Return to Grace

Seth wrapped the reins around a low tree limb and climbed down from the buggy. He saw someone glance out at him from behind a dark curtain in the front window, the one with the large, painted feather that looked identical to the one stuck in Hannah’s window. He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake to try to look into this on his own. But he wanted to help Linc Armstrong solve the shootings schnell—that is, fast—so he’d get out of here and leave the Amish—and Hannah—alone.

Ray-Lynn was relieved that Jack came in for breakfast with the FBI guy because then she didn’t have to spend time with the sheriff. Until he came to her to explain what was really going on between him and his ex-wife, she didn’t trust herself not to just bawl like a baby. Still, his eyes sought her as she bustled about the restaurant doing her best to keep busy away from the men’s booth. But when she could, with a swift, sideways glance, she watched him, too. At least Lily Freeman had not shown her face here.

Elaine Carson, who owned the Rod ‘n’ Gun store, came in, wearing her usual black jeans and leather jacket. The woman rode a motorcycle at times—noisy, darn thing—but Ray-Lynn could see her bright red pickup with the American eagle and stars-and-stripes flag decals parked out in front. Unlike most women, she sat at the counter.

“Hi, Ray-Lynn,” Elaine called out. “Got some pancakes and sausage on the griddle for a hardworking woman?”

“I recognize one when I see one. Right away.”

“Any more news about the shootings? Kinda miss that newspaper, despite who ran it. Oh, I see the powers-that-be over there, so I’ll ask them.”

Taking her freshly poured coffee with her, Elaine strode over to Jack’s booth. She was tall and angular with straight, short brown hair and no makeup. Ray-Lynn took the opportunity to seat an English couple in the next booth, but she didn’t have to strain to hear since Elaine seemed to have one level of volume, and that was loud. Ray-Lynn wondered if she was hard of hearing from her army days or working the shooting range, or if she’d never gotten over the decibel level for giving orders.

“Gentlemen—officers of the law,” she addressed the two men. “Sorry my customer list was a mile long, but you gotta understand the culture around here. I’m sure the sheriff has told you, Agent Armstrong. I mean, everyone hunts, Amish and English alike, right, Sheriff? Even kids. 22-caliber for small game like squirrels and coyotes, 12-gauge shotguns for deer, then the high-speed weapons, you name it.”

“We understand,” Linc Armstrong told her. “Just keep your ear to the ground, then, okay?”

“And my mouth closed, you mean,” she said and, with her balled fist, lightly hit his shoulder. He was dressed in a cargo camouflage outfit today. “But I will keep an eye out. They didn’t call me Eagle Eye in the old days for nothing. And, you know, Annie Oakley was an Ohioan, though I’m actually related to Kit Carson. Take care, then,” she concluded, and went back to her place at the counter.

Ray-Lynn quit her chitchat with the new couple, whom she suspected were outsiders here just to gawk or newspeople on the sly, and headed back to the cash register, only to have her cell phone play “Tara’s Theme” from Gone with the Wind. She answered it, stuck one finger in her other ear to cut the restaurant buzz and tried to not look at Jack when he glanced at her. Darn it, let him think it was some other man calling her.

“Ray-Lynn, it’s Sarah Kauffman, calling from Wooster. I’d love to see Hannah, but I know better than to try. How’s she doing?”

“Good, as far as I hear—mending physically, at least. Not sure about the rest of her.”

“I can imagine it’s hard for her to face what happened and to be home. I thought we’d have time to stop to see you, but we’re here looking for a house to buy or rent.”

“You’re moving to Wooster?”

“Nate and I are going to be married a week from Saturday, on the thirteenth at 2:00 p.m. It will be a small wedding in a chapel we just booked here in Wooster with a restaurant reception after. The northeast supervisor for the State Marshal’s Arson Investigation team has lung cancer, and Nate’s going to take his place earlier than we thought. We don’t want to be separated and—thanks to you—I can move my painting studio anywhere.”

“I’m looking at your latest and my favorite, the one of the kids playing eck ball back of the little schoolhouse. Got it hung right on the wall where folks come in, and I can tell your people stop and admire it, painted faces and all.”

“Good to hear. Maybe someday …” she said, but she choked up and her voice broke before she cleared her throat. “Listen, Ray-Lynn, I’m hoping you can take a message to Hannah from me, since no way I can get to see her now, and I’m hoping, once we move, you could come and bring her—maybe even for the wedding. I know Ella and my family won’t come.”

“Of course, I could bring whoever wants to attend! I’m so happy for both of you. Do you—do you want your family to know? I mean, word will get around …”

“Since I was Hannah’s link to her family when she was living away, I’m praying she’ll do the same for me. So here are the directions to the chapel for you, and what I want my family to know. I hope Hannah can tell them.”

Ray-Lynn reached for a pad and pen to take notes. As she did, she saw that Jack was ignoring Agent Armstrong and frowning at her. Maybe, she thought, that was because she’d been smiling at the good news over the phone, when he didn’t expect happiness from her right now. She forced a broad smile and nodded as if she’d been asked something delightful, then hunkered down to pay attention to Sarah.

“So,” John Arrowroot said as he opened his front door before Seth could knock, “the graveyard hero. To what do I owe this honor?”

“Not a hero in my mind, but I was glad I happened by, maybe scared the shooter off. I’m surprised you know who I am, since I’ve kept my face out of the news coverage.”

“I know who a lot of you are in the so-called Home Valley. My ancestors once called this land Eri’e Rique, ‘at the place of the panther.’ And you just happened by my remote location today, because …?”

“I recalled your roof could use reshingling, and I’m between big projects. Jobs are scarcer than usual for timber framers right now.”

“Ah, yes, the barn builder, the leader of the barn raisings.” The man’s taut mouth lifted in a little smirk. This close up, Seth saw his black hair, scraped back on his skull in a tight ponytail, was threaded with silver that matched his silver ring and a sort of eagle charm on a leather thong around his neck. He would guess the man’s age at sixty or sixty-five. He wore a white dress shirt with jeans, a wide, studded leather belt and Western leather-tooled boots. “Now, that would be different,” Arrowroot went on, “to have just one Amish man hanging over my head instead of all of you. I do get leaks in bad storms.”

“If you have a ladder, I can go up, measure and give you an estimate,” Seth said, trying to keep calm at the man’s subtle digs and goading tone. “I left my ladder where I’ve been working. You ever climb a ladder yourself to look at the roof’s condition?”

“Actually, I don’t like heights. You sure,” he said as he finally stepped outside, “you’re not here to spy on me?”

The man was clever, but Seth had known that. But clever enough to kill someone and escape without leaving a clue, at least at the scene of the crime?

“I intend to fix the roof, not drill holes in it and look through,” Seth said.

Arrowroot almost smiled. “I have no secrets, anyway. I’ve made it clear what my goals are.” He led Seth to the detached, single-car garage and lifted the door himself, though many moderns had a button that did that. “So, how did a man as young as you—what, mid-twenties?—get to be a master builder around here?”

“From the age of fourteen I worked with my mother’s father, Gideon Raber, who taught me about timber framing. He was also in charge of barn raisings, so I had a nine-year apprenticeship with him before he died. It ended up I knew more than anyone else who’d trained with him. But getting back to your obvious goals, why not just file a lawsuit, since you’re a lawyer?”

“The state government’s declined to meet with me so that I can pursue my land claims and the feds don’t recognize Indian tribes or lands in Ohio, so my lawyer’s brain says to go about this another way.”

Seth couldn’t resist saying, even as he hefted the ladder from the garage—only a tall stepladder, not an extension one, “You mean like do something dramatic to draw attention to your cause?”

“In a way. You think you can reach the roof with that?”

“Over on the slant of hill, yes. What do you mean, ‘in a way’?”

“You’ve heard of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell,’ haven’t you? Let’s just stick to roofing. I appreciate your having the guts to come up here, but if you have the nerve to run into a graveyard where people have been shot, guess this is a piece of cake. You know, most of your people are polite but they treat me like a pariah, or at least a ghost they don’t even see.”

“My people love and need their land,” Seth said, noting numerous photos of what might be aerial shots of this area tacked to the back wall of the garage near a cluttered workbench. He wondered if there was a shot of the graveyard there, or the woodlot above it. If he could get a job here, he’d have time to check. So maybe the Lord had inspired him to come here for more than one reason.

Seth positioned the ladder, then began to climb. He didn’t know what a pariah was and he didn’t believe in ghosts. But he was starting to think John Arrowroot had a powerful motive, at any cost to himself or others, to shake things up by bringing in a lot of media coverage here. Linc had asked if maybe the Troyers, who lived on land abutting the hill above the graveyard, would take potshots at weird strangers to bring curious tourists in for their grain mill tours. Seth thought that was a crazy theory, but he didn’t trust John Arrowroot as far as he could throw his entire roof.

After the noon meal, Hannah went out in the new barn to familiarize herself with it. She’d been horrified that the barn of her childhood had burned, and she’d watched from a distance as the men raised this one, with Seth astride the very peak of it.

She stopped to pat her onetime horse Nettie’s muzzle and fuss over her. When she’d left, Naomi had inherited this horse and buggy. Now she realized she’d missed the sorrel mare with three white feet, missed the slower pace of riding in a buggy, when one had time to enjoy the passing scenery which didn’t blur by just like life could do.

Every now and then, Hannah peeked out the door or a window at Seth working hard on the roof. He was almost finished and then wouldn’t be around. Would he still leave little Marlena here during the day? Despite the fact she was the symbol of all she’d lost with Seth, the tot was adorable.

She heard a car and glanced out, wondering if Linc could be back. But Ray-Lynn Logan got out of a van and started for the house. Hannah recognized her not only by her distinctive vehicle but by her red hair. She was a real pretty woman with snappy brown eyes and a personality to match. Her Southern drawl was easy and comforting, like she could lull you into trusting anything she said.

“Ray-Lynn!” Hannah called and waved, ignoring the fact Seth stopped his work to peer down at them. “I just wanted to thank you for the oatmeal chocolate chip whoopie pies you sent to the hospital with the sheriff!”

Ray-Lynn turned away from the house and walked toward the barn with another bakery box in her hand. “Got more for y’all,” she said in her soft, melodic way, “but got to admit it’s a bit of a cover-up. Here,” she said, putting the box down on the family sled Daad had been repairing, then fumbling in her purse. “I wrote the information down in case I didn’t get to talk to you alone. Sarah’s going to marry Nate a week from Saturday in Wooster, and I’ll take you there for the service and reception if you want to go. I know how much it would mean to her—to you, too, I bet.”

“Oh!” was all Hannah could manage at first as she took the note from Ray-Lynn and held it tightly. Weddings! Weddings everywhere, English and Amish. And poor Ray-Lynn looked like she wanted to cry, as well.

“I’d love to be there for her,” Hannah said. “Thanks for this, Ray-Lynn. I’m sorry, I’ve decided not to take the job the sheriff said you offered me. I just don’t want to face so many people right now, be in such a public place, however warm and friendly your restaurant is. I think I’m going to take a part-time housekeeper job at Mrs. Stutzman’s B and B.”

Ray-Lynn sank onto a hay bale and pulled Hannah down beside her. “My motto is, when you’re all shook about the way things are going—with life, with losses, with love—just eat,” she said. She reached for the box she’d just given Hannah, opened it up and pulled out two whoopie pies. She gave one to Hannah. Ray-Lynn took a big bite of hers, then talked with her mouth half-full.

“Do me a big favor, Hannah. Keep an eye on one Lily Freeman at the B and B. See what she’s like, what she really wants around here.”

Hannah swallowed her mouthful of the cookie and wiped frosting off the side of her mouth. “I heard about her. Okay—for Sarah’s other best friend, who believed in her art and helped her follow her heart, I will.”

“And I’ll let you know if I hear anything at the restaurant about the shootings—” she took another big bite “—for you to tell the sheriff, because I’m not speaking to him.”

“Oh. Right. We can be allies in this.”

Ray-Lynn tapped the rest of her whoopie pie to Hannah’s as if they were clinking goblets or shaking hands. “I swear, however different our lives, we women have to stick together,” Ray-Lynn said, blinking back tears. “As for men, you can’t live with them, can’t live without them, whether they’re the Ashley Wilkes or the Rhett Butlers of the world.”

“The who?”

“Have I got a movie to share with you. You drop by sometime, since the B and B’s not far from my house. Listen, Hannah, I don’t mean to dump Seth Lantz and Jack Freeman in the same pot, but ding-dang, I think you and I have a lot in common.”

She pointed at the box of whoopie pies between them. “So, you want to split another one of these?”

7

AFTER RAY-LYNN LEFT, HANNAH, FEELING ON a sugar-and-chocolate high from the whoopie pies, climbed the ladder to the loft, one-handed. She sat on a bale of straw by the hay mow window to read the information Ray-Lynn had written down about Sarah’s wedding and reception.

Sarah and Nate were moving to Wooster! It was not far away, though in the next county. Hannah was soon to begin twice-a-week physical therapy on her wrist in Wooster, near the hospital. Yes, she needed that job at Amanda Stutzman’s B and B so she could hire what her people called taxi service, someone who would drive her not only to get physical therapy but the mental therapy of visiting Sarah.

Hannah shifted her position, looked out and realized, from this vantage point, she was almost as high as Seth. He stood now at the top of his extension ladder, evidently surveying his work on the roof. It all looked neatly done to her—and finished. He’d told the family at noon meal he had been hired to reroof John Arrowroot’s house and hoped to be able to talk some sense into him, but Hannah, maybe her daad, too, knew Seth intended more than that. She resisted the temptation to call to him, as if inviting him to join her here. If he still had memories of the way they used to kiss and hug in the old barn loft …

As he climbed down his ladder and went in the back door of their house, she heaved a huge sigh. Marlena’s delighted squeals sounded clear up here before the storm door closed behind him.

Hannah folded the note and stuck it in the top layer of her wrist bandage, then stood and peered out the four-sided, louvered cupola, which kept the barn cool in the summer and chilly right now. Of course, the vistas were much broader than the scenes she’d admired from below yesterday. She could see clear to the pond and beyond to the brow of the graveyard hill. She’d meant to ask Seth why the edge of the sod over Lena’s grave was so unkempt, but she was afraid it was something Linc did and she didn’t want the two men to argue. She couldn’t tell if the police tape had been removed or not because the fence itself looked as tiny as toothpicks from here.

She scanned a bit farther. The corn maze her male goth friends had been intrigued by that fateful night was partly visible over the next slant of the road. Several years ago, her father, as bishop, and the church elders had asked that its original name, Amish Corn Maze, be changed. It was run by two non-Amish brothers, George and Clint Meyers—red necks, Ray-Lynn had called them. She’d had the sheriff haul them out of her restaurant when they got into a fight with another patron a couple of years ago.

The Meyerses had refused to call their maze something else at first but had eventually renamed it Amish Country Corn Maze. Most English in the area admired and worked well with their Amish neighbors, but the maze owners still held a grudge over that. What had really annoyed the brothers was that the Amish boycotted the maze when they filled it with Halloween horror tableaus—witches, goblins, vampires, skeletons and fake bloody, dead bodies—so near the cemetery.

Hannah was surprised the maze still stood this late in the fall. Usually, they cut it down after harvest and Halloween, because the stalks were pretty ragged by then, and in colder weather, interest waned and profits dropped. A puzzle of paths, like life, her daad had called it once. Suddenly, she recalled something else that hit her like a fist.

She’d never mentioned to Linc or anyone else that the goths had made a brief maze visit. She’d been so focused on what happened at the cemetery and after.

She began to pace, ducking her head when the roof slanted inward. Could the Meyers brothers have heard the commotion Kevin and Mike made as they tore through the maze long after it closed? The Meyers house was just behind the maze. Could the brothers have been angry and grabbed a rifle and climbed that hill when her friends moved on to the cemetery? She remembered how upset she’d been when Linc had first suggested that someone might have driven a buggy or walked to the site to shoot at them, but it was just down the road from where the brothers lived.

She squinted through the louvers at the distant maze again. She could imagine its angular twists and turns and dead ends. It was a good thing she remembered the cell phone number Linc had told her to call if she ever thought of anything else, because she was going to walk to the phone shanty down the road and call him right away. She would insist he return her cell phone, too. He’d said he wanted to have it checked for any strange or suspicious calls she might have received or even background noise it might have picked up during her 9-1-1 call.

By the time Hannah carefully climbed down the ladder and went outside, her concern about Linc and Seth arguing had come home to roost. At least she wouldn’t have to phone Linc, because here he was, jawing at Seth just outside the back door of the Esh farmhouse.

“You’re withholding evidence with tricks like that!” Linc accused, pointing at Seth.

Hannah stopped on the other side of his car. She didn’t want to get in the middle of this, but they were talking loudly enough that she wasn’t exactly eavesdropping. It didn’t take long for her to figure out what the topic was.

“So what if I got a job reroofing at Arrowroot’s? It’s what I do between big projects. And if I learn something or get something out of him, fine.”

“But why didn’t you—or the bishop or Hannah—tell me about this guy wanting the Amish out of here? The sheriff thought of it and went to see him and guess what—Seth Lantz had already come calling. And now you’re saying that cemetery was sacred to his people? Yeah, you’re obstructing an official murder investigation.”

“It’s not evidence yet, just facts. It’s enough that the sheriff tipped him off he’s being watched. And he’s hardly going to admit anything if you storm over there to interview him.”

“The FBI has assisted western tribes with tracking looted items and ancestors’ bones from cemeteries in our art theft program, so I could have used that to get him talking, built a bridge. But now that you’ve horned in, you’re just going to have to report to me—and don’t screw it up!”

“You mean like you did when you didn’t closely check the exterior of Hannah’s window? I did and found an eagle feather stuck half under the sill,” Seth told him, not giving ground. Neither man had retreated but stood just a few feet apart. “And I knew that was Arrowroot’s symbol, his talisman.”

“And, once again, didn’t tell me. But if he’s the shooter, why would he want to plant that to draw attention to himself?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. He hardly made his cause a secret lately. The thing is, you could have looked up there, but you didn’t,” Seth repeated, pointing up toward Hannah’s window. His voice was strong, like Linc’s, getting louder. Although the Amish were soft-spoken, he was more than holding his own.

“And here’s what really scares me,” Seth added, finally lowering his voice so she could barely hear him. “Did Arrowroot, or whoever wanted to make it look like he’d been outside Hannah’s window, only want to leave that feather? Or did he really want inside that window to hurt her but couldn’t raise it? And how did he know which was her window?”

“All right, all right, I’m impressed with your thinking it all through,” Linc said, holding up both hands as if he were under arrest. “I’ve considered she might still be a target, too, but see no evidence of that so far, and this is my investigation. Listen. Anything fishy you find out from Arrowroot, you let me know. You got that?”

“He already asked me if I was there to spy.”

For some reason, suddenly, as if he’d sensed that she was spying, Seth glanced over at her and Linc turned his head.

“Evidently, you heard us,” Linc said, walking closer. “Are you in on this?”

“He showed me the feather.”

“Well, confession time all around. I thought you said you’d call me if anything else came up, Hannah.”

“Maybe now you’ll give me my cell phone back. I was just about to call you, but not about John Arrowroot. I thought of something else that probably doesn’t mean anything, just a coincidence, but—”

“There are no coincidences in something like this,” he said, taking her arm and turning her away from Seth. “Get in the car and tell me,” he told her, and opened his front passenger’s side door to practically push her in.

As Linc stalked around the front of the car, got in and slammed the driver’s side door, Hannah was afraid to look at Seth. But he just stalked back into the house and that door closed, too.

Just when Ray-Lynn was starting to think that at least Lillian Freeman had a shred of decency not to come into the restaurant, she found the woman standing in the driveway of her house when she pulled in after closing up that evening. In the dark, she actually could have hit the woman with her van. God forgive her, she was tempted.

“What are you doing here?” Ray-Lynn asked, rolling down her window.

“I’m at a disadvantage, since you evidently recognize me,” Lillian countered. “I just wanted to say a friendly hello. I mean, no bad feelings, okay?”

Although her blond hair was perfectly styled and her makeup intact, including fake eyelashes, the woman looked like she was out jogging—running shoes, sharp-looking gray workout pants and matching jacket with some sweat marks across her chest. Ray-Lynn almost wondered if she’d caught her at something, like a prank or even worse. She killed her headlights and motor, then got out to face her unwanted guest.

“No bad feelings,” Ray-Lynn lied as best she could. “No feelings at all.”

“I—I heard you and Jack had—have something going. I mean, he mentioned you.”