The Imposter (22 page)

At the Stoney Ridge police station, Sheriff Hoffman took Jesse into his office for questioning while Andy was told to wait in the lobby area. Apparently, Domino Joe had been arrested. This sheriff was a talker, and he took particular delight to describe the circumstances that ended in the arrest of Domenico Guiseppe Rizzo.

The Lancaster County Fair had started last weekend, the sheriff explained, and the Lancaster County Police Department had come up with a clever sting to collect fugitives with outstanding warrants. The “Lancaster County Lottery Commission” had sent out thousands of letters, claiming to be distributing millions of dollars in excess lottery funds. The winners were instructed to present identification at the County Fairgrounds. Those who received a letter arrived at the fair to find a balloon and streamer-festooned building. They were called, one by one, into separate rooms to receive their surprise. Uniformed officers explained the hoax and arrested the befuddled fugitives.

“And so that's where Domino Joe and his thugs have been?” Jesse asked incredulously. “In jail?”

“Yup,” Sheriff Hoffman said. “That's where he'll be cooling
his heels for a good long stretch. The LCPD served 53 felony warrants and made 29 arrests. His is going to stick.”

“Then, uh, why am I here?”

“I was the arresting officer for Domino Joe. In his coat, I found a notebook with your name in it. Looks like you had a streak of good luck, and then your luck ran out. I also found this.” He took an envelope out of his top drawer. “There was one thousand dollars in it.” He tossed the envelope across the desk. Jesse's name was scrawled on the envelope. Jesse picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside were ten crisp, new one-hundred-dollar bills.

He tried to keep all signs of alarm smoothed out of his expression. “Am I under arrest?”

The sheriff took his time answering, so long that a bead of sweat ran down Jesse's back. “I happen to know your father. He's a good man. So this one time, Jesse Stoltzfus, you've got a pass. Next time your name crosses my path, I won't be quite as understanding.” He pointed to the door. “Now, get out of here before I change my mind.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir.” Jesse couldn't get out of that office fast enough.

But waiting out in the lobby area, seated next to Andy Miller, was Jesse's father. Jesse opened his mouth to explain, but his father held up a hand. “Andy's filled me in. Are you free to go?” At Jesse's nod, David stood up. “Then let's go home.”

There was a thick silence in the buggy riding home. Jesse sat in the backseat of the buggy, utterly still, sifting through the different defenses he could provide, but whenever he started to say something, he thought twice. His father's jaw was clenched and he shifted in his seat, leaning forward almost prayerfully. Long out of experience, when his father
took on that particular stance, Jesse knew it was best to remain silent. Andy sat up front, his eyes glued to the road, providing nothing beside companionship. Finally, his father broke the silence. “One question, Jesse. I only have one question and I want the honest truth in an answer. Do you know who Yardstick Yoder is?”

“Of course. A few weeks ago, I saw him run and asked him to be in the Hundred-Yard Dash at Founder's Day. Dad, he is
fast
. Fastest boy I've ever seen. I saw him run, and I got carried away. Downright greedy. I see that clearly now.”

“Did you ever,
ever
, think to ask what his real name is?”

Such a thought never occurred to Jesse. “Yoder is a common name,” he offered up weakly.

“Yardstick's name is Noah Yoder. His father was Ephraim Yoder. He missed Sunday's race because he was at his father's bedside in the hospital, watching him pass away.”

“Oh,” Jesse said. Oh, oh, oh.

The success of Jesse's bill collecting took a noticeable downturn after he had been unceremoniously hauled away in the sheriff's car on Sunday. For the last two days, whenever he knocked on a farmhouse door, no one answered, though he heard sounds of scurrying feet inside.

He started to feel more paranoid. Each time Jesse passed a farm he imagined that people were watching him from behind their curtains, wondering what he was up to. He asked his sister Ruthie if she thought people might talk. “Of course people will talk,” she said with certainty. “People always talk. Especially about preachers and their families. As if they weren't human like everybody else.”

These people of Stoney Ridge—they had memories like elephants. Another reason why Jesse wasn't cut out to be a minister's son. He preferred people who provided him a large margin of grace. Or forgetfulness.

His father insisted that he tell Hank the truth. Jesse had been avoiding that inevitable conversation—even hoping he could scrounge up the money he owed him this week. But after two full days of fruitless bill collecting, he knew he couldn't postpone it any longer. He had to come clean. And then, perhaps, move far, far away to make a fresh start from his messy life. Prince Edward Island, perhaps.

Feeling at his lowest point, he happened across Miriam Schrock in town. He slowed his scooter and, for once, she actually stopped to speak to him.

“You're an interesting person, Jesse Stoltzfus,” Miriam Schrock said. “Most interesting.” A smile flickered in her eyes, and then it was gone and she went on her way. Yet for Jesse it was enough. Being interesting was a good thing in his book. He felt himself smile in return and then heard himself laugh.

Instantly, Jesse's gloominess lifted.

By Tuesday evening, David realized that the Bent N' Dent store had far fewer usual customers than the previous week. By Friday of that week, sales for the week had declined by two-thirds. It troubled him to ponder why, but his hunch was confirmed when Gertie Zook and Lizzie King came into the store. A whisper fanned like a breeze across the store. “A man who can't control his family certainly can't be expected to lead a church.”

“Gertie,” Lizzie scolded, “stop your gossiping.”

Gossip. The whisper in the wind.

Gertie Zook was the worst gossip among their people. She'd been sticking her meddlesome and inquisitive nose into others' affairs for so long that the Plain had started calling her Grapevine Gertie to her face. She didn't seem to mind, but then she did have quite a few grapevines in her garden and David sometimes wondered if she just didn't understand the pun.

As David rang up their purchases, he kept his smile steady. Sometimes, though, he wanted to just grab people by the shoulders and give them a good shake until they realized what was important.

Saturday dawned so bright and sunny it almost made David forget the gloom of the previous week. He walked around the store, coffee cup in hand, trying to decide where to start the day's work.

He heard the sound of a horse and buggy in the parking lot and peered out the window to see who had arrived. Mary Mast climbed out of the buggy and hitched her horse to the post. His first customer of the day, which he took as a good sign. He watched her smooth out her apron and straighten her bonnet—a habit Anna had too. He felt a little catch in his throat, but he swallowed it back.

He had succumbed to Katrina's urging and given some thought to courting Mary Mast. He didn't know her well, but she had a pleasant nature and seemed to enjoy his children, and she was certainly appealing. Most of her appeal, though, was that she seemed interested in him. Quite, quite interested. After Katrina had brought her for dinner that one time, she had dropped by the store every other day though
she lived two towns over. But this week, her visits had stopped and David noticed.

Last evening, he left a phone message for Mary Mast, inviting her to go on a picnic tomorrow afternoon at Blue Lake Pond. He said it might be one of the last warm days before winter settled in for a stay, so they should enjoy the good weather while it lasted. It had been a long time since he'd noticed a woman, and he gave thanks to God for this budding relationship. It was a welcome distraction from the more serious issues he faced.

As she reached the front steps, she paused for a moment in the morning sun, and he was caught by her attractiveness. She had a pair of the nicest lips he'd ever seen on a woman—full and wide. David pulled open the door for Mary, giving her a warm smile. “Good morning, Mary. Can I talk you into a cup of coffee? Fresh brewed.”

Mary smiled in return, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. “No, but thank you, David.”

Something wasn't right. He felt awkward and uncertain. “Is anything wrong?”

Mary put her hands together. “Is it true? About your oldest daughter? Being . . . with child?”

Good grief. Had such news traveled two towns over? “Yes, it's true.”

“And she's not going to marry the father?”

“No. He's engaged to someone else.”

“So she's going to raise the baby alone?”

“She's chosen to raise the baby. But she won't be alone. I'll be helping her, so will the rest of the family. And the community. I have a hope and prayer that there will be a wonderful man in her future who will come alongside her and be a father
to her child.” Unexpectedly, an image of Andy Miller came to mind. He was quite touched when he learned how Andy had intervened with the gambler and paid off Jesse's debt. Intuition whispered there was something between Andy and Katrina, some fledgling attraction. He had noticed from the first that Katrina was entirely herself around him—something she had never seemed to be around John.

Mary Mast tucked her chin against her chest. “It must be awful—having this sort of scandal in your family. Being a minister and all.”

David felt his neck turn red, and the fingers of his right hand clench involuntarily. “I feel what any father would feel about the situation. I don't deny that the news gave me pause. But my soul is glad.”

She lifted her eyes. “Glad?”

“A child always brings joy.”

“And then . . . your son, Jesse . . . I heard he was arrested for the murder of a gambler.”

“Murder?” How had that rumor circulated? “No murder, no arrest, but he was brought in to the police station for questioning.”

“And one of your other daughters—she tried to blind a boy in school?”

“What? No. Ruthie never tried to
blind
Luke, she was just trying to teach him a lesson—never mind. It's a long story.”

“And then I heard the worst thing of all. That you encouraged a man in the hospital to be . . . ,” she searched for the right word, “. . . euthanized.”

“
What
?
” If the death of Ephraim Yoder wasn't so tragic, nor so fresh and raw in his heart, he would have laughed.
Ludicrous! How did rumors like these get started? Who was behind them? And how and when would they end?

Mary seemed to have that answer. She bit her lip. “David, there's talk of having you quieted.”

David made a raw, gasping sound.
Quieted.
It was the Amish way to have a church leader removed. Silenced. Other bishops would come in for a hearing, to listen to the charges laid against him by the church members. If they decided there was enough evidence, a minister or bishop could be replaced.

“I came by to let you know that I won't be able to go on the picnic tomorrow.”

He swallowed, trying to get past the lump in his throat. “Not tomorrow? Or not ever?”

“Not . . . ever.”

“I see.” But he didn't. Not really.

“I'm sorry, David. I had a hope there might be something blooming between us.”

“So did I, Mary. I had a similar hope. But I've learned that there's far more to the Christian life than getting it right. There's living it right. Living it means working through the ordinary stuff.”

“What you're dealing with isn't exactly . . . ordinary.” She looked down at her hands, which were twisted in a knot in her apron. She unclenched them and smoothed out the bunched material. When she raised her head again, there was resolution in her eyes. “Being a minister's wife—”