A Marriage for Meghan (26 page)

“Where will you stay?”

“I suppose I’ll move back to the Best Western. It was a nice room, and they serve a decent breakfast buffet each morning. Plus, it was reasonably priced for the U.S. taxpayer.” Thomas felt like one of those annoying television infomercials.

Gideon reflected for a moment. “We have an empty
dawdi haus
. Eventually Ruth and I will move there and give James this house after he marries, but I’m not ready to be put out for pasture yet.” A ghost of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “It’s fully furnished and quite comfortable. We use it whenever we get relatives from out of town.”

“Oh, no, sir. I couldn’t accept—”

The bishop waved his hand. “No freebies. I would charge you, young man. You could pay me the same rate you would pay the hotel. And my Ruth could serve your breakfast right here.” He thumped the table with his knuckles. “I would make a little money for the district’s medical fund, and you would be closer to your investigation.”

Thomas thought about the idea and couldn’t come up with any reason not to go along with it, except for the fact innkeeper Yost probably didn’t take Visa or MasterCard. “If you’ll accept a check from the bureau every week or two in the mail, that should work out fine.” He stretched out his hand.

“
Jah
, a check would be all right.” Gideon shook heartily. “Breakfast will be at seven prompt. We don’t sleep late around here.”

“I don’t either. Seven will be great.” Mast pulled his pen and notebook from a pocket. “And now that we’ve settled the matter of my accommodations, I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”

The bishop’s smile faded as his expression turned resigned but determined. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

M
eghan walked home from school with a heavy tote bag of teacher manuals and an even heavier heart. Yesterday had been the district singing, but she hadn’t attended. Not after Jacob’s astounding announcement…or her impetuous response. Why had his declaration of love so surprised her? Catherine always said that he loved her. And in a private corner of her heart, she had always known it.

Yet his forthright proclamation that they should marry in the fall startled her. What happened to officially courting? Romantic, slowpaced buggy rides home from social events on back roads. Strolls through the orchard to the waterfall, holding hands if nobody was nearby. A chance meeting of their eyes during preaching service, along with a smile reserved only for each other.

Instead, Jacob came to a decision by his own determination, similar to choosing between Percherons or Belgians for his next plow horses. Meghan ground her teeth with the same irritation she’d felt that afternoon in the schoolyard. If this kept up, she would crack every one of her back molars.

And yet…she should have discussed the matter with him rationally instead of flying off the handle. But she wasn’t ready to marry someone so bossy and domineering—a man who would make decisions without even asking her opinion. And she certainly wasn’t ready to give up the dream of her own classroom someday. Maybe the members of the school board would grind her dream under their boot heels, but for now she would work hard and continue to improve. And she would pray that God would bring the right man for her—someone soft-spoken and malleable—when the time was right.

Hefting her tote bag higher on her shoulder, she lengthened her strides. Tonight was her night to help
mamm
with dinner, and then she would wash dishes and rinse out a few clothes. With plenty to do before settling down with her manuals, Meghan flinched when she spotted a car in their driveway.
Who in the world comes to visit at the supper hour?

Her father must be busy with important district business. Entering through the back door, she quietly hung up her cape and bonnet and tiptoed into the kitchen. She halted one step past the doorway as her jaw dropped open.
Daed
and
mamm
were nowhere to be seen. For several seconds she stared at the sole person at the table—the FBI agent from Cleveland. Their gazes met and held until she felt herself blush and glanced away.

“Miss Yost, what a pleasure to see you again!” He scrambled to his feet.

“I live here,” she stated, setting her tote bag on the counter.
Does the color of his blue eyes really exist in nature?

“Yes, of course you do. Did I sound surprised to see you?” He laughed, ran a hand through his hair, and straightened his tie. His haphazardly scattered papers covered half the surface of their oak table.

She approached cautiously, as though encountering a large, unfamiliar stray dog. “Where are my parents?” she asked. This question was the politest one of the three that popped into her head, the other two being:
Why are you alone in our kitchen? And why have you turned our table into an office just before the dinner hour?

As though reading her mind, he shuffled his papers into tidy stacks. “Your father said he needed to visit the next-door neighbor for a while, and your mother decided to go with him.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “Your mother said she breaded chicken for you to fry, and that you are to fix parsley potatoes and green beans. Oh, and she shredded a head of cabbage for coleslaw, so all you need to do is add dressing.” He grinned as though pleased with his recollection.

“Thank you for the message. Would you like more coffee?” she asked, noticing his empty mug.

He glanced at his cup. “Why, yes. I’d love some, if it’s no trouble. Maybe you’ll join me in a cup?” His tawny complexion darkened with a flush.

An
Englischer
more flustered and out of sorts than me?
Meghan held back a giggle. “Yes. It looks as though my mother fixed a fresh pot, and I usually have an afternoon pick-me-up while I make dinner.”

“Good grief, am I in your way here?” He began shoving papers into color-coded folders.

“Not at the moment you’re not. I have to
cook
the food before we can sit down and eat it.” She offered a smile as she filled his mug and poured a cup for herself.

“Of course you do. Should I wait in the living room? Unless drinks shouldn’t be taken from this room.”

Meghan rolled her eyes. “You’re okay for now. But I must ask you, Officer, what you are waiting for if my folks are gone. Do you have questions for me?” She took a sip of her coffee.

“Apparently, I’m waiting for my common sense to return.” He lowered himself back into the chair. “I beg your pardon, Miss Yost, for not making things clear. Your parents invited me to share dinner with your family tonight. When they suggested I wait in here at the table, I decided to catch up on some paperwork. Your father answered my questions earlier. I’ve been here off and on all day, except for a trip to a quilt shop in the next district.”

While he talked, she noticed that his teeth were the whitest she’d even seen. Everything about the man’s coloring seemed to be extreme, from his blue eyes to his white teeth to his black hair. “You spoke with the two widows?” she asked as she filled two frying pans with oil.

“I did, as much as they were willing, but let’s not talk about that anymore. How was your day? Were those boys a pack of rascals or well behaved?”

“School went well today. Other than some of my eighth graders failing their spelling test, we suffered no major mishaps.” She cast a curious glance over her shoulder.

“No further mischief in the classroom?” he persisted.

“None.
Our
crisis seems to have passed.” Meghan lined up pieces of chicken in the skillets, turned on the burners, and dumped some green beans into a saucepan. “And one mystery, at least, has been solved.” She turned around to meet his gaze.

He watched her intently. “Would you care to share the details with me, Miss Yost?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” She felt beads of sweat form across her hairline beneath her
kapp.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciated the tip you gave us a while back. It was the only helpful information I’d received until I spoke with your dad today.”

She wiped her damp palms down her apron, unable to hide a shocked expression. “It was? That little tidbit I heard from Mr. Santos about the campground?”

“It was. The sheriff and I drove out there the next day. Frankly, those men are our most likely suspects.”

Meghan diced the potatoes into small cubes, deciding how to proceed. “I don’t know how you can do your job if no one will help.”

“That’s exactly right.” He met her gaze over the rim of his coffee cup. His cool blue eyes bored through her like two sharp needles.

In the time it took Meghan to dump the potatoes into a pot of water, she’d made up her mind. “All right. I’ll tell you, but I hope I don’t live to regret it. I’ve not told anyone this story other than my sister Catherine.”

“I appreciate it, Miss Yost.” He gestured toward a chair as though she were the guest instead of him.

Meghan sat down to speak as softly as possible, even though no one else was home. “Last week I used an idea I learned from Joanna, the former teacher. At the end of the day, we wrote our names on slips of paper and put the papers in a hat, including the teachers’ names. Everyone drew out a name. Come Monday morning, we were to fix a lunch for the person whose name we had drawn. The rule was you must prepare the lunch yourself, and not let your
mamm
or other family member do it. Pity little Harriett. She was probably expecting something grand when I called her name and delivered the sack. But it was only PB and J on white bread, store-bought cookies and an apple—a rather small apple at that. But I did put in a can of root beer,” she added sheepishly.

Agent Mast thinned his lips into a slight smile. It was an expression she received often from her
daed
.

“Well, Owen Shockley had drawn my name,” she continued. “Can you believe it? The Lord works in mysterious ways. He packed me a nice meatloaf sandwich on a hoagie bun, with bread-and-butter pickles and chips. And he stuck in a bottle of Arizona Raspberry Tea—amazing! How could that child know my favorites?” Meghan paused to get up, turn the pieces of chicken in both frying pans, and lower the heat on the stove. When she returned to the table, the agent had settled back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“Go on,” he prompted.

“When I unwrapped the waxed paper on the sandwich, I found a note inside that I hid in my pocket until I could read it privately.”

“What did it say, Miss Yost?” He sipped his coffee but didn’t stop watching her.

“It said ‘I am very sorry I messed up the school. I feel bad because you turned out to be an okay teacher, even nice sometimes. I told
mamm
and
daed
the truth. They said I had to confess and take what you dish out. But they didn’t say it had to be face-to-face. I’m real sorry and I hope you forgive me. Owen S. P.S. My
daed
already punished me, but if you turn me over to the sheriff, I’ll go quietly.’”

Meghan recounted the note from memory, word-for-word. She had read it many times. “But I
don’t
want to turn him over to anybody,” she said. “I told him I forgave him, we shook hands, and the matter is done and forgotten. Do you understand that, Officer Mast?” That last sentence came out with some intensity.

He lifted one eyebrow. “I do indeed, Miss Yost, loud and clear.”

She felt color rise up her neck as she shifted her weight in the chair. “Beg your pardon for getting snippy, but I’ve watched your English TV reporters when I worked as a nanny. They claim ‘Updates—new developments in the story,’ but then they rehash the same old information everyone already heard. That doesn’t do anything except keep folks riled up. When things are finished, we Amish like to forget about them as best we can.”

He smiled in that slow, sweet way like her
grossmammi
used to do. “I couldn’t agree with you more about TV newscasters. In fact, I’ve said the very same thing to my friends many times.”

“You have?” she asked, growing uncomfortable under his close scrutiny. She refilled his coffee cup.

“I have, so don’t worry. Consider the matter of the schoolhouse closed. I’ll need to inform Sheriff Strickland, but Owen will not be named in the final report. Only that a juvenile and his parents came to a satisfactory resolution with the teaching staff. Your secret is safe.”

She walked back to the stove to check the potatoes. “It’s not really a secret. I’m just picking the right time to tell my father. Now, if you don’t mind, I should finish getting supper ready.” She looked pointedly at his stack of folders on the kitchen table.