Plain Peril Page 11

  Emma broke free and bolted toward them, her little arms pumping, a huge smile on her face. “You found Pumpkin!” Emma shoved her new bear in her big sister’s face. “And I got a new toy.”

  Hannah cupped Emma’s chin. Complete peace settled around her. She lifted up a silent prayer.

  Thank you, Lord, for keeping my family safe.

  * * *

  The next morning, Spencer yawned and squinted against the rising sun as he drove out to check on Hannah. He grabbed his travel coffee mug from the cup holder and took a big swig. He was going to have to hook up an IV of caffeine to stay awake today.

  Yesterday, once the fire was contained, Hannah had insisted she was fine and that Spencer leave.

  He had questioned the neighbors, including the Fishers. No one had seen anything. Young Samuel claimed he had finished his chores and returned home before the fire started. He hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary and no, he hadn’t seen Sarah out looking for her cat.

  Twenty-four hours later, he had no evidence to prove differently.

  When Spencer reached the farm, two buggies sat in the driveway. Apparently, word had gotten out about the barn fire. He stepped out of his pickup and strolled over to join Lester, the bishop, Willard and his son, Samuel. A regular party. But no sign of Hannah.

  They were talking excitedly and pointing to the barn. They were probably planning a barn raising. He had watched the Amish with fascination gather for a weekend and construct a barn. Old-fashioned techniques did not mean inefficient.

  “Officer Maxwell.” Willard seemed to take in Spencer’s casual clothes. “Any word on what caused this fire?”

  Spencer crossed his arms and widened his stance. There was something about this guy that rubbed him the wrong way.

  “It’s still under investigation.”

  Willard lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “And you’re working on your day off?”

  Spencer didn’t like the implication in his question, but he let it go.

  Willard placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “My son here saw something yesterday, and it’s best if he tells you all at the same time.”

  Lester adjusted his hat back on his head and Bishop Lapp made a hmm sound.

  Spencer’s pulse whooshed in his ears. He shifted his gaze to Samuel. “Why didn’t you tell me you saw something when I questioned you yesterday?”

  Samuel kicked a clump of mud with his boot and shrugged. He cut a sideways glance to his father.

  “The boy was afraid. That’s all.” Willard’s authoritative tone left no room for discussion. “He’s here now.”

  Samuel looked up, a hint of something indiscernible in his eyes. “I saw someone running out of the barn.”

  Spencer narrowed his gaze. He locked eyes with Willard then glanced back to his son.

  “Go on.” Willard nudged his son with his elbow. A flash of annoyance, and then fear crossed Samuel’s features. The boy was seventeen, on the cusp of being a man. His father wasn’t going to be able to bully him for much longer.

  Samuel cleared his throat and looked Spencer in the eye. “I had finished cleaning Buttercup’s stall when I heard heavy footsteps, too heavy to be Miss Wittmer’s or one of the little girls...” Samuel seemed agitated as he plucked at his suspenders.

  “I ducked behind some hay bales when I saw Mr. Lapp.”

  “Mr. Lapp?” An uneasy feeling settled in Spencer’s gut.

  “John Lapp,” Willard added.

  “You saw my son?” The pain and confusion in Bishop Lapp’s tone was palpable.

  “My boy,” Willard continued, “saw John Lapp march into his very own barn with a canister of gasoline. Only through Gott’s good will did my son escape.”

  “Are you saying Mr. Lapp started the fire and then ran out?” Spencer studied Samuel’s face. Red blossomed on his cheeks. Willard never removed his hand from his son’s shoulder.

  Bishop Lapp bowed his head, his expression hidden by the broad brim of his hat.

  “Why would my brother do such a thing?” Lester stepped closer to Samuel. “You have to be mistaken.”

  Samuel toed the hard-packed earth, freeing another clump of dirt. “He didn’t see me. I ducked to the side and then when the flames started coming, I ran home.”

  “Why didn’t you alert Hannah?” A mix of anger and disbelief hollowed out Spencer’s gut.

  Samuel swallowed hard. “Yeh, well, I was afraid. I heard the rumors...that he killed Mrs. Lapp. I wanted to get away. Far away.”

  Willard clapped his son’s shoulder. “You did gut.”

  Lester let out a heavy sigh and ran his hand down his scraggly beard. A look of capitulation crossed the hard angles of his features. “I suppose John has been struggling. Only Gott knows what’s in his heart. I fear I don’t know my brother anymore.”

  “My son is alive.” Bishop Lapp’s shaky voice was almost inaudible, but Spencer caught the trace of hope in it. “John is alive.”

  Lester’s brow furrowed. “Dat, this is not good news. John burned down his barn.”

  “My boy saw what he saw,” Willard interrupted.

  “My younger brother...” Lester pushed back his straw hat and shifted his feet, effectively blocking out Willard. The men obviously did not like each other.

  “Would you like to talk in private?” Spencer offered.

  Lester hesitated a minute. “Neh. My feelings in this community are no secret.” He tugged on the brim of his hat. “My brother was not content to follow the Ordnung. He questioned the rules and our father all the time. My father is not a young man. He should have been respected. The rules of the Ordnung are agreed upon by the community. Yet John kept wanting to push his will on all of us.”

  “Were his ideas radical?” Spencer studied Samuel, who seemed fidgety.

  “They were what you might call extreme,” Lester said, somewhat apologetically. “He wanted the Amish of Apple Creek to stay separate from the rest of the world.”

  “I’m confused,” Spencer said. “Aren’t the Amish already separate?”

  “We set ourselves apart. We are to follow Romans 12:2.” Willard squared his shoulders and continued. “‘Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.’”

  Lester held up his hand. “The sheriff didn’t come here for us to preach at him. We all know how you feel about the Amish ways, Willard. If you and my brother had your way, we wouldn’t interact at all with the English.”

  A muscle ticked in Willard’s jaw. “The outside world is an evil place. We must protect our ways.”

  “We are both conservative and practical,” Lester said, purposely not looking at Willard. “We know we can’t completely isolate ourselves. We adapt as the world moves around us.”

  Willard seemed unusually quiet.

  “What do you think, Mr. Fisher?”

  “John and I were friends. But John deviated from the path. He lost his way.” Willard shook his head in obvious disgust, then he clapped his son on the shoulder. “Unless you need anything else from us, we have chores to do.” He turned to Lester. “Let us know how we can help your family rebuild here.”

  Willard and Samuel climbed into their wagon and left.

  “Mr. Lapp, you and your family need to be cautious until we take your brother into custody.”

  “I’d feel better if my nieces weren’t staying here. My wife and I could keep them safe at our home now that it’s obvious my brother is never going to be able to care for those girls.”

  “Sarah and Emma have their aunt.” Spencer glanced toward the house. Still no sign of Hannah.

  Shaking his head, Lester pursed his lips. “Those girls need to be in a stable family. With a proper mem and dat.” He lifted his palm to the burned out remains of the barn.
“Sarah could have been killed in that fire.

  “I’m going to take the girls today. They’ve experienced enough tragedy in their short lives. The girls need to be raised in a proper Amish family.” Lester fingered his beard.

  “Perhaps the family can have a meeting and come to some sort of agreement.” Spencer knew Hannah wasn’t going to hand over her nieces.

  “I will not agree to let my nieces stay under Miss Wittmer’s care.” Lester made a sound of disbelief.

  The screen door creaked open, drawing Spencer, Lester and the bishop’s attention. Hannah stepped onto the porch wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Her long brown hair flowed over her shoulders. She strode over to them, a determined look in her eyes.

  “I’m done. I can’t live like this anymore.”

  * * *

  Hannah pushed open the door and stepped onto the porch. As if she had yelled, “Look at me,” all eyes landed on her. But the face she focused on belonged to Sheriff Spencer Maxwell.

  Why did she care so much about what he thought?

  She pushed back her shoulders and a twinge of pain shot down her arm. Dismissing it, she strode across the yard, careful not to twist her ankle on one of the ruts. Her head pounded with each step. She planted her hands on her hips, trying to muster a confidence she didn’t feel. “I’m done. I can’t live like this anymore.”

  She ignored the smug look on Lester’s face and instead focused on the hurt expression on Spencer’s. “Can I talk to you in private?” she asked, trying to quell the tremble in her voice.

  “Where are the girls? Fannie Mae and I will take them home right away.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, Hannah took a calming breath. “The girls are with their grandmother.”

  Lester strode toward the dawdy haus. Hannah ran after him and grabbed his arm. He stopped and looked down at her, then at her offending hand. She let go, but said in no uncertain terms, “Leave the girls, please. Give me a few minutes to talk to Spencer, then I’ll explain everything.”

  Indecisiveness crossed Lester’s face. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move, either.

  Hannah held up her hand. “Give me a minute to talk to Spencer.” She was surprised her words sounded so calm despite her dry mouth, her racing heart.

  Lester cleared his throat. “I’m going to take some measurements.” He turned on his heel and walked toward the barn.

  Hannah was too focused on her decision to register Lester’s comment.

  “Can I talk to you...on the porch?” Without waiting for an answer, Hannah stuffed her hands in her jeans pockets and walked toward the porch and hoped Spencer would follow. The calmness that had settled over her in the middle of the night—when she had made her decision to leave the farm—took flight and was replaced by a million butterflies flitting in her stomach. She hadn’t planned on making the announcement to Lester and Bishop Lapp this soon.

  She reached the porch and grabbed the railing. She lowered herself onto the second step, fearing her knees were going to give out.

  Spencer sat next to her and patted her knee. “What’s going on?”

  Her gaze drifted to the burned-out barn. Willard had come by this morning with Samuel and had taken the animals over to his farm to care for them until her barn was rebuilt. She was sure she could talk Rebecca into keeping them long-term, unless... Her gaze drifted to Lester measuring up the barn.

  Her focus faded. “I’m leaving the farm.”

  From the look on his face, Spencer seemed to be struggling with something. “You’re going to let Fannie Mae and Lester raise the girls?”

  Horror shot through her. “Oh, no. Absolutely not. I promised my sister I’d make sure they were taken care of. It was only after the fire that I realized I could take care of the girls much better if I...if I was living on my own terms.”

  “You’ve thought this through.”

  Hannah bowed her head and threaded her fingers through her hair. Had she thought this through? Or had she made a knee-jerk reaction to a near-death experience?

  “Maybe it’s for the best.” Spencer gave her a boost of confidence.

  “You’re probably the only one who will agree.”

  Spencer shifted to look at her. Something in his expression made her blood pressure spike. “What is it?”

  Spencer told her what Samuel had witnessed right before the fire. Hannah muttered, “I can’t believe it...”

  “I’ve notified dispatch. All patrols will keep an eye out for John.”

  Hannah pushed to her feet and swiped a hand across the seat of her pants. “Is that apartment in your building still available?”

  “I’ll call Mrs. Greene, my landlady.”

  “Thank you.” She wrapped her hand around the railing. “I have to talk to my mother and the girls now.”

  Would she be able to talk her mother into moving with her?

  Lester and Fannie Mae came to mind. If her mother wouldn’t leave her residence, maybe she could get Lester to move into his brother’s house. They could come to some agreement. They’d be close if her mother needed anything. And Hannah would still be in Apple Creek. They might treat her like an outsider, but there was no reason she had to be shunned.

  Unease tickled the far reaches of her mind. Fannie Mae and Lester had always wanted the land to farm, didn’t they? And Hannah was about to give them exactly what they wanted.

  NINE

  Instead of dragging the girls out of the only home they’ve ever known the exact day Hannah made her announcement, she decided to ease the girls into the transition. Now, a few days after she dropped the bomb in typical Hannah fashion—if she were to take Lester’s mumblings to heart—she was still living in her sister’s home. But not for long.

  Hannah glanced out the window. She caught the tail end of a horse and buggy as it trotted down the street. She had a few more things she wanted to clean and tidy before Spencer arrived to drive them into town. His landlady, Mrs. Greene, was more than willing to rent the fully furnished apartment on a month-to-month basis.

  Upstairs, Hannah found Emma stuffing her faceless doll into a suitcase Spencer had dropped off. Sarah sat stone-faced on the bed with her arms crossed over her middle. Hannah suspected she’d have to pack a few things for the older child.

  Emma glanced up and smiled. “Do you think we could get one of those pretty dolls you mentioned? I’d like the dolly Mem made for me to have a friend.”

  “We’ll have to buy a lot of things at first. Once we get settled, we can look into another doll.” Thankfully, her car sold so she’d have a little extra money, but she’d have to be careful until she found a job. The apartment was located in the center of town, so she should be able to walk for necessities.

  “Dolls are stupid.” Sarah’s harsh words snapped Hannah out of her musings.

  “Sarah!” Hannah said, unable to keep the shock from her voice. Lord, give me patience, Hannah had prayed more than once.

  She opened her mouth to offer some encouraging advice to her sullen preteen when she heard the door creak downstairs. She held up a finger. “Pack your things. We’re moving to the apartment this afternoon. I don’t want to keep Sheriff Maxwell waiting.”

  Sarah huffed.

  “I know this is difficult, but things will get better. I promise.” Hannah hustled down the stairs. She came up short in the kitchen when she found her mother sitting at the kitchen table. “Mem.” She immediately ran a hand down her T-shirt and jeans.

  “You’re leaving today?” Her mother’s voice had a faraway quality.

  “I’ve delayed long enough.” She pulled out the chair and sat across from her mother, guilt pinging her insides. “I’m worried about you out here.”

  Her mother waved a shaky hand in dismissal. “Yah, well. We’ve been over that. I must live in the Amish communi
ty.”

  Hannah had tried every argument to convince her mother to live with them in the apartment. But her mother was unwilling to walk away from her Amish faith, and that’s what she was convinced she’d be doing if she left her home.

  Hannah was deeply frustrated, sad, but she understood. Her mother was a humble Amish woman.

  “Well...Rebecca’s nearby if you need anything. And soon Lester and Fannie will be living in Ruthie’s house.”

  The lines deepened around her mother’s mouth. “I suppose it will be gut to have someone farming the land again.”

  “I’ll work with a lawyer to make sure Lester pays you a fair price for the land.”

  “Gott will see me through.”

  “I’ll only be a few miles away.” The words did nothing to ease the guilt weighing heavily on her.

  “You’ll be further away in your heart.” Her mother’s gaze was unwavering.

  “I want you to see your granddaughters as much as possible. I hope we can do that.”

  Her mother studied the table. She ran her gnarled hand along its edge. “It seems like only yesterday I was feeding you and your sister at this table.”

  Her mother drew in a deep breath, filling her lungs. Hannah stopped and watched her mother, a million conflicting emotions tugging at her heart. “Mem, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. I tried...” Her words rang hollow. How hard had she tried? She had only been here for a couple weeks.

  But the fire. The fire had cemented her decision. A decision she had struggled with from the minute she slipped on her sister’s black Amish dress and tried to pick up Ruthie’s life where she had left off.

  She couldn’t do it. She had to live her life as best she could given she now had two little girls who were counting on her.

  Her mother reached out and pulled her hand into hers, something very uncharacteristic for her mother. “You were never happy here.”

  Time seemed to slow around them. “Mem...”

  Her mother shook her head. “Your father was hard on you. Harder than he ever was on my Ruthie...”