A Plain Disappearance (13 page)

Timothy gave me a quizzical look.

I smiled brightly. “Danny made your mom’s bread pudding sound so good that I think I’m eager to try some too.”

Timothy’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the churchyard. When he spotted Hannah and Justin, a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, it’s time to go,” he said, giving me a knowing smile.

A blush crept up my neck. Maybe Timothy knew me too well.

Outside of the Troyers’ barn, the fields were a blanket of sparkling white. Mercifully, the snow had started and stopped that morning.

Becky fingered her long blonde braid. “I hope we don’t stay long.”

“You don’t want to upset your parents by running off the first chance you get, do you?”

She dropped the braid. “I guess not. It would be a whole lot easier if they would just come to our Christmas party and we could see them there.” She held up a mittened hand. “Before you say anything, I know why they can’t come . . .”

I winked at her. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Thomas flew out of the barn, his arms and legs pumping as he ran. He catapulted his body into his big brother’s arms, and Timothy stumbled back, trying to regain his balance. “How do you think I did yesterday at the Christmas program?” Thomas asked excitedly.

“Do you want to know what we thought before or after the bishop’s lamb got loose?” Becky asked.

Thomas frowned. “That wasn’t my fault. The lambs got scared. Teacher told me that they must have had a case of stage fright.”

Danny snorted. “Sheep with stage fright.”

“It is no matter,” Thomas said. “Teacher said that I did a
gut
job and everyone would remember my performance.”

“She’s right about that.” I ruffled his blond bowl-cut hair. “You did an excellent job, Thomas. I can tell you can keep a cool head under pressure just like your big brother here.” I let my hand fall to my side. “Where’s your hat? It’s freezing out here.”

He wiggled out of Timothy’s arms, rolling his eyes. “You sound like
Mamm
.”

Danny removed a huge basket from the back of his SUV. “Becky, what did you put in here? Cinder blocks?”

“Stop complaining, Danny, you’re the one who asked for my monkey bread.”

His eyes lit up. “Monkey bread? Really?” He lifted the corner of the basket’s lid and peeked inside.

Becky slapped his hand away. “Consider it your Christmas present.”

He licked his lips. “I will.”

Even though she had spent days making food for the Christmas party we’d be hosting at the Quills’ house, she still made five or six—I lost count—dishes to bring to her mother’s table for dinner.

We all helped Becky carry her creations and our gifts inside. As I removed my gifts from Timothy’s truck, I wondered if the family would like them. I bought simple gifts and wrapped them in plain brown paper. I tucked the gifts under my arm and picked up one of Becky’s casserole dishes. If her dream of being an art teacher didn’t pan out, she could always be a chef. She had so many talents that the possibilities for Becky’s future were limitless. What
was
difficult was making her realize she had those talents, and that she was smart enough to pass the GRE with flying colors and be accepted into any higher education program.

Mrs. Troyer pursed her lips into a thin line. “Becky, do you think I will not feed you when you come home? I said you didn’t need to bring anything today.”

“I know, but I’ve tried out some new recipes. You will like them, I promise. I brought jambalaya.”

“That sounds like a horse’s name,” Mrs. Troyer said.

Becky removed her pink stocking cap. “No. It’s food, and it is wonderful. It has just enough of a spicy kick.”

“Hm,” Grandfather Zook said from his seat at the head of the kitchen table. “I didn’t like those burritos you made a few weeks ago.”

“It’s a different kind of spice,” she told him.

Timothy opened the door and Mabel slipped inside.

Mrs. Troyer pointed at the dog. “Timothy, you know what I think about animals in the house.”

Thomas pulled on his mother’s apron. “But
Mamm
, it’s Christmas. Weren’t animals there the day Jesus was born. I bet there was a dog. What stable doesn’t have a dog?”

I hid a smile. Thomas turned into quite a little actor when he wanted to.

Mrs. Troyer folded her arms. “Because it is Christmas, she can stay, but not in my kitchen. Take her to the living room. If she doesn’t behave herself, she’s out.” She shook her finger at her youngest son. “This won’t happen again.”

“Until next Christmas,” Thomas said.

His mother frowned.

“Danki, Mamm.”
Thomas and Mabel shared a grin and the two slunk off to the living room.

As Grandfather Zook and Becky compared the merits of Mexican and Cajun cuisines, I carried the gifts into the living room. Naomi followed me.

Mabel lay in front of the fireplace as if she’d been there every day of her life.

Naomi pulled on my sleeve. “What are those?”

“What do they look like?” I teased.

Her eyes sparkled. “Gifts. Are any for me?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

With one finger Thomas pulled on the edge of my brown paper sack to peer inside. “Should we open them now?”

Mr. Troyer walked to the base of the stairs, which led to the second floor. “We will open gifts in a few minutes, Thomas. Do not pester Chloe.”

“I’m not pestering her.” He turned his soulful blue eyes up at me. “Am I?”

I tweaked his ear. “Maybe a little.”

Mr. Troyer sat in his easy chair. “The sooner everyone comes into the living room, the sooner you will be able to open your gift.”

Thomas flew into the kitchen. “
Daed
says that we need to open gifts now.”

Mr. Troyer shook his head at his youngest son.

Becky guided Grandfather Zook into his rocking chair by the fireplace. One by one the rest of the Troyer family and Danny found places to sit in the living room. Ruth sat on the first step of the stairway, which was as far away as she could be from the rest of the family without leaving the room.

“Ruth, come sit by me,” Grandfather Zook said.

The thirteen-year-old frowned.

“You won’t sit by your
grossdaddi
on Christmas?”

Mr. Troyer’s eyes narrowed. Ruth noticed her father’s expression too and stood up and moved across the room to sit at her grandfather’s feet.

I knew that Ruth was preoccupied by Katie and Anna. Murder was a heavy subject to occupy such a young girl’s thoughts.

I stood in the middle of the room, unsure where I could place my gifts. As if Becky understood my dilemma, she took the gifts from my arms and set them on the oak chest that the Troyers used as a coffee table.

“I’m the oldest, so I will start,” Grandfather Zook said and pointed at a rectangular-shaped package sitting beside Mabel near the fireplace. “Ruth, give that one to Chloe, and I see a few packages there, too, for your brothers and sisters, and maybe even Danny.” His eyes twinkled.

Danny chuckled. “You got me a gift too, Grandfather Zook?”

“Just this once,” the older man said with a laugh.

Ruth set the gift in my lap, as Grandfather Zook spoke, “Chloe, that is from not just me, but the whole family.”

I adjusted the package on my lap. “It’s so heavy. I have no idea what it can be.”

Grandfather Zook pulled on his beard with a twinkle in his eyes. “Open it and find out.” He glanced about the room. “All you
kinner
open your gifts.”

The sound of tearing paper floated into the air. Naomi held up a small wooden chair that was the perfect size for her favorite doll, and Thomas laughed with delight at his wooden train.

Becky ran her hand over the rosette carved into the wooden handle of the hairbrush she received. She looked up. “Chloe, you haven’t opened your gift yet.”

Carefully, I removed the brown paper to find a jewelry box the size of a breadbox in my lap. An intricate Amish farm scene complete with horse and buggy was carved into the jewelry box’s lid. “Thank you,” I said. My hands trembled as I lifted the lid and touched the cranberry velvet-lined compartments.

Grandfather Zook pulled on the end of his white beard. “I think that will work for any jewelry you might have received this Christmas.”

Mr. Troyer’s head whipped in his father-in-law’s direction at this comment.

Did Grandfather Zook know about Timothy’s gift to me? “I love it,” I said. “It’s perfect. Did you make it, Grandfather Zook?”

He smiled. “
Ya
. It makes me happy that you like it.”

“I do.” I knew the perfect place to put it on the dresser in my bedroom. I might have to move a few of the Quills’ daughter’s dolls to make the space. “I have gifts for each of you too.”

Mrs. Troyer frowned. “Chloe, you needn’t give any gifts to the adults.”

I blushed. “I know, but you’ve all been so kind to me, that I wanted to.” Typically, the Amish only gave gifts to the children for Christmas, but since it was my first holiday with the family, I wanted to give something small to everyone, even the adults. I bit my lip, hoping that I wouldn’t offend Timothy’s father. I picked up my brown sack and began handing out packages. When I finished, I said, “Go ahead and open them.”

More ripping sounds echoed through the Troyers’ living room.

I watched each person open his or her gift: a metal trivet for Mrs. Troyer, a new pair of pliers for Mr. Troyer, and for Grandfather Zook, a beard comb.

The oldest member of the family examined the comb. “Oh my, I will have the best whiskers in the county now. That’s for certain.” He ran it through his cotton-white beard, which hung two inches below his chin. It had been much longer until a few weeks ago when Grandfather Zook was attacked. The attacker had cut off his beard, which was a deep insult to an Amish man.

Naomi squealed with glee when she found the purple dress for her beloved doll, and Thomas hugged the baseball to his chest like it was a teddy bear. Ruth folded the embroidered handkerchief I’d given her and tucked it into her apron pocket.

Thomas practiced holding the baseball like a pitcher would. “Where is Timothy’s gift, Chloe?”

Timothy laughed. “Chloe already gave it to me. It was too heavy to bring here today.”

Thomas’s brow knit together. “Too heavy? What was it?”

“A ratchet set,” Timothy said.

Mr. Troyer shot his wife a worried look. “That is an expensive gift.”

It was expensive, but Timothy’s reaction had been worth every penny.

“Christmas is not about how much money you spend.” Mr. Troyer’s voice was firm.

“
Daed
,” Timothy said, letting the name hang in the air.

Time to change the subject. I handed Grandfather Zook a second gift.

His brow shot up. “What could possibly be better than that comb?”

I smiled, tickled that he liked the comb so much. It had taken me days to decide what to buy him. “This one is for Sparky.”

He opened the brown paper sack, peeked inside, and removed one of the extra large carrots from the bag. “Sparky will love them. We should give him one.”

Ruth popped up from her place on the floor. “I’ll do it.”

Her parents shared a glance.

Ruth saw their look, too. “I can check on Gertie and her new calf, too. The calf had a cough earlier today.”

“
Ya
,
” Mr. Troyer said, “She did. Gertie’s calf was a surprise to come this time of year. We must do our best to keep her healthy and warm. Gertie, too. She’s one of my best milkers.”

Ruth removed her bonnet and cloak from the peg on the wall. “I will return quickly.”

Naomi brought her doll to me and held out the new dress.

“She wants to wear her new outfit?” I asked.

The four-year-old nodded.

I helped Naomi change the doll’s clothes while all the time watching the door leading into the kitchen. That was the way Ruth had gone. I slid Naomi from my lap and stood. “I think I want to tell Sparky Merry Christmas myself.” Timothy watched me as I slipped into the kitchen. To my relief, he didn’t follow me.

I grabbed my coat from the mudroom and slipped into my snow boots. Through the glass door, I saw the breeze kick up snow in a swirling wave. Large snowdrifts gathered around the outbuildings and towering trees throughout the farm.

The path to the Troyers’ barn, however, was hard packed with uneven snow. Despite the sensible boots that Becky insisted I buy for my first winter in the country, I had to be careful. The barn’s side door was open a crack. I stepped inside and let my eyes adjust to the dim light. There were no electric fixtures in the Troyers’ barn, and Ruth hadn’t lit one of the gas lamps. The only light came from the sun’s rays streaming in from the high windows. The angles of the light created bright spots and shadows throughout the hollow building.

Ruth stood in front of Sparky’s stall. Each of the Troyers’ horses had a stall to themselves near Grandfather Zook’s workshop. The family’s livelihood, the dairy cows, huddled at the far end of the barn about a half-basketball court away in one large pen. They mooed and exhaled heat from their nostrils into the frigid air. The large back entrance of the barn was open, allowing the cows to move in and out to the pasture as they wished. However, it looked like most of them decided to stay inside. A stall next to Sparky held a mother cow, Gertie, and her new calf. Gertie rolled a brown, round eye at me as I passed, and I took it as a warning to leave her calf alone.

Sparky folded the last of the carrot into his mouth and nuzzled Ruth’s palm.

I rubbed his forehead. “Merry Christmas, Sparky.”

The horse’s ears flicked in my direction. I liked to think that he recognized my voice.

Ruth crossed the floor and perched on a hay bale across from Sparky’s stall. “I expected you to come out here. You want to talk to me, don’t you?”

“Naw, I wanted to wish Sparky a Merry Christmas.”

She flushed. “Oh.”

I laughed and sat next to her on the hay bale. “I’m only teasing you, Ruth. I do want to wish Sparky Merry Christmas, but I want to talk you about Anna. It was brave of her to come to the Christmas program yesterday.”