Katie's Journey to Love (12 page)

Mamm
was already at the kitchen doorway, holding the kerosene lamp in her hand. She paused to look back over her shoulder at Katie.

“I'm coming,” Katie said quietly as she softly walked after
Mamm
. They parted at the stair door, and Katie crept up the squeaky steps, feeling her way by sliding her hands along the walls. She reached the top. The house wasn't quite familiar yet, but she could find her way without a light, well enough to keep from tripping and flying across the floor anyway.

Katie found the knob to her bedroom door, turned it, and pushed the door open. She paused in the doorway as her thoughts turned to Mabel. Mabel and Mose. The idea wouldn't go away. How did Mabel leave without anyone hearing her? Katie decided she had to know tonight. It was stupid, but did
the washroom door really open without a squeak? Perhaps knowing for sure about Mabel's shenanigans would lessen her own troubled thoughts about Ben and
Mamm
and the trip to Europe. At least there would be someone else in the family who wasn't behaving the way they were supposed to…or expected to.

Katie left her bedroom door open and felt her way back downstairs, carefully avoiding the stairs that squeaked. In the living room, a glow of starlight filled the room, distinguishable now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Katie went through the kitchen, dodging the chair she'd been sitting on.

If she accidently made a racket,
Mamm
or even Jesse would come to check it out, so it might be good to have an excuse ready. Katie eased her way to the kitchen sink. Seeing the shape of a glass sitting on the counter, she wrapped her fingers around it and lifted. She gently pushed the faucet up a fraction of an inch and waited for the faint sound of water filling the cup. She shut the faucet off seconds later and drank a few sips. Now she wouldn't be lying if she had to tell
Mamm
or Jesse she'd wanted to get a drink.

Katie felt her way through the washroom and pushed open the outer door. It swung on its hinges without a sound.

Chapter Twelve

Two evenings later, on a Friday night, Ben Stoll pulled his buggy to a stop behind a grocery store on the west end of Dover. Along these streets the houses were beginning to glow with Christmas decorations, but Ben didn't notice. The guilt that had been gnawing at him for weeks was in full force. How had he gotten himself into this situation? Around him the shadows behind the store blended in with his horse and buggy, camouflaging them as always, but tonight it no longer seemed the perfect setup he'd once thought it to be. They'd been using this place for two years now. Rogge Brighton had assured him they wouldn't get caught, and so far he hadn't been wrong.

Rogge had approached Ben at an
Englisha
party soon after he'd begun
rumspringa
. Ben hadn't purchased an automobile back then, and he remained without one to this day. It really wasn't his thing to tear around wasting a lot of time and gasoline, though that was what many Amish boys did during their
rumspringa
years.

He had enough friends to ride along with when such trips were
necessary. That was
gut
enough for him. Rogge had suggested Ben keep his lifestyle like it was to avoid suspicion, so he had. Now it was time to end this arrangement between Rogge and him. He'd made enough money—much more than he could have made in years of working for a construction company. Something conscience also screamed against.

He told himself again, as he had so often before, that all he'd been doing was picking up a large package here on a regular basis, opening it, and then distributing the smaller packages inside to the people on a list that Rogge gave him. It wasn't that big a deal, and yet Ben knew it was. He dropped off the small packages mostly at parties, but occasionally he delivered to someone's home. Ben knew lives were being affected, and he couldn't ignore the knowledge any longer.

Rogge was only concerned with getting caught, and that hadn't happened. He had the brains for this kind of business. He'd assured Ben that if he did as he was told, he would make a lot of money and not get into trouble. And Ben had listened so far. Obedience was a trait bred deep in all Amish, and for Ben it was still there even as he went about
rumspringa
. Besides the obedience factor, following orders was a small price to pay for such easy money.

Ben leaned out of the buggy door to peer down the street. Where was Rogge? He was late again. They never spoke via cell phones even though Ben kept one under the buggy seat. It was for emergencies, though Ben wasn't sure what that kind of emergency might be. He liked having the cell phone because it gave him the feeling of being a real businessman. The only people he could call were his friends on
rumspringa
though.

He'd known from the start that the stuff he dropped off couldn't be doing anyone any
gut
. He certainly stayed far away from the contents himself, although he had opened one of the
packages to see what the stuff looked like. From what he observed in Rogge's clients, the substance sent most young people that used it off into some sort of la-la land. But still they used it—and they would probably use it whether he was involved or not. That had always sufficed as an excuse for his participation. Until lately, that is. An empty feeling had crept into his heart, and that, coupled with the guilt, was overwhelming. Something had to change. He'd lost his faith over this mess he was in. Or perhaps he'd fallen into this mess because he couldn't get his faith straight. He wasn't sure which was right, but one sounded about as bad as the other.

Rogge, though, never seemed to worry about such scruples. And in his presence, Ben had never dared voice his doubts or concerns. But now the time had come for a change. He planned to tell Rogge tonight that he was quitting, and this delivery would be his last. He'd made the decision the other evening at the Mennonite gathering. Noticing Katie Raber these past weeks had done something to him. When he tried to remember Katie from the many years he'd known of her, she was just a distant haze in his mind. He'd never paid much attention to her beyond knowing she was the daughter of the weird widow Emma Raber. He did know enough to remember that Katie had always been quiet…reserved…withdrawn. She'd been like a silent shadow that hung around the edges of the Amish youth.

What had happened to change the girl so completely? Ben wondered. He hadn't believed his eyes at Jesse's wedding when he'd realized who she was. This was Emma Raber's daughter, the odd girl he'd seen around—only it wasn't. And, if he wasn't mistaken, she had quite a crush on him. He'd seen it in her eyes. It was a pleasant thought too. Not that he paid that much attention to the fawning of girls. There'd been many of them over the years. But Katie was different. There was a freshness about her, an innocence and vibrancy. He sensed Katie had faced the world and won,
but he wasn't sure what that meant or what she'd gone through to get to that place.

However, it made him decide it was time to straighten out his life. At least in some measure. He'd never expected motivation to reach him through a girl—a woman, really—but it had. Plus Katie wasn't that bad looking. And she didn't seem to know it, which made her even more attractive. Always before, when he thought about his faith, the only options he'd considered were joining the Amish church after his
rumspringa
years or leaving the faith. Neither choice appealed to him. Now a third one leaped to mind. He could join the Mennonites. That was what Katie seemed ready to do. He should have thought of the Mennonites before, but they'd always seemed a little stuck-up. But how wrong he'd been. They were a nice bunch of people.

Katie and the Mennonite Church were clearly worth looking into further. And even if the Mennonite angle didn't work out, he was still going to get out of this business and go into something more legitimate and fulfilling.

Ben's thoughts were interrupted when headlights raced around the corner of a building a few blocks away. They blinked out, which was followed quickly by a squeal of tires. That would be Rogge arriving in his increasingly careless fashion. He needed to use much more caution, Ben thought. Rogge did in most things, but he seemed to be slipping lately. It came from too many months of success, Ben figured. Success could dull even the brightest brain. That was another reason for him to move on.

Quick footsteps soon came from the shadows as Rogge's form materialized. He had a large bundle beneath one arm.

“Hey there, my good man!” Rogge greeted Ben, throwing the package on the buggy floor.

Keep your voice down!
Ben wanted to say. He stared at the
bundle. Inside would be a large packet of twenty dollar bills for his trouble.

“Same setup as usual,” Rogge said. “There are some new people this time around, but it's all laid out in the instructions. This ought to be a good week. And next week will be even better. See ya later, man.” Rogge stepped away from the buggy and turned to go.

“Wait a minute!” Ben called as loudly as he dared. When Rogge turned back, Ben took a deep breath. “This is my last run, Rogge. I'm ready to do something different. And since I'm not giving you much notice, why don't you just keep the payment for this delivery? I don't want any hard feelings between us.”

Rogge stepped closer. “What did you just say?”

“I'm quitting. This is my last run. I'm not doing this any longer. It's time to do something different.”

Ben noticed the whites of Rogge's eyes even in the dim shadows. He must be shocked, and clearly this news wasn't being received well. But that was to be expected.

“You have any particular reason for this?” Rogge asked.

“No, it's just time. We've been doing this long enough, and eventually the police might figure it out. Not likely, but why take the chance? Plus I've met someone—a woman—and I might want to settle down.” That wasn't quite true, but it might make sense to Rogge. At least more than his other reasons would. Rogge laughed, which was encouraging.

“A woman? She must really be something to give up all of this easy money.”

“Maybe,” Ben said before joining in the laughter.

Then Rogge stopped laughing. “You're leaving me in quite a fix, Ben. I have orders lined up for the next six months. It's not like I can cut contracts,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that. They're not friends like we are. You either spend time in the can or you
deliver for these people. Those are the only two options they understand.”

Ben hesitated. He was wavering. He glanced down at the bulge in the package where he knew the twenties were. But his conscience screamed and got his attention. “Look, I'm sure you can find someone else to do the deliveries. I need to do something else. I know it's been good between you and me, but I'm having bad feelings about things.”

“Really? Like what?” Rogge was staring at him.

“I don't know…just a feeling. This business has been going too well for too long. I don't want to press my luck.”

Rogge grunted, his face hidden in the shadows. “Maybe, but it's still a shame.”

“I have to quit,” Ben insisted. He felt a twinge of fear. What if Rogge wasn't going to let him off the hook? What if Rogge decided he wasn't trustworthy? Ben decided there wasn't much his friend could really do. If he made a stink, Ben knew too much to try blackmail. And harming an unarmed Amish man wasn't exactly a deed someone of Rogge's caliber would want on his hands. Plus they were friends. That ought to count for something. He looked down at Rogge. “I need to do something else for awhile.”

“Well, how about you give me a few more weeks while I scout around for another courier? Until then, it's back here next week at nine o'clock. Okay?”

Ben tried to say something, but Rogge had already turned and was gone, the sound of his footsteps fading away in the darkness. Minutes later a car engine roared to life, headlights stabbed the darkness, and tires squealed as a sports car took off and disappeared down the street.

Ben slapped the reins and drove his horse west and out of Dover. He should have been firmer with Rogge. He should have
insisted that this really was the last time. But now the moment was past. To the steady beat of horse hooves on the street, Ben stared out into the night and watched as the shapes of trees and bushes along the road drifted past like ghostly forms. He shook his head. Why hadn't he stood his ground? But he knew why. Because he was weak. Weak on the inside. Ben thrust the thought away. He
would
quit. It might just take some time to accomplish. He slapped the reins hard against his horse's back. As the horse sped up, Ben vowed he would quit—and soon, very soon. Regardless of what Rogge had to say about it. So what if his decision placed Rogge in a bind. He could find someone else. Anyone could deliver packages.

And Ben decided he'd get rid of some of the money—put it toward a good cause. That would be a
gut
thing, and it might make him feel better. He could go to Deacon Noah and give a donation to the general fund the Amish kept for emergencies among themselves. But, then, giving it to Deacon Noah might not work. He'd probably ask where such a large sum of money came from.

Ben's thoughts were interrupted by the bouncing lights of an
Englisha
automobile in the distance. Long before the noise of an engine reached him, the piercing colored lights of a police cruiser blossomed above the headlights and sent wild shadows dancing in the night air. Ben clutched the reins and pulled back so hard that Longstreet slid to a halt, his shoes scraping hard on the pavement. Ben quickly guided him to the side of the road as far as he could to get out of the way.