The Choice (35 page)

Abraham gently put his hands on Andy’s arms, then steered him up to Carrie. Andy threw his arms around Carrie’s middle, as they watched the car with Abel, head held high, pass by them.

Emma met Carrie at the kitchen steps. “He didn’t do it, Carrie. He would never do anything to hurt us.”

Carrie brushed past her and went into the kitchen.

Emma followed behind. “Carrie, are you listening to me?”

Carrie picked up a rag and started rubbing clean the floury countertop where Emma had made the cinnamon rolls. “I heard you.”

Emma grabbed Carrie’s shoulders. “You know he’s innocent, don’t you?”

Carrie looked right at her. “Yes. I know.”

Emma dropped her arms and looked at Carrie, puzzled.

“But I also know he is lying, and if I know Abel, that probably means he is protecting someone.” Carrie put the rag on the counter and crossed her arms. “So who is he protecting, Emma? And why?”

“What I want to know,” Mattie asked, leaning on the kitchen doorjamb with her arms crossed, “is who gave the police that tip?”

Sol had read about Carrie’s barn burning in a newspaper at work that morning, but he didn’t let on to Mattie that he knew when he met her for a walk at the pond in the late afternoon. He listened carefully as she filled him in on the details of the fire.

Then she added one little piece of information that he had missed—the actual day of the fire. For some reason, he thought it must have happened a few days ago, but Mattie said it happened yesterday. He should have read that newspaper article more carefully, he realized. His stomach made a slow, sickening twist.

“Something bothering you, Sol?” Mattie asked as they walked along the pond shore. “You’re awful quiet.”

He looked into Mattie’s soft, kind eyes, then turned back to the pond, as still as glass. Like a stone thrown into the pond, he knew his words would disturb the calm, set into motion a rippling effect he couldn’t stop. Mattie had always believed the best in him, and now he was about to change that.

He released a puff of air. “I told the police that Abel Miller set those barn fires.”

He winced, bracing himself for her fury, but nothing stirred behind those pale gray eyes.

Then he felt a jolt that went straight through him, as real as lightning.

Mattie knew! She knew what he had done.

“It wasn’t a lie, Mattie,” he said quickly. “I had some information about him. Something you don’t know about. In Ohio, he had gone to jail for killing some folks in a fire. I thought he might try and hurt Carrie.”

Yesterday afternoon, Sol was sent to City Hall by the construction site manager to pick up some building permits. As Sol left City Hall, permits in hand, he noticed Abel Miller run up the stairs as if he was late for something. When Sol read about the fire early this morning, the more he convinced himself that Abel was responsible. It infuriated Sol to think this man could cause harm to his people, especially his Carrie. He asked his boss if he could take an early break and went straight to the police station with a copy of that newspaper clipping that he kept in his wallet.

But Mattie had just told him that the fire had been started at about the same time he had seen Abel Miller at City Hall. She added that the police had already come to take Abel away. That was when his stomach started feeling it was twisting like a pretzel. As much as Sol distrusted Abel, even he knew there was no way the man could have been in two places at once.

Mattie’s gray eyes showed her disappointment in him. They almost changed color, darkening to a smoky gray. Her eyes were like that, he’d learned. A weathervane for her feelings.

“Abel didn’t kill anyone. Neither did Daniel. Not intentionally. Those Ohio fires were just a terrible accident. Carrie told me all about them.” She explained to Sol about the kerosene containers contaminated with gasoline.

He felt a stinging heat in his chest and eyes. What had he done? What terrible blunder had he made? “I thought I was doing the right thing, Mattie. Everything pointed to Abel Miller. I was trying to help. You’re always saying that if we love someone, we want the best for that person. I only want the best for Carrie.”

A trace of color rose under Mattie’s fair skin. “I also said only God knows the best for a person.” She looked at a duck, skimming the surface of the pond. “Sometimes, I think you aren’t as interested in Carrie as you are about winning.” She marched up to the road, skirts swishing, and tossed over her shoulder, “Winning her back is like a game to you.”

Sol took a few quick strides to catch up with her. “That’s not true, Mattie!”

She stopped. “And since when have our people ever,
ever
judged another?” She stamped her foot. “You think you can banish anyone who doesn’t fit in your scheme . . . like Daniel.” She shook her head, disgusted. “And now Abel.”

Sol felt as if she had knocked a punch to his solar plexus. So Carrie
had
told her about his visit on the day Daniel died. He had never brought it up to Mattie, hoping she hadn’t known. She had a look on her face that suddenly panicked him, a bright, painful look that glittered in her eyes. Oh God, could he lose her too? When he reached out to her, she backed up and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Sol, you sit on the fringe, not Amish, not English, and you still think you can have everything you want.” She wagged a finger at him like an angry mother. “Well, you can’t!”

Sol’s eyes went wide. “Mattie—”

“Don’t Mattie me!”

“Please, Mattie. Calm down. Don’t be mad. I’m not like you, Mattie. You . . . you’re like a furrow, plowed straight and deep. You always knew right where you wanted to go, how you wanted to be. I’m trying, but it’s just not that way for me. I’m not . . . strong like you.” The words shocked him coming out as they did, without thought or premeditation, but he knew them to be true. He suddenly knew what was making his chest hurt. It was fear. It was nothing like he’d felt before. He felt a fear of never being able to make things right with the people he loved. He felt a fear of losing Mattie. He felt a fear of God turning his back on him.

He slid a cautious glance at Mattie and watched her eyes fill with a soft pity, stinging his pride, but he could see the fight slip away from her.

“Oh Sol,” she finally said. She came close to him and wiped the tears off his cheeks with her palm. She smiled again, a warm, slow smile and the warmth of it spread down deep into Sol’s chest. “Don’t you understand? It’s never too late to be the man you were intended to be.”

You have to know what you’re looking for.

Those words of Chief Beamer kept echoing in Carrie’s mind. She spent the afternoon poking through the ashes of the barn.

Emma came down to help. “What are we looking for?”

“Anything. Anything that might tell us how this fire started.” “Carrie,” Emma started, looking worried, “maybe we should let the police handle this.”

Carrie looked up. “I thought you didn’t believe Abel could have set this fire? The police seemed pretty sure he did.”

Emma bit her lip, then gave a quick nod of her capped head, picked up a stick, and started looking.

Covered with gray ash, hands black with soot, Carrie was just about to give up the hunt when she found something. Something that split her heart down the middle.

Steelhead arrived, but before he could dismount from his motorcycle, Emma hurried to tell him Abel needed his help. She explained quickly what had happened and where Abel had been taken.

Steelhead winked at her. “Don’t you worry, little muffin. I’ll see what I can do.”

The neighbors returned home to do their own chores after completing the work on the carriage house, but Esther and Abraham lingered and agreed to stay for dinner. When supper was ready, Carrie found Esther at the carriage house, giving Abraham, a man known for his skilled carpentry, suggestions about how to hammer the final hinges onto the gates.

“You’ve got the patience of a saint,” Carrie whispered to Abraham as he packed up his toolbox, out of earshot of Esther.

His eyes smiled as he said, “Always good to have a supervisor.” The way he said it reminded her so much of something her father would have said that Carrie felt a sharp pang. Her father had such an easy way about him and never took offense. Not unlike Abel, she suddenly realized.

With everyone seated at the kitchen table, Abraham gave the signal to offer silent grace for the meal, just as Steelhead returned. Hanging tightly on behind him was Abel. Andy leaped up like a puppy to greet him, opening the door and bouncing down the kitchen steps. Abel wrapped an arm around Andy’s shoulders and climbed the stairs to give everyone an awkward nod.

“I just wanted you all to know that I’ve been released. No charges.” He and Steelhead stood by the door, tentatively, as if they weren’t sure they would be welcomed.

“That is a great blessing,” Abraham said, smiling warmly. “I could not understand why they thought you would have started a fire in your own barn, anyway.”

“Carrie’s barn,” Abel said, glancing at Carrie. “And Andy’s.”

“Our barn,” Yonnie interrupted. “These orchards belong to all of us.”

“Sit,” Abraham said, pointing to the empty chairs. “Eat with us.”

Emma and Carrie rose to set places for Abel and Steelhead. Emma filled up two heaping plates of food while Carrie set the utensils at their places. Abel went to the sink to wash up. He looked at Carrie, a question in his eyes, but she turned away.

Abel and Steelhead sat down at the table and automatically bowed their heads. “Thank you, dear Jesus,” Steelhead started. Emma and Carrie froze. “Thank you for setting free my brother Abel. Thank you for this fine meal made by these two fine women.”

Carrie dropped her head into the palms of her hands.

“Thank you, sweet Jesus. We love you, Lord. Amen. Amen. Hallelujah.” He popped his head up, grinning widely. He patted Abel on the back. “Chow time, little buddy.”

Esther sat there stoney-faced, watching Steelhead. Tonight Carrie noticed that there were deep lines around her mouth and eyes, and the hair that showed from beneath her prayer cap was turning as gray as a winter day. She was still beautiful, Carrie thought, aware that her father had always thought so too. Emma, seated next to her mother, was in sharp contrast, as plain and plump as one of Yonnie’s buttermilk biscuits.

Abraham smiled broadly. “So, Abel, tell us how it came to be that you were released.”

Abel looked up, exchanging a glance with Steelhead. “Turns out Steelhead had seen me, during the time of the fire. So, I had an alibi, after all.”

“It’s the gospel truth, I did see him,” Steelhead said, before shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth.

“You couldn’t have thought to tell the police officers that piece of information when they asked?” Esther asked Abel.

The same thought occurred to Carrie.

“Isn’t it wonderful that Abel is done with that nonsense?” Emma asked.

“Then just as Steelhead arrived, another fellow came in and said he had seen me in town yesterday afternoon. I think you all know him.” Abel cast a sideways look at Carrie. “A fellow named Solomon Riehl.”

Silence fell over the table. Finally, the deacon cleared his throat. “Emma, I’d like more of your wonderful chicken pot pie.” He reached over to her with his empty plate. “And in a month’s time, we will build a new barn. A farm is not a farm without its barn.”

“So, Abel, with the workshop gone, where do you plan to live?” Esther asked, frowning.

“Right here, with us,” Yonnie said, frowning right back at Esther.

Carrie put up a hand in warning. “Actually, he might prefer to stay with Steelhead for a while.”

Abel kept his eyes on his plate.

“Good,” Esther said, satisfied. “We should be going. Abraham, it’s time for prayer.” She bowed her head.

“Not yet, Esther,” the deacon said.

Meekly, Esther lifted her head.

Abraham handed Esther the casserole. “Have another piece of your daughter’s chicken pot pie. It’s a fine dish.”

“It sure is,” Steelhead said as Emma’s face flamed.

Esther and Abraham left soon after supper. Carrie made Andy take a bath to wash off soot and ash after being near the barn all day. The stench of sour smoke was everywhere. As she was gathering his dirty clothes to launder, she heard Yonnie’s knees creak up the stairs and her door quietly close. Carrie listened for the roar of Steelhead’s motorcycle to start up before she went downstairs, sure that Abel had left with him. But there he was, at the kitchen window, staring out at the place where the barn had been. He spun around when he heard her.