Shadows of Lancaster County (46 page)

“ ‘To make matters more complicated,’ ” Remy continued, “ ‘Kaspar Hauser continues to gain popularity each day, and all the world awaits for me to weigh in on this matter of whether or not he is my son. He is a sad creature and an oddity for sure, but he is not the man who needs to come home and take up his grandfather’s legacy. Make no mistake, Karl Stephan: You are. Please, do the honorable thing and come back to us now. Sincerely, Your mother, SdB.’ ”

When Remy set the letter down, his eyes were shining, and we were all speechless. In a way, I was more excited about the letters than I was about the jewels. Just looking at them there, sitting in their folded, beribboned pile inside the jewelry box, I felt a connection to the past, a link to Stephanie de Beauharnais, the woman who had been my six-greats grandmother. I wanted to read them all, and right away, but Remy begged me not to touch them, saying that they needed to be handled in the proper conditions or they could disintegrate in our hands.

Finally, with a deep sigh of satisfaction, he closed the lid.

“I do believe,” Remy said, “that not only do I now have what I need for the last chapter of
Nowhere to Be Found: Lost Jewels and Antiquities,
I also have the first chapter for my next book:
Nowhere to Be Found: Missing Missives.
”

Climbing up out of the basement, I was amazed to see a whole line of cars and people watching from the road. As much as I hated the press, when I spotted a dark green van driving slowly past, I couldn’t have loved them more. Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shouted out to the whole lot of them, asking who wanted an exclusive.

They all cheered and waved their arms, so I yelled again.

“I’ll give a full interview, with pictures, to whoever can stop that van and keep those people captive until the police get here. They’re criminals!”

En masse, the crowd moved in, so many bodies blocking the way that the driver of the van had no choice but to surrender. Considering how many reporters it took to subdue the people inside, I wasn’t sure how I would sort out my promised reward, but I was just relieved that for now we were safe.

With the “accosteswabbers’ ” plan for sweeping in and taking the jewels obviously foiled, for the first time in my life I could honestly say I absolutely loved the press.

At Remy’s suggestion, I borrowed Isaac’s bodyguard and drove into town to a bank, where I rented a safety deposit box for the jewels and the documents. Back at the house, Remy had thoroughly photographed and cataloged the entire set, but the letters remained in their bundle until such time as we could meet with an expert and have them safely duplicated so they could be read without damaging them. I had no idea how our family would be proceeding with the jewels, but that was a question better left for another day.

With all the fun of our discovery, it had been easy to forget that Bobby was still suffering greatly at the hospital, Lydia was grappling with the hard truths about her child’s health and her husband’s deception, and Reed and the FBI were still working to extract the whole truth from Dr. Updyke.

When I returned from the bank, I was pleased to see that Haley was still there. She was reclining on the couch, simultaneously playing Mancala with Isaac and talking on her cell phone. I knew that Grete would be uncomfortable with having a phone in the house, so finally I gave a few hand signals to Haley and she sat up, suddenly realizing the rudeness of her ways.

“Oh, sorry, duh,” she said, holding one hand over the mouthpiece. “I’ll hang up now. It’s my mom. She wants to know if she can swing by later and drop off some of this leftover funeral food.”

“Funeral food?”

“Yeah, we had a catered lunch with Doug’s parents after the funeral this morning, but there’s a shrimp platter, two pies, and a cake that never even got opened, if you guys would like them.”

“That would be lovely,” Grete said, so Haley told her mother yes and then ended her call.

I wasn’t sure what to do with myself next. I wanted to get back to the hospital to see Bobby and maybe even relieve Lydia for a few hours, but I kept delaying in the hopes that Reed would stop by. Looking at my watch, I decided I would give it one more hour, and if he hadn’t appeared by then, I would head to the hospital and catch up with him later.

Grete and Rebecca chatted easily as they worked at the sewing machine by the window, and when I asked if there was anything I could do to help out around the house for an hour or so, Grete asked if I knew how to make egg noodles.

“I do,” said Haley. “Can I help?”

“You direct, I’ll help. I’ve never made noodles in my life.”

“Okay. Grete, do you mind if we make ourselves at home in your kitchen?”

“Please, feel free. Seeing the photos of that quilt has made me very much in the mood for sewing today, not cooking.”

Haley and I washed our hands at the sink, and then she began listing the ingredients and utensils that we needed as I retrieved them from the pantry and put them together in a collection on the counter. I didn’t understand my old friend at all. Just this morning, she had attended her husband’s funeral. Considering that, where was her good humor and energy coming from?

Fifteen minutes later, as we were up to our wrists in dough, I came out and asked her. Lowering her voice, Haley replied she wasn’t sure, but there was something so incredibly healing about being here in this house and being back together with her old best friend that she felt better today than she had in weeks.

“What about the life insurance mess your mom was telling me about?” I asked, also keeping my voice low. “Did the police drop that?”

“I’m not sure. I’m not worried about it.”

“You sound pretty cavalier for a woman with involuntary manslaughter on her record. Don’t you remember the horror of that whole time? The possibility of juvie or jail hanging on your shoulders like a million-pound weight?”

She shrugged.

“What difference does it make? I won’t live long enough to get to trial anyway.”

As I processed that thought, Haley assembled the pasta maker, though she seemed a bit perplexed that it had no wire or plug. When I reminded her that this was an Amish house and that most of their appliances used elbow grease, she studied the contraption for a minute, figured out which way to turn the handle and where to load the dough, and then got down to business. We were really getting the hang of it when there was a knock at the door and Melody stuck her head inside.

“Anybody home?”

Grete met her at the door and took from her two big pie boxes, and Rebecca went out and helped bring in the rest from the car.

As good as Haley was looking today, especially compared to yesterday at the wake, Melody was almost the opposite. At the wake, she had looked her usual stunning self; today, she was a mess, her hair askew, her outfit looking thrown together and rather wrinkled.

I asked her if she was doing okay, but she shook her head and said that it had been a difficult day, what with having to get through the funeral, host Doug’s obnoxious parents at lunch, and figure out how to unload all this food, all the while catching whispers of rumors about Dr. Updyke having been arrested by the FBI.

“And what about Bobby?” Melody asked. “Does he know who ran him off the road?”

I told her no and then caught her up on what we did know about what he had been through. Haley and I finished with the noodles, and as she cleaned up our mess, I made a pot of tea, hoping that would help Melody relax. Everyone seemed ready to take a break, so finally we all sat at the table and chatted as we sipped, talking about Bobby’s situation and Doug’s death. Grete made the very wise observation that healing usually
began with forgiveness, even when you didn’t know whom you needed to forgive.

“I never got into the whole Amish forgiveness thing the way Anna and Reed did,” Haley said suddenly to Grete and Rebecca, surprising me with her frankness. “I had a hard time believing it was genuine. I guess it wasn’t until the school shooting that I really started to get it. You people don’t just put on an act or say the right things. You genuinely, truly forgive.”

Rebecca and Grete nodded as if they didn’t even quite understand there was another alternative.

“Have you worried that our family did not fully forgive you for the fire?” Grete asked as Melody stood and walked to the stove to pour herself one more cup of tea.

Haley shrugged.

“I suppose so. It’s hard to believe the people you wronged have forgiven you when you haven’t forgiven yourself.”

“We forgave you, Haley. As soon as it was done, it was given over to God. We forgave Anna too,” said Rebecca.

“And Bobby and Reed and Doug,” Grete said.

“And Melody,” Rebecca added.

“And Melody?” I chuckled. “What did you forgive her for?”

“For starting the fire at the
Dawdy Haus,
” Rebecca said.

I looked up to see Melody at the stove, her shoulders suddenly taut.

“What do you mean, Rebecca?” I asked, wondering if I had misunderstood what she said.

“Melody started the fire at the
Dawdy Haus,
the one that killed my parents.”

Now everyone except Melody was staring at Rebecca.

“What are you talking about?” Grete demanded of her sister.

“That night I knew
Mamm
was having the baby because I heard her tell
Daed
to boil some water and call the doctor. I stayed up, waiting for the news of a brother or sister. From my bedroom window, I got to see the whole big fireworks show way out back that you folks made. Then later Melody came tiptoeing around closer, just before the fire. But it was okay. We all forgave. It is the Amish way.”

Next to me, Haley began to tremble with emotion.

“The Amish way? To witness a crime and keep your mouth shut for eleven years?”

Rebecca was so startled by Haley’s questions, she couldn’t even reply.

Incredulous, Haley, Grete, and I all looked over at Melody, who was slowly pouring hot water into a cup. Suddenly, there was a commotion at the back door as Isaac came bounding in, followed by the bodyguard. Melody leapt toward the huge man, swinging the hot, heavy teapot around in a wide arc as she went, landing it against the side of the bodyguard’s head with a sickening thunk. We all screamed, but in the time it took for me to grab Isaac and whip him around behind me, the bodyguard was lying in an unconscious heap on the floor and Melody had managed to get the gun out of his ankle holster. Now, she had it trained on all of us.

“Mom, what are you doing? Have you cracked?”

“Come on, Melody,” I said in a much calmer, more soothing voice. “You don’t want to do this. Don’t add a new crime to an old one.”

Melody shook her head sadly and told us that she had already added several new crimes, so what difference did it make? “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

The gun still gripped firmly in her hand, Melody herded us toward the sitting area. The main light fixture in the room was a floor lamp powered by a propane tank that was tucked neatly inside a large, round wooden base. Gesturing with the gun, Melody made the five of us sit around that base now, our backs to each other. Her eyes scanned the room and soon landed on Grete.

“Get some rope,” Melody said, and Grete did as she asked, walking calmly to the pantry, reaching inside, and coming out with a new package of clothesline cord. She carried it over to Melody and handed it to her.

“Open it,” Melody commanded.

Grete did as she said, and though her hands were steady, I could see the fear in her eyes, especially when Melody told her to tie us up. Reluctantly, Grete secured one end of the rope to the pole and began wrapping it around us.

“You’re my mother,” Haley cried. “I can’t believe you let me blame myself all these years for a fire you started.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I never meant to frame you or your friends—or to kill the Schumanns. That all just sort of happened.”

“Sort of happened?” I demanded. “How?”

Tightening her grip on the gun, Melody kept one eye on Grete’s movements as she explained.