A Plain Malice: An Appleseed Creek Mystery (Appleseed Creek Mystery Series Book 4) (18 page)

Chapter Eighteen

I returned Curt’s wave, and he walked over to me, carrying a plastic grocery bag in his right hand.

“You’
re here early,” I said.

“I figured you’d be here because Becky had choir.”

I noted he didn’t say Timothy, but that didn’t
mean
anything. “It’s nice to see a friendly face after a run in with Hannah.”

Curt pulled at the sleeve of his
flannel shirt. The plastic bag swung back and forth as he moved. “She’s a brat.”

I grinned.

Curt shook the bag. “I have something to show you.”

“What is it?”

He laughed. “It’s a surprise. Follow me.” He circled to the back of the building.

I glanced back at the church. Blue sky and cotton cloud
s outlined its white steeple. Members trickled in for the service. It wouldn’t start for another twenty minutes.

“Red, are you coming?”

Behind the church was a small playground for the children. It wasn’t much, just a swing set and a slide, but on such a beautiful day, a half dozen girls and boys ran around whooping with joy. Their mothers and fathers stood a few feet away, supervising and hoping the playtime would wear out the children enough they would be quiet in church.

With all the kids and parents, the only open seat
was a bench swing suspended from a metal frame. Curt headed straight for it and sat. I perched on the other end of the swing, careful not to get too close. “So what’s in the bag?”

He handed it to me. “Open it.”

The plastic crinkled as I pulled out a black T-shirt and unfolded it. A silver dove flying out of the cage was on the front. Under the image it said, “Faith Beyond Bars.”

“It’s pretty. What does it mean?”

Curt licked his lips. “You know I talked to Pastor Chris about making up for my mistakes and doing something good.” He pointed at the T-shirt. “That’s what I came up with. It’s a prison ministry. I read about another on the Internet. Every few weeks, I’ll visit the Knox County Jail, and tell the guys my story and how I changed.” He spoke quickly as if he were afraid he might not say everything he needed to. “I’ve been inside the county jail enough times to know what it’s like. Maybe if someone came in there and talked to me about my life and what it could be, I would have changed my ways a lot sooner. The pastor and a few volunteers from church will go with me. They can tell the guys all the Bible stuff that I’m just learning.”

My mouth fell open. Of all the things Curt could have told me, I never would have guessed this
.

“The church is going to help out
too by donating a small portion of the mission money. It’s a just a hundred dollars, but it will be enough for me to buy snacks for a couple of meetings at the prison. This summer, I’d like to have some type of picnic for a fundraiser. I’m not sure yet.” He yanked on his father’s dog tags. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

I closed my mouth.
“I—I—wow, Curt.”

He flipped the dog tags over and over again with his fingers
. “Maybe it’s a dumb idea.”

“No,” I yelped. “No, it’s not. It’s a wonderful idea.”

He led out a breath. “You don’t think it’s stupid.”

“Never.
I don’t know if I could do such a selfless thing.”

“You could, Red. You could do anything.”

I bit the inside of my cheek.

Curt sat up a little straighter. “Can you help out?”

I shifted my position on the swing to face him dead on. “What do you need me to do?”

His shoulders relaxed.
“I thought since you are so good with computers, maybe you could make a website for us. Pastor said that he would share the link through the church’s website.”

“That’s very easy for me to do. I’m m
e happy to help. I can get started after the bus tour leaves. Until they’re gone, I’m going to be pretty busy.”

“Why?”

“I’m their temporary tour guide and staying with them at the Dutch Inn for the next few days.”

“Do you think that’s safe? One of them might be a killer.”

Even after all this time, it felt strange to have Curt worry about my safety. Our friendship certainly had come a long way.

“Timothy is staying there too.
”

“Oh, he is.”
Something flashed in his eyes. “I don’t think it’s right of Troyer to use you like that.”

“Use me?”

“He’s making you stay there because he wants you to clear his father’s name.”

I scooted away from him.
“Why do you think that?”

“Hannah said so this morning.”

“You spoke to Hannah about me? You said yourself Hannah is a brat. Timothy doesn’t want me on the bus. It was Chief Rose’s idea.”

He balled his hands on the top
on his jean-clad thighs. “That’s even worse. All she cares about is making an arrest.” There was bitterness in his voice.

I refolded the T-shirt. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I worry.”

Part of me wanted to ask him why, but a large part was afraid
he’d tell me. “Is this what you wanted to meet with me about over coffee?”

“Most of it.”
He took a breath. “There’s something else I need to tell you but not today. I need more time.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.
I started to hand the T-shirt back to him.

He shook his head. “No, you keep it.”

“Thank you.” I held it on my lap. “I’m proud of you. This is an amazing idea, and I’m so glad you’ve talked to the pastor about getting the church involved.”

He looked down at his white knuckles.
“You think I can do it?” he whispered.

I touched his arm.
“Of course. You have so much to offer these men and women in trouble.”

He
reached up and covered my hand with his. I felt his gaze on my face, but I didn’t meet his eyes. Delicately as possible, I slid my hand from his grasp and clamped it onto the T-shirt.

A father whistled.
“Kids! Play time is over. Head into church.”

The children squealed and dashed for one more ride down the slide, one more kick on the swing.

I stood. Curt grabbed my wrist. “Thank you.”

I smiled even though I wasn’t sure what he
thanked me for.

Chapter Nineteen

After church, Becky followed Timothy and me back to his truck. I fell back with Becky, and she grabbed my hand. “Can I go with you?”

I eyed her.
“You could read over those applications.”

She frowned. “That’s not very subtle, Chloe.”

I laughed. “I’m just teasing. Of course, you can come with us. You can even ride in the bus today if you like.”

“Where
’s the tour going?” Becky asked.

I removed the agenda from my purse. “It’s a short day
because almost everything is closed. We’re going for a drive through the countryside and then a stop in Utica at an ice cream factory.”

“I love that place,” Becky said. “Sign me up.”

I grinned. “You wouldn’t rather stay at home and read those college applications?”

She gave me a look that would put the most sullen English teenager to shame.

I chuckled.

Her face brightened.
“Maybe I can help with the tour too. I can tell some great stories about what it’s really like to grow up Amish. It will be nice to tell people the truth instead of the stuff they see online or in movies. People either think Amish life is peaceful perfect bliss or a cult.”

W
hat Becky said was true. Even I had thought that once about the Amish life before arriving in Knox County. That preconception changed quickly.

Becky placed her hands on her hips. “It’s neither.
We just choose to live a different way. It’s not perfect. It’s not wrong.”

“This crowd can be tough,” I said thinking of grumpy
Fred and some of the other men. “They may ask you some tough questions about Amish life. Maybe even be combative.”

“I can take it,” she said confidently. “I’ve heard
worse waitressing at Young’s. Someone asked me if I could read.”

I grimaced. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Yes and your shirt says you’re a jerk.’ He said, ‘no it doesn’t.’ So I picked up his paper menu wrote ‘jerk’ across is and slapped it on this chest.”

I stopped walking
. Parishioners dodged us on their way to the parking lot. “Then what happened?”

“He left, which I didn’t mind at all. A guy like that does
n’t tip. If they do, they unload the change from their pockets, which is more insulting than not tipping at all. I don’t want your lint-covered pennies, buddy.”

“What did Ellie say?
” I asked. “Did she know?”

“Oh, yeah, she knew,” Becky sighed. “Ellie put
me in the kitchen for a week after that. She said I couldn’t insult the customers no matter what stupid things they say.”

“That’s probably a good policy.”
I couldn’t help but grin. I wrapped my arm around her thin shoulders. “And I think you’re right. You do have a lot to share with the tour group, and it will add to the tour and help their outlook on Amish life.”

“Will I get paid for this?”

“Umm, no.”

“Oh well, it will still be fun.” She snapped her fingers. “I left my music for next Sunday in the choir room. Let me go grab it.” She dashed back for the church, yelling over her shoulder. “Don’t let Timothy leave without me.”

Timothy waited by the truck. The sunlight shone on his head, and I was struck again by how handsome he was, but it wasn’t just his looks that drew me to him there was something more, deeper. I forced myself to stop staring as I grew closer. Mabel hung her fluffy head over the pickup’s tailgate. Timothy scratched her between the ears. Timothy’s affection for his dog made me love him more, and his tolerance for my temperamental Siamese made him a prince.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“In a minute. Becky had to run back inside for her choir music. She’s coming with us and is going to ride with me on the on the bus today.”

“Good.
I’m glad you won’t be alone. That’s a strange crowd you have on that bus, and I’m not certain they are all trustworthy.”

“
Hudson had some kind of questionable past.”

“What do you think
Hudson will say about Becky joining you?”

“
He might grumble, but I think the group would love to talk to Becky about her experiences.”

“Hey
, what about me?” Timothy asked.

I cocked my head.
“You want to talk in front of the bus?”

He grinned. “Good point. Anyway, since Becky will be on the bus with you, I should start on those odd jobs
for the inn.” He cleared his throat. “What did Curt want?”

Briefly, I told Timothy about Faith Beyond Bars.

“And he wants you to do what exactly?”

“Just build a website. It’s nothing. I can do that in my sleep.”

“I don’t think that’s all he wants,” Timothy muttered.

“Timothy Troyer, are you jealous?” I tease
d, hoping to diffuse the situation.

Heat flashed in his
eyes. “Yes.”

I swa
llowed as he stepped toward me. “Timothy, we are in the church parking lot.”

A young family walked by on their way to their minivan. I smiled at them.

He didn’t pay any attention to my warning. “Of course, I’m jealous.”

“That’s silly. You have nothing to worry about.”

He kissed my forehead. “Not from you. I know that.”

He stepped
closer to me. The silver charm necklace of a hammer and computer mouse, which he had given me for Christmas, burned into my clavicle bone.

Becky ran toward us, waving her music in the air. “I got it
. I’m ready to go!”

Timothy stepped
back, and I remembered how to move air in and out of my lungs.

On the drive back to the Dutch Inn, I was happy Becky sat between us, so that I could recover.

* * * * *

An hour
and half later, Becky and I stood outside of the Dutch Inn, helping the guests onto the bus.

“Charles,” Bitty said to her husband over her shoulder. “Did you use your
Sensodyne this morning? You know how cold food bothers your teeth, and you have a soft spot for ice cream.”

The top of Charles’s bald head turned red. “Bitty, please just get on the bus.”
He clutched his huge camera in his hands.

Becky’s forehead wrinkled. “What’s
Sensodyne?”