Unforeseeable (18 page)

“He's such a nice man,” I said.

“Yes, he is,” Lizzie said. “I can't help but compare him to John Lapp. They both lost their wives around the same time. John has become even nastier, yet Bud has kept his kind temperament.”

“Does Bud go to church?” I asked.

Lizzie shook her head. “And don't think I haven't wanted to ask him to ours.”

“Then why don't you?”

“She's afraid he'll be snubbed,” Noah said.

“Surely not. We wouldn't do that.”

“When's the last time anyone who wasn't Mennonite darkened our doors?” Lizzie asked.

I couldn't think of anyone except for Ruby, but I was sure Lizzie was talking about an adult, not a child. “Is . . . is that right?” I asked. “I mean, wouldn't Jesus expect us to welcome everyone?”

“Yes, he would,” Noah said emphatically. “And so would I.”

“We're just not sure about some of the other elders or members,” Lizzie said. “And I can't put Bud through that.”

I didn't say anything, but the idea that our church would turn away people who needed the Lord made me ache inside. Surely that didn't please God.

Noah held out his empty plate and Lizzie took it.

“Boy, you were hungry,” she said with a smile.

“Famished. Now I'm warm, comfy, and sleepy.”

Lizzie handed the plate to Charity. “Cherry Bear, will you
please take Daddy's plate into the kitchen? And you can have one more cookie.”

Charity got up and took the plate from her mother. “But I gotta eat it in the kitchen again?” she asked.

“Yes, in the kitchen.”

“Okay, Mama.”

As soon as she left, Noah smiled at me. “Callie, I can't thank you enough for what you did. You may have saved my life. After you left the truck, I was worried that I'd sent you out into the storm to do the impossible. With the wind blowing so hard, I'm shocked you found your way.”

“I am too, Callie,” Lizzie said, her eyes glistening with tears. “You could have gotten lost or fallen into a snowdrift. You really shouldn't have tried it, but I'm glad you did. There's no way we can ever repay you.”

“It wasn't that bad,” I said, blushing. “To be honest, if it hadn't been for that bright light on the electric pole outside, I probably would have gotten lost. I just followed it to your house.”

Lizzie frowned, and Noah looked confused. “The electric pole?”

“Well, I thought it was on the electric pole. Maybe it's a different pole.” I got up slowly, since my chest was throbbing, and walked over to the big window in the living room. I drew the curtain back and gazed out into the front yard. It was pitch black. Not a light to be seen.

“Where is it? Did the light go out?”

Noah's eyes widened as he said, “Callie, there's no pole . . . or light out there. Never was.”

Not long after we finished eating,
Noah dozed off on the couch with Muffin curled up next to him. Lizzie decided to leave him where he was and let him sleep.

After putting Charity to bed, Lizzie and I went into the kitchen. Lizzie and Noah had rejoiced over the mysterious light that led me to their home, saying it was God guiding me through the storm. They also couldn't understand how Muffin got outside, since no one admitted to letting him out. The small dog hated going out and only did so when he had to do his duty. Then he'd run right back inside. For him to venture out alone, especially in a storm, didn't make any sense. Lizzie chalked it up to a miracle. I wanted to believe that too, but my mind searched for some other more reasonable explanation. Maybe the light had just been installed and they didn't know about it. Maybe Charity had let Muffin out and didn't want to admit it. It wasn't that I didn't believe in miracles. I did. It's just that I'd never experienced one before. Things like that happened to other people. Not to me. Why was it so hard for me to believe that God loved me enough to do something miraculous?

“I'm going to put you in the spare room,” Lizzie said. “It's
the only bedroom downstairs. You're the very first person to stay in it since it's been remodeled. Let me show it to you, and then I'll heat up some cider, and we can talk for a
while.”

“There's cider?” I asked. “I didn't notice it earlier.”

“It's in the pantry. I'll move it to the fridge so you can have some later if you want.”

I followed her through the kitchen and into the extra bedroom. It was lovely. An old iron bed sat in the middle of the room. There was an antique dresser and a beautiful carved rocking chair in the corner. A vented propane heater was mounted on the wall.

“I'll turn on the heater, but you'll want to keep it low. This room gets hot fast.”

“It really doesn't feel that cold in here.” Papa and I had used a fireplace and a couple of potbellied stoves to warm our house. For the most part, they did a fine job.

“Noah put vents all around the house. They help to keep the heat from the living room circulating through the rest of the rooms. We stay pretty warm. Some rooms are colder than others though. This room is okay now because I've been baking and the heat has drifted in here. Later tonight, it could get extremely cold. You'll appreciate the heater then. Oh, and there are several blankets and quilts in the closet. You're welcome to use any of them.”

I couldn't help but notice the quilt covering the bed. It was a log cabin quilt made out of different shades of blue. It was striking.

“That's the quilt Hope made for you, isn't it?” I asked.

Lizzie smiled. “Yes, it is. Isn't it gorgeous? She's so talented.”

“Have you ever made a quilt?”

She nodded. “When I was a child. But not since I've become an adult. I just don't have the time. How about you?”

“Yes, a few. To be honest, I haven't had much time for quilting either. When Papa got sick, I couldn't seem to find a spare moment. Besides taking care of him, helping Leah at the school, and working for you, the only time I had left was for sleeping.”

Lizzie nodded. “I understand.” She pointed at the dresser. “I'll bring some clothes down from upstairs and put them in here. Nightgowns and other things.” She smiled at me. “I'm having a tough time getting used to you in my clothes. You look like someone else.”

“I really don't feel like myself. I asked Papa once if I could stop wearing my prayer covering all the time. You know, like you do. He said no. Said if I didn't wear it, I would be dishonoring God.”

“Do you think I'm dishonoring God, Callie?” Lizzie asked quietly.

“Of course not. I know you love God.”

“I wear a prayer covering on Sundays because it's expected. But God isn't honored by what we wear. He's honored by our love for Him. Our obedience to Him because of that
love.”

“But all the women wear coverings except you,” I said. “Why? If it isn't necessary, why do we do it?”

“Let's get that cider, and I'll try to answer your question. But you must remember something. The only person you should follow is God. Not me. All I can do is tell you what I believe. You have to decide what
you
believe for yourself.”

As I followed her into the kitchen, I couldn't help thinking that I'd really rather have someone just tell me what to think
and do. Papa always seemed to have the answers, so I didn't have to make many decisions. Life was easier that way, but in my heart, I knew it wasn't right.

“Sit down,” Lizzie said. “I'll start heating the cider.”

I slipped into the wooden nook Noah had built into the corner of the kitchen. An oil lamp on the table added to the cozy feeling in the room, although most of the light came from another propane lamp mounted on the wall.

“Are you ready to talk about Mary?” I asked.

Lizzie shook her head. “Not yet. If you don't mind, let's discuss her later. Honestly, right now I'd rather concentrate on Noah . . . and you. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” I was being completely honest. My mind was so full of thoughts, I felt that if I tried to put one more thing in it, it might explode.

The storm outside wailed in the dark. Sometimes the sound reminded me of a child crying. Sitting in Lizzie's house, I felt safe and secure. As if nothing bad could possibly get in. Somewhere out there a killer sat, probably hearing the same storm. Was he planning his next evil deed? The thought gave me chills, and not the kind caused by the cold.

I decided to bring up a question I'd been waiting to ask. “Lizzie, did you and Noah stop by the church the night of the storm?” I tried to sound casual. The last thing I wanted was to alert Lizzie to the fact that I was trying to worm information out of her.

“Yes, but Levi was having a counseling session.” She sighed. “We told him about the storm, and that he needed to get home, but obviously he didn't listen.”

“Yes, Aaron Metcalf was still there when I arrived,” I said.

Lizzie was busy pouring cider into a pan, which she set
on the stove. The flame under the burner made a whooshing sound when she turned it on.

“Aaron Metcalf?” She shook her head. “He wasn't there when we stopped by. Levi was with Margaret Harper.”

Margaret's presence wasn't a surprise. I already knew she saw Levi frequently. Not so much for counseling, but to get help from the church. I was pretty certain the frail woman wasn't a serial killer.

“I wonder who else he saw that night. Maybe they took so long that Aaron's appointment got pushed back.”

Lizzie snorted. “That's entirely possible. John Lapp was leaving as we pulled up. You know how self-centered he is.”

“John Lapp?” I couldn't keep the surprise out of my voice. “Why in the world would he go to Levi for counseling if he thinks he doesn't qualify to be our pastor? That doesn't make sense.”

“I have no idea. I was as shocked as you are. Maybe it had something to do with Frances's death.”

“Maybe.” John Lapp? What was it the sheriff said? To be on the lookout for someone who had experienced a change in their life? “Lizzie, weren't John and Frances married about twenty years?”

Lizzie turned to look at me. “Not quite twenty years, I think. Not too many people know this, but my mother told me John was married when he was younger. His wife died tragically.”

I felt my heart race. “I'd never heard that. Do you know how she died?”

“Mother told me, but I'm not sure I remember. Seems like it was some kind of accident or something.” She frowned at me. “Why?”

I took a deep breath. “Lizzie, remember what the sheriff
said? To look for someone whose life has changed in some way? Someone who starts acting oddly?”

After staring at me a moment, Lizzie burst out laughing. “You think old John Lapp is a serial killer? Oh, Callie. Really.”

I bristled at her attitude. “Look, the killer murdered women twenty years ago. Right about the time John gets married to Frances, the killings stopped. Then Frances dies, and the murders start again. Isn't this exactly what Sheriff Timmons was talking about?”

Lizzie turned around and took the cider off the burner. She was quiet for a moment. “But he isn't acting any differently.”

“Yes, he is. He didn't oppose Levi's election at the time of his appointment. Now, suddenly, he tries to start a campaign against him.”

“Well, maybe. . . but I don't think John Lapp could kill anyone. That man's blood is pure Mennonite. You know how we feel about violence.”

“Then what about Aaron?” I said. “You know there's some kind of secret from his past that the elders won't reveal. Don't you find that suspicious? And Aaron isn't old. He could certainly kill a woman.”

“For crying out loud, Callie. First of all, Aaron isn't old enough to have killed anyone twenty years ago.”

“I know that,” I snapped. “But he could be copying the murders. We don't know what his secret is, Lizzie. Maybe he killed someone else.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “Aaron moved here from Iowa. He couldn't have heard something about a serial killer in Kansas that wasn't even considered a serial killer until recently.” She took a deep breath. “Besides, his secret has nothing to do with murder.”

My mouth dropped open in surprise. “You know what it is? How could you?”

She grinned. “Let's just say that running a restaurant affords me lots of chances to overhear things.”

“I don't know if you should repeat . . .”

She looked around the corner, making sure Noah was still asleep. After checking, she leaned in close to me. “I can't have you thinking poor Aaron is a crazed murderer. The truth is, he's divorced.”

“Divorced? Is that all?”

Lizzie straightened up. “In our church, that's pretty major. His wife left him for another man. When he came here, he wanted to start fresh. That's why he went to the elders and told them. Even Noah and Levi don't know. I overheard Elder Wittsman talking about it to Elder Scheer. They didn't realize I was standing behind them at the time.”

I frowned as I considered this information. “Doesn't mean he isn't a murderer,” I said softly.

“Oh, for crying out loud. Why are you—” Lizzie poured the cider into two mugs, picked them up, and carried them to the table. She sat down and eyed me suspiciously. “Wait a minute. First you try to find out who Levi met with last night, and now you think Aaron or John might be a murderer. Why? Did Levi tell you something that made you suspicious of them?”

“Oh, Lizzie.” I tried to say more, but I choked up.

“Callie, what's wrong?” She reached across the table and took my hand. “You can tell me, honey. What's going on?”

I fought to gain control of myself, but it took a few seconds. Finally, I said, “If . . . if I tell you, will you keep it between us? Levi would be so upset if he knew I said something.”

“Whatever you say will stay between us. You know that.”

I nodded. There was no one in my life I trusted more than Lizzie. I cleared my throat, still unsure about revealing something Levi had told me in confidence. What if he found out? Would he ever trust me again? My concern for the safety of other women who might be in danger made me decide to confide in Lizzie.

“Lizzie,” I said slowly, “I believe Levi knows who the serial killer is.”

Lizzie's eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. “Callie! Are you serious?”

I wiped the tears off my face with the back of my hand. “He told me that himself.”

She turned her head sideways and looked at me suspiciously. “Exactly what did he tell you?”

I tried hard to think back on our conversation. “He was upset after his counseling session yesterday. I asked him if it had anything to do with the murders.”

“And what did he say?”

“He didn't deny it.”

Lizzie let go of my hand and sank back into her chair. “He didn't deny it? Oh, Callie. That doesn't mean he knows who the killer is. Maybe he just didn't want to say anything else about his sessions. You know what's said in counseling is—”

“Confidential,” I said with a big sigh. “I've heard that enough lately, thank you.”

“What in the world makes you think he's keeping something secret that would help the investigation?”

“It's just . . .” I could feel irritation replace worry. “Look, Lizzie. You weren't there. I could tell he was concerned about the murders. He heard something that's connected to them in some way. You'll just have to trust me.”

Lizzie looked unconvinced. “Did you ask him directly if that was true?”

“I . . . I think so.” Had I? I couldn't remember exactly what I'd said.

“And how did Levi respond?”

Levi's voice drifted into my mind, and I suddenly felt foolish. “He said that if he knew something that would stop the murders, he'd go to the sheriff.”

Lizzie shook her head. “Callie, I love you to pieces, but you've blown this way out of proportion. Turned it into something it isn't.” She picked up her cup and stared at me. I looked away, not wanting to meet her eyes. “You're going to have to learn to trust Levi, or your marriage has no hope. You know that, right?”

“But I know it has something to do with these killings.”

Lizzie sighed. “And how do you know that?”

“Like I said, he didn't deny it.”

Lizzie took a sip of her cider and then put the cup down on the table. “Callie, has it occurred to you that it could be something besides a confession of murder?”

“Like what, Lizzie? What else could someone possibly say that's connected to these killings? Something that upset Levi so much? I can't think of a thing.”