Authors: Lynette Sowell
“Huh. What are you making with rice? I was in the mood for some meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”
Rochelle tried not to sigh. “I’ll make some of that tomorrow night. I was busy today, so I put supper in the slow cooker before I left this morning.”
The front door opened again. It would be Betsy, home from the bakery.
“Hello.” Betsy trudged into the kitchen and set her tote bag on the table beside Rochelle’s computer.
“Hello to you, too.” Rochelle scanned Betsy’s face. “How did the television interview go today? Well, I hope?”
“Yes, it went well.” Betsy frowned as she sank onto the nearest chair. She cast a glance at
Aenti
Sarah continuing her step-click to the front room and a cushioned armchair, then glanced over to Daniel. “They were careful about how they filmed, but now I’m not sure if it’ll even make it to television.”
“Why not? What happened?”
Aenti
Chelle took the chair across from Betsy. “Daniel, please, sit down.”
“I can come back. This is family business, after all.” The man shifted from one foot to the other.
“No, you don’t have to leave.”
“Yes, it’s okay.” Betsy wanted to cry, but she didn’t. Crying was for little girls and she’d done enough crying over things she had no say about. “Somebody—I don’t know who—called the television station and told them I have someone baking for me who’s not Amish.”
“Well, whatever is wrong with that? For a while, you’ve had Thaddeus Zook helping you prep in the early mornings. But Vera and you do the baking and frying.”
Aenti
Chelle shook her head. “Of all the nerve, calling and trying to ruin things for you.”
“I know. But the newswoman looked nervous, said she needed to tell me and she’d have to run things by her bosses and let them know. She said the caller said it wasn’t right some people were pretending to be Amish and trying to get other people’s money.”
Daniel Troyer sat up sharply in his chair, so much so that the feet scraped on the tile floor. “Pardon me. My knee had a spasm. From when I fell the other morning.”
Betsy paused. She didn’t like the man. Not at all. Not with his fancy watch—now missing from his wrist—and his Plain-looking hair and beard. She heard Winston scratching at the back door leading to the lanai.
“Oh, I’ll let Winston in. Sorry,”
Aenti
Chelle said as she stood, “I was so wrapped up in my work when I got home I didn’t let him in.” She headed for the sliding glass door, and Winston skittered onto the tiles.
He slid to a stop when he saw Daniel, and the hair on his back rose. Then he growled.
“Winston, be nice.” Betsy shook her head at the dog, but she found it hard to blame him. “He’s a little protective.”
“It’s a good quality in a dog, even a small one.” Daniel reached down. “Here, boy. C’mon.” Winston didn’t budge.
“So, when will this newswoman let you know?”
“Tomorrow morning. I’m trying not to let it bother me much, but I can’t help it. I know it has to be someone in the village who called her, it must be. And then I don’t want to think about it, because it’s horrible to think someone here would do such a thing.”
Aenti
Chelle sighed and headed for the stove. Winston followed, looking over his shoulder. “Winston, it’s just rice. Nothing interesting for a dog.”
At any other time, Betsy would have laughed at Winston. But not now. She wondered what her
daed
would tell her about this latest development. He’d warned her about Thaddeus Zook.
“Here, let’s eat. Help me with the plates. I know you’re tired, and it’s been a busy day. I know dealing with the camera hasn’t been easy, either.”
Betsy joined
Aenti
Chelle by the cabinets. No amount of her
aenti
’s untraditional cooking would soothe the disappointment tonight.
If only Thaddeus were here. The idea of having his listening ear, along with the rest of him around her, helped a little.
Chapter 24
24
T
had and Ben Esh chatted the afternoon away under a tree dripping with Spanish moss. He met Ben’s wife, Tisha, a nurse. The couple had attended the same college near Lancaster in central Pennsylvania and married not long after graduation.
He and Ben were on their third cup of coffee after an early supper when the subject of being Amish or not Amish came up, along with the whole shunning thing.
“Don’t you know, if you were never baptized, you technically aren’t shunned? Sure, if you ever went back, you’d have to go through proving. But no, they shouldn’t have shunned you.” Ben Esh shook his head.
“But, your family—they still speak to you and welcome you into their home?” Thad asked.
“Yes, they do. I haven’t left my faith, either.” Ben’s tone grew more serious. “I’m sorry your experience has been far different than mine.”
Thad shrugged. “I can’t change the past. What’s done, is done.”
“God has gifted you with a unique talent, Thad. But whether you’re Plain, or not, you’re the one who has to ‘work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.’ I can’t judge you. As long as you believe Christ’s work on the cross saved us all, well, we have plenty of common ground.”
Thad nodded slowly. He was still trying to get his brain to catch up with the idea of shunning versus not shunning hinging on baptism. It seemed he had run off on
Rumspringa
, so to speak, and hadn’t returned. As far as what Ben said about Jesus, he already knew all about it. He’d been raised on the story of the cross and condemnation. But salvation and redemption? Those things seemed too hard to worry about.
Thad’s phone buzzed. Rochelle Keim, calling him back.
“Excuse me, Ben. I’ve been waiting for this call.”
“No problem.”
Thad pushed the button on his phone and headed toward the base of the tree, away from the picnic table beside the RV. “Hello, Ms. Keim.”
“I got your message, Thaddeus. If you’d like to come by this evening to use the laptop, you’re more than welcome. I know Betsy will be glad to see you, too.”
“All right, thank you. Thank you so much.”
Betsy will be glad to see you, too.
“Come by, anytime. But we generally close up around nine during the evenings around here.”
He glanced at his phone. The time was heading past six-thirty now. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Everything okay?” Ben asked as Thad returned to the table.
“Yes, I need swing by another friend’s house on my way home.” Friends. As reluctant as he’d been when first coming here, yes, he did have friends in Pinecraft.
“I’ve enjoyed catching up with you.” Ben stood, and the two shook hands. “Let’s keep in touch, okay? You’re going to be staying in Sarasota?”
“Yes. I think so, if I get called back on the job in Siesta Key Village.”
“Well, I’ll be praying you find your way.”
“Thanks, Ben.”
As Thad rode off on his motorcycle, it felt as though the future loomed ahead of him, as uncertain as ever. But for now, he could focus on one thing—seeing what was on that USB keychain.
He roared up on his Harley to Rochelle Keim’s house, and parked in front. Another vehicle occupied the space in the driveway beside Rochelle’s van.
Betsy answered his knock, along with Winston, who gave Thad a boisterous greeting. “Hello, come in. My
aenti
said you’d be stopping by.” He’d missed her wide smile lately. Something in her eyes, though, made him pause.
“How did everything go today?”
“It went well, I think. Although Emma left halfway through the day when some of her friends came by, to go fishing.” She made a face like she’d just sucked a lemon slice, then opened the screen door and he followed her into the house. Whatever had been supper smelled terrific. He thought he caught a whiff of curry powder in the air.
“Ah, I see.” He glanced around the kitchen, then heard voices coming from the opening sliding glass door from a covered lanai beyond. “Oh. I saw the car out front. You have company?”
“Daniel Troyer.”
“Huh. I should get a look at this guy.”
Betsy reached out and clutched his arm. “No—they’re talking. If we start introductions, he’ll stay even later. I’m hoping she’s going to send him off soon, anyway. And I can’t keep this from her much longer. I feel like she knows I don’t care for the man. Neither does Winston.”
She kept hold of his arm and he couldn’t resist the chance to gently take her hand between his. “Betsy, if things were different . . .”
“But they’re not.” She pulled her hand from his grasp.
He nodded. “Uh, about Daniel. I should tell you . . . I called that company he supposedly works for in Indiana. They told me the Daniel Troyer who worked for them passed away this spring.”
“No. Unless we have the wrong Daniel Troyer?” She shook her head.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I was visiting with Henry the other night, and he promised me he’d ask around, too. I don’t know as many people as he does in the Plain communities. Well, they’d talk to him a little more quickly than me.”
She frowned. “All right. I know he won’t say anything. Maybe I should have asked him first. But. . .”
“I’m glad you asked me.” He saw Rochelle’s laptop on the kitchen island. “I guess I should let your
aenti
know I’m here.”
“I’ll tell her. Go ahead, the computer is on island.” Betsy headed for the lanai, and Thad stepped over to the kitchen island. He pulled up a nearby stool from the corner.
Thad heard the murmur of voices, a deeper male voice, and the female voices. He popped the USB stick into the slot on the computer and waited while the computer recognized the storage in the drive. Video files, several of them.
He clicked on the first video and turned up the volume.
He recognized the setting immediately, the interior of Dish and Spoon. Mitch, the dirty dog, had set up hidden surveillance cameras throughout the restaurant. This first file was in the dining room, nearly empty. A group of men sat around one table. One of them he recognized straightaway. Mitch and his business partner, Pete something. A Polish name he couldn’t recall at the moment.
Another man looked vaguely familiar, and Thad wasn’t sure if it was because the guy was a regular customer. Maybe not. Even if he were, Thad didn’t see diners too often.
They all wore suits and the table was covered with dirty plates holding the remainders of their meals.
He could barely hear them speaking, but it was enough.
“So, we can guarantee you a spot in office if you help us get Ohio in the next presidential election. It’s going to be a key state.”
“There’s no way I can do it, gentleman,” the man said, steepling his hands. “There’s the matter of something called the electoral college.”
They kept talking about business dealings, money owed to this one and that, in addition to campaign funds guaranteed to the guy running for office.
Thad paused the video file and opened an Internet browser. A quick search told him the identity of the would-be senator, Channing Bright. The elections had come and gone, and the guy had won by a landslide. It looked like he’d had some help from the men around the table.
If this file were given to the wrong, or right, people, depending on how you looked at it, Bright would be in trouble. The election was over, but he didn’t take office until after the new year.
Was this what Mitch had been hiding? Surely, the police knew about the surveillance files. What about these?
He closed that file, then opened another.
Mitch, talking to the would-be senator himself.
“You know my situation, Mr. Bright.”
“I do.”
“Well, look over your shoulder right there.”
The future senator glanced toward the camera. “At what?”
“Smile, I’ve got this place wired and bugged, if you catch my meaning. It would be a shame if word got out about your activities in my restaurant.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I’m a million dollars serious.”
“It’ll take time for me to get so much together. I can’t believe you’re threatening me.”
“Oh, this is no threat. Come to think of it, my requirements just doubled. Look, two million is enough to give me some breathing room here. I ain’t gonna be going to Tahiti or anything. Paying off some bills and staying afloat. The restaurant business is tough.”
“Get a loan, then, and leave me out of your business.”
“I couldn’t dream of it. Desperate times, as they say.”
“All right, I’ll work on it.”
“You have one week. I’ll get you a bank account number for you to wire the money to, and you do the rest.”
The senator-to-be shook his head. “One week isn’t long.”
“It’s long enough.” Mitch stood. “A pleasure doing business with you. Smile big when you leave. I have cameras everywhere. And good luck on election day.”
The man glowered at Mitch, then stomped from the vacant restaurant.
Thad had seen enough.
* * *
Pete sucked in a deep breath and tried not to look triumphant for no reason at all. “Thaddeus Zook? No, I don’t believe I’ve met him.”
“Betsy’s quite taken with the young man. I like him. He’s a bit brooding, a bit of a wayward soul, but I think he’s on his way back.”
“Back?”
“To his faith.”
“Ah, I see.” But he didn’t. “So, are they dating or something?”
“Dating?” Rochelle’s jaw dropped. “No, Betsy wouldn’t date him. She’s Amish and wouldn’t be able to court someone who’s not baptized into the church.”
He was making mistakes. “Ah, so that’s not why he’s visiting tonight.”
“No, he’s borrowing my computer, checking some files.”
“Ah, I see.” Pete’s brain floundered for what to do next. So maybe Thad did find something. If only he could peek over the guy’s shoulder. He heaved himself to a standing position, taking care to mind his sore knee. “I should get going. I need to put some ice on my knee. Thank you for supper.”
“Thank you for the ice cream.”
He wasn’t going to act now, not with Rochelle’s family all around her. Better he leave and deal with Thaddeus in due time. Not too much time, though. He stood in the doorway, squinting toward the kitchen island where Thaddeus sat with his back to them, Betsy beside his elbow.
“See? This is my former boss, and his business partner. That other guy is now a senator in Ohio. And the fourth guy, I’m not sure who he is.”
Thad fell silent. He pushed a button. “Betsy, you probably shouldn’t watch anymore. I’m sorry.”
There was no way Pete could leave now. He reached for his sore knee. “Aw, Rochelle, do you mind if I sit a moment? It’s my knee.”
“Of course. Would you like another cup of coffee?”
“Please.” Pete limped back to the patio chair he’d occupied moments before. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Bright, probably. He let the call go to voice mail. He’d pay for it later, but for now he was handling things the way he wanted to.
* * *
Betsy tried to blot out the images, the angry words on the video as she washed the supper dishes.
Aenti
Chelle had wanted her to load the dishwasher instead, but tonight Betsy had energy to burn off before she could sleep.
Thad told her he used to work at that restaurant, and the owner had been murdered. Also, someone had tucked the keychain with the video files into his culinary gear. He had paused the video because one of the men—not his boss, but another man he didn’t recognize—made threats against his bosses, striking one of them in the face.
Yes,
Aenti
Chelle didn’t have a television in her home with good reason. Once you’d seen something, it was nearly impossible to forget what you’d seen. Those were some evil men around the table in the video, men who tried to buy an election unfairly. Trying to use violence and threats to get what they wanted.
Thad left not long ago, his brow furrowed. She didn’t blame him. He said something about calling the authorities in Ohio first thing, which probably meant he’d end up going back to Ohio to give witness about the files and discovering them.
She turned the hot water on and filled up the pot, sticky with residue from cooking rice.
If Thad left for Ohio, all the better. He’d been right, tonight, when he said, “
Betsy, if things were different . . .”
Things would have to be a
lot
different. Thad seemed to be softening some. He’d also mentioned something tonight about spending time with an old friend he knew before they both left the Order.
Lots of the time, people who’d been gone as long as he had didn’t fare well after returning to their Orders. Quite a few left again.
She didn’t like how she felt now, not seeing how they could be together, or even seriously consider being together, unless he made some changes.
“
Gotte
, please help Thaddeus. He came here to Pinecraft for a reason. Help him for his sake, not mine. I would rather he be somewhere else and be who You intended him to be, than be here near me for the wrong reasons.” She’d whispered the words aloud, but glanced to the lanai where
Aenti
Chelle sat, alone.
Truly, she had enough to fret over with the bakery without adding whatever feelings she had about Thaddeus to that stack of worries.
Aenti
Chelle had always been good to offer wisdom. Tonight, though, Betsy thought her
aenti
had her own battle to fight.
Also, her
aenti
probably welcomed the quiet time, and when Daniel departed not long after Thaddeus had roared away on his motorcycle,
Aenti
Chelle had headed to the lanai, her eyes rimmed in red.
Betsy, too, welcomed the quiet business of doing dishes and didn’t mind Emma leaving after supper, saying she was meeting up with some of the others at Big Olaf’s. This in spite of the fact Daniel had brought plenty of ice cream for all of them.
Another worry niggled her brain. Emma certainly didn’t act as if she’d just called off a wedding. The uproar hadn’t rippled through the family yet, giving Betsy the idea Emma hadn’t told their parents. She shook her head as she rinsed the silverware. But then, it was better to not marry than to marry with doubts.