A Sister's Hope (11 page)

Luke stepped into John’s woodworking shop on Saturday morning and found John on his knees, sanding the underside of an old chair. “Hard at work already, huh?”

John looked up and smiled. “Since we didn’t work on Thursday or Friday, I thought I’d better get an early start today.”

“Which is why I’m here fifteen minutes sooner than you told me to be. I figured you’d want to make the most of our day.” Luke
removed his jacket and stocking cap and hung them on the coat tree. “What would you like me to do first?”

“Why don’t you get those stained?” John motioned to a set of cabinets on the other side of the room. “There’s a new bed-and-breakfast opening in Sugarcreek in a few weeks, and they’d like the cabinets done by the first of next week.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Luke said as he got out a can of walnut stain.

They worked in silence for a time; then Luke looked over at John and said, “You’re doing a nice job on that chair.”

“Guess it comes from years of practice.”

“You’re not that old. I doubt you could have been doing woodworking all that long,” Luke said as he dipped his brush in the can of stain.

“I started working part-time for a carpenter out in Oregon when I was sixteen. By the time I’d turned eighteen, I was working full-time.” He grunted. “Of course I didn’t really have much choice, since my stepdad had died, leaving Mom and me to fend for ourselves.”

“Does your mother live in Oregon?”

“She did, but she died a few years after Harold, my stepdad, did.”

“What about your real dad? Is he still living?”

John shook his head. “He died when I was two. I don’t even remember him.” He grabbed another piece of the sandpaper and started working on the chair legs.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Nope.”

“What about grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins?”

John stood and arched his back. “Can we talk about something else? Family—or the lack of it—is not my favorite topic of conversation.”

“Sure, no problem.” Luke was surprised John had told him as much as he had. In all the time he’d been working here, John hadn’t told him much more than the fact that he was single and had no family living in the area. Hearing John’s story made Luke realize those in his Amish community weren’t the only ones who suffered hurts and disappointments. It also made him appreciate the family he had.

“Did you hear what happened at the Hostettlers’ place on Thanksgiving?” John asked.

“I spent Thursday and Friday in bed with the flu, so I haven’t heard much of anything. What happened at the Hostettlers’?”

“Roman’s shop was blown up.”

Luke’s mouth dropped open. “Are you sure about that?”

John nodded. “I saw the fire trucks speeding down the road on my way home Thanksgiving night. When they turned in at the Hostettlers’, I followed to see what had happened.”

“I thought you were going out of town and weren’t planning to be back until Friday night.”

“My plans changed, so I had Thanksgiving dinner at a restaurant in New Philadelphia and headed for home soon after that.”

“And you say Roman’s shop was blown up?”

“Yep. From what I heard, they’d just finished eating their Thanksgiving meal when the big bang occurred.” John’s forehead wrinkled. “You should have seen the mess it made. There was nothing left of Roman’s shop, and he lost all his woodworking tools and everything else in that explosion.”

“That’s terrible. Was it an accident, or do they think it was another attack?”

“The sheriff and the fire marshal said they would conduct an investigation. From what I heard, it sounded like they think there was foul play involved.”

Luke slowly shook his head. “What’s Roman going to do? I mean, without his woodworking business, how’s he going to support his family?”

“I asked him about that, and he said he planned to work out of his barn until he can build another shop. I’m planning to go over there later today and give Roman a few tools. I’m sure he’ll get some help from some of the families in his community, too.”

Luke nodded. Whenever anyone in their community had a need, everyone always rallied. He just wished he felt free to offer his help, as well. Unfortunately, any help he might offer Roman would be flatly refused.

“I can’t believe the kind of luck the Hostettlers have had,” John said. “It sure seems like someone’s out to get them, doesn’t it?”

Luke nodded.
I may not be able to help Roman, but I can help Martha try to figure out who’s responsible for blowing up her daed’s shop.

C
lutching a flashlight, Martha tiptoed out of her room. She took the steps slowly, being careful not to wake Mom, Dad, or Ruth. The last thing she needed was for one of them to see her sneaking outside to search for clues. She’d been planning to do this on Friday evening but had been so tired she’d fallen asleep and hadn’t woken up until morning. This was the first chance she’d had to really look things over, and she hoped she might find one or two clues—anything to learn who had blown up Dad’s shop.

When Martha reached the bottom of the steps, she grabbed her jacket from the wall peg and slipped out the back door. As she stepped into the yard, the cold night air jabbed at her skin. Winter would be here soon.

As she passed the barn, the sour, pungent aroma of horse manure wafted up to her nose. Dad would probably clean the horse stalls sometime tomorrow. Otherwise, he’d never be able to work in the barn.

The gravel under Martha’s feet crunched as she headed down the driveway, using her flashlight to illuminate the way. A quiver of expectation crept up her spine. Would she find anything in the rubble left from Dad’s shop that might give her some clue as to who had done this horrible thing? Maybe the sheriff and fire marshal had missed something.

As Martha approached the spot, she lifted the flashlight and rotated it from side to side, letting the light shine all around. She
kicked at a charred piece of wood with the toe of her sneaker and groaned. “I’ll never find anything in this mess.”

“Probably not, and you shouldn’t be out here alone in the dark.”

Martha whirled around, her heart pounding against her ribcage. “Luke! You scared me half to death! What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Same as you. I came to look for some clues.” He lifted the flashlight he had in his hands.

“I guess you heard what happened here on Thanksgiving then.”

“When I got to work this morning, John told me about your daed’s shop being blown up.”

She nodded. “John stopped here soon after the fire trucks arrived. He said he’d seen them racing down the street and followed them when he realized where they were headed.”

“John’s going to give your daed some of his extra tools. Said he couldn’t believe the kind of luck your folks have been having.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck.” Martha frowned. “I’d say it’s more of a curse than anything.”

“So have you found anything in this mess?” Luke asked, shining his light on the rubble.

She shook her head. “But then, I haven’t been here very long.”

“Was the sheriff called this time?”

“Jah. Both he and the fire marshal came over on Friday morning and checked around. They concluded that Dad’s air compressor must have blown up.”

“What’d your daed say about that?”

“Dad said he’s sure he didn’t leave the compressor running when he closed his shop the night before. He couldn’t figure how the power could have been turned on. He’s sure someone broke into his shop and tampered with the compressor so it would blow up.”

“If the sheriff and the fire marshal didn’t find anything helpful, what makes you think you will?” Luke asked.

Martha resisted the urge to scream. Didn’t Luke think she was smart enough to figure anything out? “Do I look stupid?” she asked a bit too sharply.

“Sorry. I was out of line for making it sound as if I thought you were
dumm
.” He stepped closer to her. “I don’t think that, Martha. I think you’re one of the smartest, bravest women I know. I’m just worried about you, that’s all. It’s not safe for you to be out here in the middle of the night, searching for clues.” He made a sweeping gesture of the debris with his flashlight. “What if whoever did this came back tonight and found you out here alone?”

Martha smiled. Luke obviously cared for her, if only as a friend, or he wouldn’t seem so upset about finding her here. “I told you before that I was going to do some investigating,” she said. “This was the first chance I’ve had to come out here and look around.”

“I can’t believe anyone would do this to your daed’s shop.” Luke slowly shook his head. “These attacks have gone on so long it’s almost unreal. Seems by now someone would have caught the culprit in the act of doing at least one of these things, doesn’t it?”

She nodded. “Dad thinks our faith is being tested. He said the other night that being afraid of what people might do to us is unnecessary if we trust in God.”

“I don’t think that means we should sit back and let these kinds of things happen without trying to put a stop to them.”

“That’s why I want to find out who’s responsible for doing this.”

“Have you looked for footprints?” Luke asked.

“No, but the sheriff did. He said since our driveway and the parking lot by Dad’s shop are graveled, no prints showed.”

“How does he know the attacker came up the driveway?” Luke turned toward the field closest to them—the one separating their property from the Larsons’. “Maybe we should search for clues farther away from your daed’s shop. Whoever did this might have come onto your property that way and left some clues.”

Martha shined her flashlight in that direction. “Do you really think so?”

“It’s worth looking, don’t you think?”

“I suppose it is.”

“Then let’s head over there and see what we can see.”

Luke led the way as they trudged through the field, shining their flashlights in every direction.

“This would be a whole lot easier in the light of day,” he mumbled. “If there
was
any evidence, we could step right over it and not even know.”

“I know, but I feel led to keep looking for a while.”

Luke moved on, continuing to shine his light. Suddenly, he came to a halt.

“What is it, Luke? Why’d you stop?”

“Look here.” He bent down and picked up a wrench. “I’m guessing the person who blew up your daed’s shop might have used this to damage the valve on the air compressor so it wouldn’t release the pressure, which would cause it to blow sky high.”

“We’d better take the wrench to the sheriff so he can check for fingerprints.”

A cold sweat trickled down Luke’s back as he shook his head. “That’s not a good idea, Martha.”

“Why not?”

He shined the light on the wrench. “Now that I foolishly picked this up, my fingerprints are on it. If anyone else’s prints were on the wrench, now they’re all messed up.”

In the soft glow of the moonlight, Luke saw Martha tremble. He took a step back, resisting the desire to pull her into his arms. “Any idea what we should do with the wrench?”

“I suppose I could hide it somewhere—at least until we’ve had time to do more investigating.”

A sense of relief flooded his soul. “I think that’s a good idea—unless you’d rather I take the wrench home with me.”

She shook her head. “I’ll find a place to hide it.”

Luke handed the wrench over to her. “Guess I’d better get on home. My daed gets up early to milk the cows, and if he goes to my room looking for help and discovers I’m not there, he’ll have a conniption.”

“I need to get back up to my room, too.” Martha turned toward her house but whirled back around. “You wouldn’t have blown up my daed’s shop, would you, Luke?”

“Of course not! I can’t believe you would even ask me that question.” A sense of irritation tinged his voice. “I thought by now you had figured out that I was innocent and wanted to help you find out who’s behind the attacks so we can keep your family safe and clear my name.”

“I’m sorry, Luke. I’m just feeling confused and a little bit scared right now.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Luke stepped forward and pulled Martha into his arms. “You don’t have to be scared when you’re with me,” he murmured against the top of her head.