Different Paths (12 page)

Chapter Twenty

I pulled into the parking lot of Kulpsville Mennonite Church and studied the building. An old stone structure, it was probably at least a hundred and fifty years old. A modern addition was tacked on to the west end—probably a wing for classrooms, the way it looked. Thick, mature oaks and maples competed with the church’s height, casting shadows across the tall, white-paned windows.

Several cars were parked close to the front door, and I recognized the Odyssey the Hershbergers had driven to our house the day before. Neither of the other two cars were familiar.

I parked next to the minivan, by the front walk, and left the windows partially open, promising Queenie I wouldn’t be long. “Really,” I said. “This is just a drive-by visit, and I doubt the church folks would welcome a dog running around the property. Even one as good as you.”

She flopped onto the seat, very put out.

Stepping into the foyer of the church, I was pleasantly surprised by the coolness of the interior. The stone and trees were doing their job to keep the summer sun from heating up the church.

“May I help you?” A woman peered at me suspiciously from a doorway, where she stood, a stack of papers in her hands. Her eyes traveled from the tips of my cast to my head, lingering on the points of the steerhead on my neck.

“Yeah. Is Katherine around?”

“The pastor?”

Um,
yeah
. “I came by to say hello.”

She looked at me for a few more seconds before stepping back and waving me inside the room. “Her office is in here.”

I clomped toward her, making her step back even further, and stepped into the room. It looked like any church office—at least the few that I’ve seen—with a computer, desk, phones, and a watercolor painting with the words “Come, ye that love the Lord” inked in with fancy script. It reminded me of a piece Lucy had owned before the tornado had destroyed her apartment over my garage last summer. What had she called it? A fraktur. Mennonite folk art done by a local artist.

The woman bustled ahead of me, sticking her head through a doorway in the corner. “Pastor Katherine? There’s a…lady here to see you.”

I heard the rise and fall of Katherine’s voice, and the sound of her footsteps.

“Stella!” She smiled and walked up to me, hands out. I picked one of them and shook it.

“What brings you by?”

I leaned against the desk to rest my foot. “Delivered some mulch to your house and helped to shovel it out. Alan suggested I come over to see your office.”

“Well, that’s great. This is Dorie. The church’s secretary.” She gestured to the woman who’d greeted me. She looked a little more enthusiastic now that Katherine had accepted me.

“Dorie, this is Stella Crown. The one with the dairy farm I was telling you about.”

Dorie smiled and nodded, and I was amazed she hadn’t recognized me, seeing how I’d obviously been a topic of conversation. Could it be that Katherine hadn’t mentioned my tattoos? Unheard of.

The sound of hammering came from Katherine’s office, and I blinked.

“Here. Come into my office,” Katherine said.

I walked past smiling Dorie and stepped toward Katherine’s room, pausing in the doorway. “Oh, hi, Tricia.”

Katherine’s sister turned briefly from the wall, where she had just pounded in a nail. “Stella.” She picked up a framed picture, which I expected to be the usual picture of Jesus. This painting, however, was different. Much better than that one with him looking all washed out and simpering. This one gave him some color—a darker skin than most portraits show—and some fire in his eyes. The kind of Jesus I’d prefer, any day.

I looked around the room for obvious signs of the vandalism, but didn’t see anything. Another glance at the wall told me it was freshly painted, and I could only imagine the offensive words that had been slashed across it only a couple of days before. I wanted to say something about them, try to make a connection with Dr. Peterson’s murder, but Willard wanted me to keep quiet about the sign.

I forced a smile at Katherine. “Looks like you’re getting settled in.”

“I’ve had good help. Tricia’s much better at this stuff than I am.”

I gestured toward the Jesus painting. “I thought your artwork had all been destroyed.”

“Most of it was. This one, thank goodness, I’d been planning to hang at home, so it wasn’t over here.” Her face was tight. “But I lost a lot of special things.”

I looked around the room, seeing small, unharmed pieces of pottery and a hanging tapestry.

Katherine followed my gaze. “Tricia made a trip to the Kulpsville Flea Market this morning, over in the old elementary school. She found a few things to start my collection back up. It will take a while to replace everything. And some things can’t be replaced, of course. But it’s a start.”

A photo sat on a shelf at eye-level, and I stepped closer. It was obviously the extended family, with Katherine’s and Tricia’s broods, and a woman who must have been their mother. Everyone wore red and green, and a wreath hung on the wall behind them. “Christmas photo?”

Katherine smiled. “From a few years back.”

“That’s your mother?”

Katherine glanced at Tricia, whose focus was on the painting she was hanging. “Before she got sick. You can tell just by looking at her face that she was happy that Christmas.”

A sound of scattering nails came from across the room, and we watched as Tricia knelt to pick them up. Katherine stepped forward to help, but Tricia shooed her away.

Katherine sighed, and turned back to the picture. “You recognize Alan and David, I’m sure, and Trevor.” She pointed at the girl in front of Alan. “That’s our daughter, Tori. And Tricia’s two daughters. You’ve met Sarah, of course, and that’s Elena.”

“But Elena’s little.” Young and leggy, like a colt.

Katherine laughed. “She looks much older now. But still in high school. Doing a high school kind of summer job.”

“She’s a nanny for a couple of bratty kids.”

I jumped at the voice behind me, and saw Sarah in the doorway.

“I’m
so
glad I’m past that.”

I remembered her saying the same thing at Ma’s the other night. She must’ve really hated baby-sitting as a teenager if she had to repeat herself all the time.

“It’s a good job, Sarah.” Tricia stepped back from the painting, then toward it again to tip it to the left with her finger. “There. Looks level. Now, I’m going to go plant those geraniums, unless you wanted me to do something else?”

“Sounds good.”

“Want to help me, Sarah?”

Sarah blew a bubble with the piece of gum she was chewing. “No. Thanks.”

Tricia’s face fell, but she rallied, and while she didn’t look happy, she at least looked resigned.

Katherine glanced at her niece. “I can help you, Tricia.”

“No. No, that’s fine. I’ll get Dorie to help.”

“Oh, okay. Great.” Tricia left, and Katherine turned to me. “Sorry about her. About the nails. She’s still so sensitive about Mom dying. Thinks it’s her fault, somehow.”

A weight settled on my chest. I knew that guilt. The guilt of knowing Howie would still be alive if it weren’t for me. For my farm. “Why would she think that?”

Sarah rolled her eyes so expressively I thought she was going to lose her balance. “Because she’s just so…
Mom
.”

Katherine peeked out the office door to make sure Tricia was gone, then came back to stand beside me and spoke quietly, glancing over at Sarah. “I know it was hard on Tricia, taking care of Mom all that time. Especially the last year. It got so bad Tricia felt she couldn’t do it any more, and they put Mom in the nursing home. Mom didn’t last long after going there, and Tricia thinks she died from unhappiness. Science says it was breast cancer.”

“She was also really old.”

“Sarah…” Katherine held up her hands, then dropped them. “Tricia just needs some time, I think. But I hope she can soon feel better. She just looks so…”

“Bad?”

“
Sarah
.” She turned to me and smiled. “Do you want to see the rest of the church? Or are you familiar with it?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”

“Then come. I’ll show you around.”

The three of us walked back past Dorie, who was just getting up from her desk. “I’m going out to help Tricia plant the flowers. Is that okay?”

“Sure. We’re going for a little tour. Be back in a minute.”

Dorie nodded and glanced at the phone, like it would ring as soon as she and Katherine stepped out, and Lord knew what would happen then.

“Here’s the sanctuary.” Katherine led us through a double-door into a spacious room with carpeting and padded benches. The sounds of passing traffic were muffled in the enclosed space, and the air felt slightly stuffy. An upright piano sat at the front of the room, along with a drum set and some music stands. The pulpit was up on a raised stage, with a huge cross hanging on the back wall.

I looked up at the ceiling fans and wondered if they only ran them on Sunday mornings. Sarah stood beside me, and I studied her. “It’s nice you folks can stay to help out with the move. You have time for that?”

Sarah smiled. “I’m working part-time doing some filing and stuff for a law firm in town. They were fine with me taking a few days off to make sure my aunt got settled in okay.”

Katherine put her arm around Sarah’s shoulders and squeezed. “I don’t know what we would’ve done without them. We weren’t sure
David
would be able to get off work, but he called in a few favors and took some vacation time.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a salesman for a fire protection business. They make sprinkler systems, smoke alarms, that sort of thing.”

“And Tricia?”

Sarah waved a hand in the direction of where her mother was, outside. “She’s just at home. She can make her own schedule since she doesn’t have anything she has to do.”

Katherine glanced back toward the doors, as if afraid Tricia would suddenly appear. “She used to be a photographer. I mean, she still is, but doesn’t actually have a job doing it. She gave it up when the girls were born, and hasn’t ever gotten back to it, even now that the kids are getting older. She was really good at it. I keep hoping, now that Mom’s gone…” She shook her head and held her hand out toward a side door. “Want to see the classrooms?”

She took me through the rest of the church, showing me the Sunday School rooms, the nursery, the kitchen. I was soon glancing at a clock. “Queenie’s out in the truck. I really shouldn’t leave her out there any longer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me take you back.” Katherine led us back through the church, stopping in the foyer. “Thanks so much for stopping by. It was nice to see you.”

“Sure. I hope things go smoother for you now. No more break-ins.”

She pointed at the door, where I could see shiny new hardware. “We had the locksmith come out and change the locks. That’s about the best we can do. Other than pray that the perpetrator has a change of heart.”

Oh, God.

“Well, good luck.”

“Thank you.”

“See you later, Sarah.”

She waved and followed Katherine back into the office.

I exited the door as Tricia was coming in. She gave me a startled look, and glanced back out the door before coming all the way in. “I hope you don’t mind, I used—”

Queenie went suddenly frantic, barking and jumping around in the truck.

“What the…?” I pushed past Tricia to get outside. A squirrel sat on the tailgate of my truck, a nut in its mouth, tormenting Queenie. I shooed it off, and Queenie gave a few more yips before settling down. When I turned back to the church to say good-bye to Tricia, she had already gone.

“She’s really wonderful.” Dorie was watering the new bed of red geraniums next to the church sign, right in front of my truck.

“Tricia?”

“No. Pastor Katherine.”

“Oh. Yeah, she’s nice.”

“More than nice.” She shook the last few drops from the watering can, and turned toward me. “She’s what our church needs right now.” She looked at me expectantly, like it was my turn to say something.

“Um, pretty flowers.”

“What? Oh. Yes. Tricia picked them out. The petunias that were here before were…well, they got pulled out.”

By the vandals?

“It’s nice Tricia can help out.”

Dorie’s expression soured. “I guess.” She fiddled with the handle of the watering can. “I don’t know if… She makes little comments here and there. Stuff about wondering if Pastor Katherine can really do the work. If she should stay after…after what happened the other night. Like she thinks she shouldn’t be here.”

Or shouldn’t be doing this job? I recalled the discomfort on Tricia’s face when Lucy was spouting off about women in ministry. Or maybe it had more to do with being jealous that Katherine had a career of any kind, since she’d given up photography.

“She’s probably just worried about her,” I said.

Dorie considered it. “Maybe. I hope so.” She peered into the watering can, like maybe it filled itself while we were talking. “Anyway, she’ll be gone soon. Although I do like her daughter. She’s much more supportive of Pastor Katherine.”

Queenie made a thumping noise as she bumped her head against the truck window. I did my own thumping on the way across the parking lot. When I got in the seat and backed out, I could see Dorie filling up her can to water some more flowers around the front of the church.

“Shall we?” I asked Queenie. “I could really use a little nap. And Nick’s probably wondering where I disappeared to.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me, panting noisily.

We left the church and headed home.

Chapter Twenty-one

Nick’s blue Ranger was a welcome sight when we turned into the drive, and my heart jumped at the sight of Nick himself sitting on the side steps. Queenie tried to claw her way out of the truck, having missed him when she was getting her beauty sleep during the night. I parked, somehow managing to avoid getting run over by Queenie as she was first out the door, and let myself down from the cab as quickly as I could, hobbling up the path toward the house. Nick was halfway down the walk before I got there, and scooped me into his arms, Queenie fighting for space between us.

I kissed him, then pulled back to look at his face. “Sleep all right?”

“Slept fine, once I got over feeling guilty for giving you a heart attack.”

“Well, you were close to getting a crutch upside your head, so I guess we would’ve been even.”

He smiled. “Want another chance?”

“Nah. I’d have to go back to the truck and get my crutches.”

Arms around each other, we went inside the house, and I pulled him to the front room and sat on the sofa where I’d taken my nap the day before. “I’m glad you came.”

He reached out to run his fingers down my face. “Me, too. I couldn’t see leaving you up here by yourself with everything that’s going on.”

I took a deep breath and laid my head on his shoulder.

“Besides,” he said, “Miranda’s driving me crazy.”

I gave a short laugh and sat back up. “What’s she doing now?”

“You know. Going through my refrigerator. Screening my calls. Trying to talk me out of dating some gal who likes cows better than her.”

My jaw tightened. “Well, I
would
like her if she’d—”

“I’m kidding.” He pulled me back in his arms. “I’m kidding. I know you do your best with her. As we all do.”

I relaxed and let my head fall back onto his shoulder. “Whatever you’re doing here, I’m glad. I tried to call you last night before I went to sleep.”

“Yeah?”

“Busy.”

“Trying to tie up some business on my way up. I know, I know, I shouldn’t talk while I’m driving, but I got one of those new ear pieces I can stick on in the truck.”

His phone, as if knowing we were talking about it, vibrated on his belt, making me jump. He pulled it out of its holder and looked at the screen. “And guess who’s calling?”

“No way. Let me talk to her.”

He grinned, but flipped open the phone and put it to his own ear. “Miranda? What’s up?” He listened. “Sorry. Can’t. I’m in Pennsylvania.” A pause, then a barrage of loud talking. Nick held the phone out, away from his head. When he heard silence for a few seconds he risked putting the phone back. “Listen, Miranda, I came up to see Stella. Yes, I know you don’t.” He smiled at me. “But the thing is, you see, I do.”

He does? Of course he does.

“Okay. Tell Mom not to worry. I’m fine. Okay? Bye.” She was still talking when he closed the phone and clipped it back on his belt. “That’s the problem with cell phones. I can’t get away.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you all along?”

“I know. So anyway, you don’t need crutches anymore?”

I grimaced, the mention of my foot making it throb. “Actually, I’m pretty sore right now. I should probably take some painkiller and put it up for a bit.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.”

He left me on the couch and scrabbled through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom until he found the pills. He brought one, along with a glass of water, and sat beside me. “So where have you been? I woke up not long ago and haven’t even found Lucy yet.”

“You didn’t see my note in the kitchen?”

“Wasn’t hungry, so I didn’t eat breakfast.”

“Nick—”

“I’ll eat lunch. I promise. Now tell me about your morning.”

I explained how Ma had volunteered me for the mulch expedition, and how that turned into a visit to the church. He shook his head. “So it’s back to business as usual for the Mennos, huh, even with the vandalism?”

“What are they going to do? Hire security guards?”

He smiled. “I guess not.”

“So they go on.”

“Well, it’s no wonder your foot’s tired.”

I lay my head against the couch. “What about you? You look good.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Of course.” I grinned. “What I mean is, you look healthy.”

“I
feel
healthy. But don’t tell Miranda. She won’t believe you.”

He leaned back beside me and set his feet on the coffee table, next to mine. “So what’s your plan for the rest of the day?”

I thought about the farm, and the work that needed to be done. And then I thought about my foot, and the look on Lucy’s face when I got in the way and risked more injury. Mine and hers.

“I thought maybe I’d go visit Carla. She’s home from the hospital, and I want to make sure she’s okay.”

He brightened. “Think her boyfriend would be there?”

“Why, you want to date him now?”

He laughed. “I want to meet this paragon.”

“You’ll probably have the chance, since he’s practically stuck to her. Unless I call ahead. Then he’d leave, since he seems to be scared of me.”

“Can’t blame him. But don’t call. Let him be there.”

I grunted. “Okay. But if he sees me and takes off running, it’s not my fault.”

“Whatever you say. You want to go now?”

I considered what it would mean, most importantly that I’d have to get off the couch. “Nah. Let’s give my pills some time to work. And maybe have some lunch a little later.”

“And what do we do till then?”

“You have to ask?”

No. He didn’t.