Suspendered Sentence (An Amish Mystery) (8 page)

“Oh, Eli, I didn’t hear you come in.” She stepped down off the stool and made her way around the counter, the sight of her friend’s new husband bringing a much-needed lift to her step. “How are you? How is Esther?”

“Esther is well, thank you. But she would worry if she saw what I saw just now.”

She tilted her head and peered up at Eli, the visual similarities between the young man and his older brother multiplying with each passing day. “What did you see?”

“A deep frown where there is usually a smile.”

Before she could make sense of his words, he continued, his brows arching upward as he did. “Is something the matter, Claire? Something I can help fix?”

Her confusion gave way to understanding and she tried her best to brush his observations off with a laugh. The fact that it was forced was not lost on Eli.

“It seems there are many frowns these days. The kind of frowns men with tools and boards cannot fix.”

She allowed the pent-up sigh past her lips then motioned for him to follow her back to the counter and the pair of waiting stools. “I wish all problems in life could be solved as quickly and efficiently as the Amish tend to a burned barn. I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. It was truly awe-inspiring.”

Eli took the stool his wife frequented during her days as Claire’s employee. “Galatians 6:10 advises, ‘As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith.’”

“It’s a beautiful thing to see, Eli.” Claire leaned her back against the edge of the counter and pointed toward his chin. “You wear your beard well.”

She watched as his callused hand rose to touch the new growth, a peaceful smile lifting his cheeks in the process. “It is good to be married to Esther.”

“I knew it would be.” A familiar lump formed in her throat and she worked to clear it away. “I miss her being here with me.”

“That is not the only reason for your frown, yah?”

She considered arguing, but knew it was fruitless. Eli was a sharp man but, more than that, he was fiercely loyal to those he cared about. Claire’s link to Esther put her squarely in that camp. “I guess I’m just worried about a lot of people right now.”

“Jakob?”

Glancing up, she met Eli’s eyes and realized the question was more rhetorical than anything else.

“Yes.”

“I have seen him at Stoltzfus’s farm. Sometimes he has paper and pen, sometimes he just walks around the hole where the body was found.”

“It’s his job to figure out what happened to Sadie Lehman,” she said, her voice quiet yet steady.

“And he will do it well.”

She couldn’t help but marvel at the genuine conviction in Eli’s tone despite the ban that made so many of his Amish brethren turn away from the very mention of Jakob Fisher. The sentiment itself didn’t really surprise her, not coming from Eli, anyway. Eli seemed to be able to look at Jakob in a way few Amish could. As a result, Claire was certain Esther was free to speak of her uncle inside her home without worry of being shunned by her husband.

“I will tell him you said so,” she whispered.

Eli nodded once, his gaze never leaving Claire’s face. “I often think of you and Jakob at the wedding. I could not speak with him, but I did look his way. He is happy with you.”

She felt the instant warming of her cheeks and gave the only response she could. “And I am happy with him. Jakob is a good man.”

“Yah.”

A comfortable silence fell across the room as she mentally revisited the day Esther and Eli got married. So much of the day had been a blur as she tried to focus on the joy she felt for her friends rather than the sadness in her heart at losing Esther from Heavenly Treasures’ day-to-day operations. But the one part that remained crystal clear was standing next to Jakob as Eli and his niece became husband and wife. Nothing—not the countless backs that had been turned in his direction or the fact he couldn’t speak to his family members—could have wiped the joy from Jakob’s face the moment Esther had smiled at him in her plain white wedding dress.

“Now that is much better. Esther would be pleased.”

She pulled her thoughts back to the present and the man seated on the opposite stool. “What’s much better?”

“You are smiling again.”

Indeed, she was.

“It is because of Jakob, no?”

“You’re as bad as Diane, do you know that?” she joked before granting the nod she knew Eli sought. “Yes, Jakob was part of my smile just then. But so, too, was Esther . . . and you.”

“Then it is set.”

She drew back, confused. “I’m sorry, Eli, you lost me. What’s set?”

“You will come to dinner tonight.”

“Dinner?” she echoed.

“Yah. That is why I am here. To ask you to dinner tonight.”

“I—”

“Esther said I am to tell you she is making chocolate cake for dessert. She said that will convince you to come.”

It felt good to laugh, to leave her worries about Jakob and Ben behind if even for just a little while. “I accept.” Leaning forward she winked up at Eli, her smile still huge. “But between you and me, I didn’t need the cake to convince me.”

Chapter 7

I
f she’d had any hint of doubt that Eli was a hard worker, it disappeared the moment his and Esther’s farmhouse came into view around the bend. Suddenly, the dilapidated building that had housed the late Harley Zook as recently as five months earlier looked like a true home.

Gone were the shutters that hung from the window by a precarious nail or two—replaced, instead, by brand-new freshly painted versions.

Gone was the spray-painted graffiti from the foundation of the home, the murderous threat to the previous owner covered over by the same fresh coat of white paint that gave the rest of the house a much-needed lift.

Gone, too, were the rotting boards of a once-expansive front porch—in their place sturdy two-by-fours and a simple, yet tastefully painted railing that gave the outdoor space a brand-new lease on life.

Sliding the gearshift into park, Claire stared up at the house, flabbergasted. Sure, she’d known Eli was working to restore the house, but to make such night-and-day progress during the winter months was simply mind-boggling, at best.

“Claire! Claire!”

Esther’s voice seeped through the closed car and propelled Claire from her seat, the utter shock she’d felt only moments earlier a distant blip compared to the excitement now coursing through her body at the promise of some real time with her best friend.

“Hi, Esther,” she called out as she pushed the car door shut and fairly ran toward the front porch. When she reached the top step, she pulled the Amish girl in for a hug and held her close, the much-missed aromas of soap and hearth pricking her eyes with unshed tears. “It is so good to see you again, Esther.”

“It is good to see you again, too, Claire. I am sorry I was so sad when I saw you last.”

She released her friend from her embrace and stepped back to afford a closer look. “I’ll take time with you any way I can get it. But, I have to admit, I much prefer seeing you with this smile.”

“I am happy.”

Claire gestured toward the house, her earlier surprise rearing its head again. “This place looks amazing. I . . . I can’t believe the work you’ve done in just a few short months. It looks like a different house.”

“Eli has worked hard. He wants everything to be nice for me and for the baby.”

Her jaw slacked as she processed her friend’s words. “You mean you’re pregnant?”

“Yah.”

“Oh, Esther . . . I didn’t know.”

“I asked Eli not to tell. I wanted to do it. But I was too upset about Sadie the other day to tell you. So I waited until now.”

She hugged her friend a second time then stepped back to place a gentle hand on the tiniest hint of a mound Claire had failed to notice beneath the black aproned dress. “When are you due?”

“Harvesttime. Mamm says it will be a busy time for Eli.”

Looking again at the house and then Esther, she offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “If anyone can handle it, it’s Eli.”

“That is what I told Mamm.”

She gathered Esther’s hands inside her own and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Can I tell Jakob?”

A smile made its way from Esther’s mouth to her eyes in quick fashion, stealing Claire’s breath in the process. “I was hoping you would say that. Yes . . . please. Tell him.”

“He’s going to be so happy.”

“I am glad.” Then, turning toward the door, Esther looked back at Claire. “Please. Come. Eli and I have been working to get things ready inside, too.”

She shadowed her friend through the door and into the large front room that was the norm in so many Amish homes. The floors in the wide-open space gleamed. “We are to host church next weekend.”

“Isn’t that a lot in your condition?” she asked, curious. “I mean, you can have as many as a hundred people here that day, right?”

“Mamm will help with the cooking and I will be fine.”

“You are a marvel, Esther King—I mean, Miller.” She shook her head, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Esther. I guess I’m just not used to your married name yet.”

Esther waved aside her apology. “I have made that mistake many times since the wedding. Eli does not get mad. He says it will get easier to say, and he is right. I am saying Miller with more ease now.” Then, hooking her thumb over her shoulder, she made a face more reminiscent of the Esther Claire remembered from the shop. “This is not my favorite room. Come. Let me show you the kitchen. It is where I spend much of my days cooking, or painting.”

She followed Esther into the heart of the home. There, the wood-planked floor and soft green walls enveloped her in an instant feeling of warmth that had little to do with the delightful smells wafting from the simple stove on the opposite side of the room. “Oh, Esther, it’s lovely.”

A hint of red rose up in Esther’s otherwise pale face at the praise and she brushed it off with the required humility, drawing Claire’s attention to specifics, instead. “Eli said we were to have a big kitchen table. For our growing family and for when people come to share supper.”

“It’s perfect.” And it was. Like the large dining room table at Sleep Heavenly, Esther’s lent itself to good food and conversation. She pointed at the sparkling appliances around the room and looked back at Esther. “Those all run on gas?”

Esther nodded and then directed Claire’s attention to a hand-carved shelf on the wall above the sewing machine. “Those are the bowls you gave us for our wedding. Eli said they looked nice on his shelf.”

She blinked away a new set of tears, the presence of her gift in such a prominent spot touching her deeply. “Eli is right.”

“Claire? Are you okay? You seem sad.”

“I’m not sad, Esther. I’m happy you and Eli have each other and this beautiful home.”

“As you will have with Jakob one day.” Esther ducked her head then peered back up at Claire with a sweet smile. “Mamm says I should not say such things to you. That I should wait for my uncle to decide, but I am sure. Mamm is, too.”

She staggered to the table and dropped onto the bench closest to the entryway, her friend’s words more than she could process at that moment. “Esther, it’s too soon. We’re really still trying to figure out what’s going on between us, if anything.”

“Oh, there is something going on. It is plain as day every time I see my uncle look at you.” Esther crossed to the oven and opened it, her nose lifting into the air in perfect time with Claire’s. “We shall eat soon.”

Claire listened for Eli’s footsteps on the floor above but heard nothing. “Where is Eli? He will be joining us, won’t he?”

“Of course. But he must check the cows first.” Esther closed the oven door and then began adding butter to something in a large pot. “It is good that he is busy in the barn. It quiets his worry about Ben.”

She sat up tall, her curiosity aroused. “Eli is worried about Ben? Why?”

Esther covered the pot, stepped to the left, and grabbed the threesome of dishes stacked on the counter. “Ben has been quiet since Sadie’s body was found. He keeps to himself in the field and does not say much when Eli stops by their dat’s farm. He says it is as if Elizabeth has passed all over again.”

Claire stood and took the plates and utensils from Esther’s hands. “Please, let me set the table. You tend to the meal.” Then, as she moved around the table, setting each place, she brought the conversation back to Ben, curious as to what Esther might know. “I would imagine it would be hard, at times, for Ben to be around Elizabeth’s friends and family just in the course of a regular day, let alone in the wake of one of their deaths.”

“That does make sense. I know I cannot stop thinking of Waneta and how she must be feeling now that she knows she will never see Sadie again. There is comfort in knowing it was God’s will, but it is still sad.”

“It is.” She set a cup beside each plate and then reclaimed her spot at the end of the wooden bench as Esther put bread in a basket and carried it to the table. There was so much she wanted to know about Elizabeth’s friends—people who’d been on Rumspringa when Esther had been just an infant, yet very likely remained in the same district today. “Do you know a Miriam? A Miriam Hoster-something?”