate knew no one was immune to random acts
of violence. Yet even so, something about the crime didn't feel
random at all. She was missing something important. Her instincts
had never been wrong before. If only her instincts would be
slightly more specific.

Psalm 4: 8.

In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for
you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.

Chapter
13
.

Kate was more than a little anxious as Isaac
drove her to the bishop. Despite the fact that the bishop knew her
true identity, Kate was concerned that the bishop might not be
happy with her behavior in the Amish community thus far.

And so it was with some relief on her part
that the bishop greeted her happily, and appeared to be genuinely
pleased to see her. Isaac drove off in his buggy at once, and the
bishop’s wife, Martha, promised to take Kate home later.

Kate followed the bishop and his wife
inside, thankful that she could let her guard down for a while.
Martha at once disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, and the
bishop indicated that Kate should sit on a chair opposite him.

“How are you finding it all?” he asked.

Kate smiled. “Well, it’s very different to
what I imagined. I do miss the internet, TV, and my phone, but I’m
kept so busy helping Beth with the chores that I wouldn’t have much
time for them anyway. I hope no one suspects that I’m not
Amish.”

The bishop shook his head. “There are
various Amish communities, and all of them with different ways. The
fact that you’re supposed to be from another community in another
state throws any suspicion off you.”

Martha chose that moment to return. “I
supposed you’re used to hot meadow tea by now, Katie,” she said, as
she deposited two steaming mugs on the little round table.

“Yes, I’ve developed quite a liking for it,”
Kate said. “I like peppermint and I like sugar, so this tea’s ideal
for me. I’ll have to get the recipe so I can keep making it when I
leave.”
When I leave
. The words caused a heavy lump to
nestle in the bottom of Kate’s stomach. How long was she going to
stay here, trapped in an Amish community? It was like going back in
time, to another era.

Martha chuckled. “It sounds like this pie
will be ideal for you, too. It’s Sugar Cream Pie.” She scooped up a
generous serving of the pie and deposited it on a plate, which she
handed to Kate, and then cut a noticeably smaller piece for her
husband. With that, Martha left the room, leaving Kate to talk to
the bishop.

Kate looked at her slice of pie and her
mouth watered at the sight of the baked whipped cream with cinnamon
on top. The pastry was simply delectable.
One thing about the
Amish
, Kate thought,
they are superb cooks and you can’t
fault their work ethic
.

“Now, it must have been quite a shock for
you to find Mr. Byler like that,” the bishop said.

Kate looked at him. She wondered for a
moment if he was playing along with her cover, but then realized
that he was a man of God, after all. Surely she could turn to him
for help and advice, even though she herself wasn’t actually
Amish.

“Yes, it was,” she said. “Do you have any
idea who would want to,
err
, do away with Mr. Byler?”

The bishop shook his head. “
Nee
, we
leave that up to the police.”

Kate nodded, realizing that she would be
unable to question the bishop about suspects. There was silence for
a moment, and then Kate spoke. “There’s something I’d like to ask
you, if I may.”

The bishop nodded by way of granting
permission.

“Would you mind explaining to me explain the
Amish attitude to death? It seems that no one’s concerned with
finding out what happened to Mr. Byler, and while people appear
sorry that he’s gone, no one is paying too much attention to the
matter.”

“We are followers of Christ,” the bishop
said, “and that means we sometimes suffer, just as Christ suffered
for us. You haven’t been here long enough to come to one of our
church meetings yet but when you do, you will hear songs sung from
the
Ausbund
. Do you know what the
Ausbund
is?”

Kate had to admit that she didn’t.

“Most of the hymns in the Ausbund were
written by men under sentence of death,” the bishop continued.
“They believed in adult baptism, and for this, many were imprisoned
and then put to death. So then, many of the words of the hymns tell
of deep loneliness and great sorrow. Jesus suffered, so we should
be willing to suffer.”

Kate thought for a moment. “So does such a
belief take away the pain of sorrow?”

“Yes and no,” the bishop said. “Everything
that happens is the will of
Gott
, and there is comfort in
that. If one of our loved ones goes to be with the Lord, we know
that person is in a better place, with
Gott
.”

“I did notice that the whole community
rallied around for Mr. Byler’s funeral,” Kate said.

The bishop nodded. “Always remember, Kate,
that
Gott
is love, and so, for us death holds no fear.”

This was a foreign concept to Kate, and she
sat silently as she tried to understand. It was clear that the
Amish had a strong sense of community, and they also appeared to be
content. Yet why didn’t they care who killed Mr. Byler? Kate
decided just to come straight out and ask.

“Forgive me if this isn’t the sort of
question I should be asking,” she said, “but why aren’t you
interested in the identify of Mr. Byler’s killer? Don’t you want to
be reassured that he will be found and brought to justice?’

The bishop smiled patiently. “It is not up
to man to judge,” he said. “Rather, it is up to
Gott
to
judge. Our duty is simply to forgive. The Bible says,
Forgive us
our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespassed against
us
. The Bible also says,
If you forgive men their
trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you
do not forgive their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive
your trespasses
.”

“I know those verses,” Kate said, “but is
that meant for today?”

“
Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today,
and forever
.”

Kate supposed that was the bishop’s way of
saying
Yes
. “So does that mean that you don’t judge someone
who has done something terrible?”

“More than that,” the bishop said. “We are
to love our enemies. The Bible says,
If your enemy is hungry,
give him food; if your enemy is thirsty, give him drink
.”

Kate’s eyes narrowed. She thought about the
man who was responsible for her having to go into hiding. If he was
hungry, would she feed him? Certainly not. She could think of many
things she’d like to do to him, and none of them involved giving
him a drink or some food.
How do these people do it?
Kate
wondered.

Psalm 23: 1 - 3.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not
want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.

He restores my soul.

He leads me in paths of righteousness

for his name's sake.

Chapter
14
.

Kate did her best to keep the fake smile
pasted on her face. It was bad enough that she had to leave her
life behind and pretend to be a simple Amish girl, but now she had
to take place in, of all things, a knitting circle. Every lady in
the room seemed twice her age, some even appeared to be close to
three times her age.

“Knitting is so relaxing, don’t you agree?”
an elderly woman said.

“Oh, look at these.” Another held up a pair
of baby booties. “Won’t my
grossboppli
, Rachel, be so warm
with these on her precious, little feet?”

All the other ladies agreed.

“I’m knitting these booties for my new
grossboppli
, Sarah,” one of the group declared. “My
dochder
, Nancy, just had her a month ago and she grows
sweeter every day.”

Kate smiled genuinely at that. The baby was
indeed one of the most beautiful she had ever seen, and Sue was a
kind, soft spoken, young woman.

“Katie, do you need help with that scarf?”
another voice asked.

Kate looked down at what was supposed to be
a long, black, triangular shawl in the making. “I’ve dropped a few
stitches, I think,” she said, holding up the offending section.

“
En Schtich in Zeit is neine wart
schpaeder naus
,” one lady said.

“Now ladies,” a woman called Lillian said,
“we have to speak in
Englisch
. Katie, that meant, 
A
stitch in time, saves nine
. Perhaps you forgot how to knit
because of the amnesia.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” Kate said,
instead of speaking her true feelings. This deep undercover
business was going to be the end of her. She just wanted to back to
where the world made sense.

“Not to be a nosy busybody,” Lillian said,
“but Katie, have the police come back to talk to you?”

“Lillian!” Several voices all spoke at
once.

“
Nee
, they haven’t,” Kate said. She
smiled to herself knowing that the other ladies were just as
curious as Lillian, despite their protestations.

Kate’s thought drifted to the handsome cop,
and she felt her cheeks grow hot.
I’m sure he’s not interested
in me
, she thought, but then again, why did she care what he
thought of her anyway? He seemed to be one of those men who thought
a woman couldn’t take care of herself. But then again she could
hardly judge him too harshly. He thought she was a sweet Amish
lady, not a U.S. Marshal who could help him catch a murderer. If
only she could break character, but of course, if she did, whoever
was after her would be bound to get word and come for her. And as
much as she hated knitting, she didn’t want to put anyone in the
community in danger, least of all for the sake of her pride.

Kate looked up, wondering if the ladies were
staring at her while she had been lost in thought, but she was
relieved that the ladies were laughing together over another
matter. Kate smiled. While she was sure she would never grow
accustomed to knitting, much less enjoy it, chatting with this
group was not all that bad after all.

Kate wanted to ask questions, but wasn’t
sure the best way to word it. Finally, she decided simply to come
right out and ask. “I was wondering if Mr. Byler had any enemies. I
mean, who would want to murder such a man?”

“Such a shame,” Lillian said, “murdered on
his own property. You would not expect that here.”

“The world is getting smaller with the
Englischers’
internet and what not,” one lady said.

“We need to pray harder for the younger
generation,” another voice piped up.

“Who said it wasn’t someone older?” Lillian
asked. “Why I saw Esther’s
grossmammi
, Rhoda, chase the cat
that always tears her dresses on the clothes line with a frying
pan. She ran nearly half a mile at
gut
speed, and she’s over
eighty!”

Everyone collapsed into helpless peals of
laughter.

Kate took in all that was being said. These
women were more like everyone else than she had first thought. They
even made jokes with each other.

“Anyway, Katie asked a question.” Lillian
got them back on track.

Finally, Naomi, the one who Kate guessed to
be the oldest lady in the room, leaned forward in her rocking
chair. “I think his
sohn
did it,” she said in a croaky
voice.

A hush fell over the room.

“
Nee
,” Lillian said. “
Jah
,
he’s had trouble, but you can’t think that.”

“His son?” Katie asked. “What did his son
do?”

“Moses was a lovely little boy,” Lillian
said. “Joseph Byler and his
fraa
, Barbara, adopted him
because they couldn’t have
kinner
. Oh, hush,” she said when
the others gasped at her disclosure. “When he grew older, he wanted
to know about his birth
familye
and was bothered by the fact
they didn’t live in town. He left town looking for them, and got
into trouble with the law. But there is still good in him; I saw it
in his eyes before he left. He is still that lost little boy and he
would never harm his
vadder
.”

The oldest lady spoke again. “Sometimes it’s
the person you would least expect.”

Lillian shook her head.

Kate listened to everything that was said.
Now, at long last, she had had a suspect. Maybe the shooting was an
act of revenge for perceived wrong doings? Or maybe there was an
inheritance which the young man wanted to get his hands on in order
to fund his criminal lifestyle. Moses was certainly sounding like a
legitimate suspect. Kate wondered if the police were following up
on him. Surely they were, as it was standard procedure to look into
those closest to a victim in a murder case.

“But what about that developer who was going
to buy Joseph’s farm?” Beckie, one of the ladies, said. “Joseph
told me he was in two minds about selling the farm, ‘cause then the
Federal Energy Regulatory Commission could force the farm on the
far side to have power lines built right through it. They could
even force them to sell their farm cheaply.”

Another suspect
, Kate thought. Aloud
she said, “The other farm: are they Amish?”

“
Nee
,” Lillian said.
“
Englischers
, and very wealthy at that.”

Kate risked another question. “Was Joseph
Byler selling to the developer, or just thinking about it?”

“His mind was made up,” Lillian said. “He
was going to sell for sure. He was an elderly man, running that
farm by himself. No one knew where his son was, so he couldn’t
carry on the farm. Joseph had no choice but to sell, really.”