A Marriage for Meghan (40 page)

By keeping both woodstoves burning around the clock, Gideon’s family stayed safe and warm at home. Other than tending to the livestock, his sons studied seed catalogs in the front room or played board games with their sisters. Ruth sewed and baked great batches of cookies, as though sweets would offer pleasant distraction. His girls also worked on the end-of-year reports for each student and gazed longingly out of frosty windowpanes.

Gideon had invited Thomas Mast to the main house, but the man had refused. He said he had plenty of books to read and overdue letters to write to long-lost relatives. With plenty of his own worries, the bishop didn’t further inquire. The storm provided Gideon three days to select a course for the rest of his life. His personal actions of the past several months weighed heavily on his mind. By involving the law, he’d subjected the widows and the Glen Yoder family to constant interruption and an invasion of privacy. They had to contend with reporters and cameramen practically camping out in their yards. Due to his zeal to find those who had beaten his sons, an innocent man may have been unjustly jailed.

If he didn’t like Plain folk before, what would his opinion be now?

And more recently, he’d all but accused Agent Mast of being forward with his daughter. Mast’s reaction to such a charge had been unmistakable. He had lived within their community for weeks, trying to find some elusive thug who might have already moved away. And as a reward for his diligence, Gideon had accused him of
flirting
. Shame filled his throat like stomach bile. He called himself a man of God—a leader among his Christian congregation, a man others looked to for guidance and leadership. And what did Scripture say about religious leaders? First Timothy 3:2 said, “An elder must be a man whose life is above reproach. He must be faithful to his wife. He must exercise self-control, live wisely, and have a good reputation. He must enjoy having guests in his home, and he must be able to teach.” The Amish
Ordnung
placed the role of bishop as the primary spiritual leader of the district. It was his job to interpret and enforce district regulations and resolve matters of disobedience and dispute. However, he was expected to consult his two ministers and deacon. And matters involving the outside world were always subject to debate. Any major changes to rules governing the district were brought to the twice-yearly congregational meeting and openly discussed by everyone.

Only a vain, prideful man acted of his own will.

“What’s troubling you?” Ruth’s question interrupted his internal monologue. Gideon spilled his cup of tea down his shirt.

“
Ach
, I was contemplating how much extra laundry I make for you,
fraa
.”

“What else do I have to do in this weather? I can’t plant my garden yet, and there are only so many pies, cookies, and loaves of bread this family can eat.” Ruth handed him a wet dishrag and settled into the chair closest to the woodstove. “You’re in here alone?”

“
Jah
, the boys are outside checking the fences. Not a good night for any livestock to go astray.”

“All right. Tell me what’s bothering you,
ehemann
. You’ve been distracted and distant for several days, and I don’t believe it has anything to do with the weather.”

“You possess the wisdom of Job.” Gideon drummed his fingertips on the tabletop. His wife crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation. “I must admit I have been troubled lately. I’ve made poor choices—bad for my family, bad for my congregation, even bad for
Englischers
I have never met. I acted rashly, letting panic cloud my judgment.”

“You feared for the safety of your daughters and sons,” said Ruth.

“Every Christian knows fear is the handiwork of the devil. It’s how he weakens our faith and our ability to serve God in all things. I should never have fallen prey to anger by seeking recourse in the English court system. Retribution is the Lord’s domain, not man’s.”

“True enough, Gideon. But the last time I looked you were human, and thus imperfect by definition. God doesn’t expect perfection, only that we mend our ways when we veer from the path.”

“A bishop should be held to a higher standard. How can I lead my flock if I can’t trust my own judgment?”

“That’s why there are three other ministerial brethren in a district.”

“Whom I didn’t always consult before making decisions.” Gideon dropped his head into his hands, overwhelmed with his personal inadequacy. “I had planned to call them for a meeting to tell them of my decision. Then this snowstorm hit. I won’t have them leaving their homes until the weather improves. That would have been another poor choice on my part.”

Ruth reached out to grasp his arm. “Tell them what? What decision have you come to?” Her gentle face filled with alarm.

“That perhaps I should step down as bishop and have another chosen to serve in my place—a person with a clear head on his shoulders.”

“That is never done, Gideon. You selected the hymnbook containing a Scripture verse on a slip of paper—you, among the other candidates. It was divine appointment through the drawing of lots. You are to serve for life.”

“And if I am not worthy of this honor?”

Ruth shook off the notion like a mosquito on her arm. “Nonsense. You’re a kind and dutiful man, committed to God and to serving his community. You’re as worthy as any other.”

Gideon lifted his chin. “I have prayed about this at great length, asking for forgiveness and direction. As the Savior instructed, ‘Not my will, but thine, be done.’ Believe me, I haven’t arrived at this point without much soul-searching. I have begged for a sign from the Lord—something to let me know that I should stay this course.”

Ruth lifted an eyebrow. “And when did you request this sign?”

Gideon paused to think before answering. “Five days ago, I believe.”

She rose gracefully to her feet and walked across the kitchen. “If you sought a sign, dear husband, perhaps you should consider our little part of the world. Columbus, Cincinnati, and the rest of the state are enjoying normal spring weather.” She opened the seldom-used side door to reveal a wall of snow. “Perhaps a monumental one has been delivered to you after all.”

A few weeks later a voice over the scratchy intercom caused Thomas to practically jump from his chair. He was staring at the computer monitor in his assigned cubicle, where he’d sequestered himself for several days. He wanted to review every piece of evidence they had sent to the bureau for analysis. “Agent Mast?”

“Yes, this is Thomas Mast,” he said, holding down the intercom button.

“There’s a John King down here who’d like to speak to you,” said a dispatcher. “He says he’s Justin King’s father.”

The mental image of a gaunt, middle-aged man in a stained shirt came to mind, along with a dozen questions regarding the impromptu visit. “Send him up to the third floor. I’ll meet him when he gets off the elevator. And thanks.”

Thomas pushed back from the desk with a crick in his neck and eyes blurry from staring at the screen too long. He’d reviewed every report filed by the detectives working the case for something they had missed. And they
had
to have missed something. The ball cap found in the bushes by the quilt shop contained no DNA other than their former suspect’s. He had listened over and over to the audiotapes of the session with James and John Yost. They could not pick out one man’s southern twang over another’s. No evidence had been left at the fire at the Esh farm, which had been declared arson by investigators. By the time detectives arrived, fireman and Amish neighbors had obliterated any boot or shoe impressions around the foundation while fighting the blaze. And the spray paint can found conveniently under the King family camper? It contained only one partial fingerprint from an unknown source—not Justin King’s, and not anyone’s in the law enforcement database. So as cases go, this one was as dead as the tulips growing outside his door a week ago. Thomas walked to the elevators, curious about the nature of his unexpected visit.

“Agent Mast?” asked Mr. King as the door opened. “Good to see ya again.”

Thomas stretched out a hand. “Good to see you, Mr. King. Let’s talk in the conference room down the hall.” After shaking hands, he led the way to a small room complete with six comfortable chairs, an oak table, and coffeemaker with a bone-dry pot. Thomas pointed to one chair and took the opposite across the well-polished surface. “How is your son?” he asked after a brief hesitation. “Did he follow up on that lead at the Ford dealership?”

King’s weathered face dissolved into a mass of wrinkles. “That’s part of the reason I’m here. That Mr. Blake asked Justin in for an interview the same day he called. Justin took his résumé and letters of reference from a former teacher and his high school football coach.” The man beamed with paternal pride. “The manager grilled him for an hour about the type of repair work he’d done and where he’d worked before and what kind of training he’d had. Then he bought him a sandwich from the vending machine and a cup of coffee and sat him down to take some aptitude tests the very same day.”

The expediency of Mr. Blake apparently astounded the elder Mr. King. “Good, good,” said Thomas. “Mack’s not a man who wastes time or beats around the bush.”

“Well, the manager said he would review what you sent him, along with the test results and Justin’s résumé, and then let him know.” King’s eyes grew large and round. “Blake called him the next day and offered him the job! And Justin started work the day after that. He’s been there almost two weeks now.” King couldn’t look more pleased.

“How’s the job working out for him?” asked Mast, already knowing the answer.

“Good. He likes the work and the other mechanics seem like nice guys. They have good health insurance that includes dental coverage. He’s real happy about that since my granddaughter will need braces down the line. Plus, they match whatever money the employees pay into the retirement plan and offer seven paid holidays per year.” King suddenly clamped his mouth closed. “Man, I’m just running on and on, aren’t I?”

“I’m glad Mack hired him, and I hope things work out. I might have been wrong about your son.”

“Well, maybe so on some counts. But I didn’t drive all the way to Wooster just to say thanks for the job recommendation.” He squinted as though the ceiling fluorescent lights hurt his eyes.

Thomas waited, stretching out his legs under the table.

“My nephews heard something in the social center at Misty Meadows.”

“The social center?” asked Thomas. The term seemed like a bizarre oxymoron in the half-empty campground.

King laughed. “Yeah, that’s what the sign on the metal building says anyway. Mainly it’s a pole barn with a couple of pool tables, Foosball, and some card tables with a stack of board games. Oh, and there’s sort of a kitchen, but the water’s turned off.” He shook his head.

“What exactly did your nephews hear?” Thomas tamped down his growing interest.

“There’s a guy living out at Misty Meadows permanently in a rundown trailer. He’s in the last spot around the back of the pond. He keeps to himself—doesn’t usually socialize. He’s gotten into jams with the other residents because he squirrel hunts in the woods behind the campground. Folks with kids or pets don’t want shooting in the neighborhood.”

Thomas nodded. “That’s understandable.”

“One night this guy shows up wanting to shoot some pool with the boys. They could tell he’d been drinking. He was slurring his words and couldn’t sink a ball to save his life. He starts going on and on about Amish people—how tough the rules are, how close-minded the preachers are, and how much he hated the life. Turns out this guy used to be Amish and got kicked out. He never got around to saying what he’d done wrong because after a while he just wandered out the door as mysteriously as he wandered in. Right in the middle of a game of eight ball.”

Thomas forced his expression to remain neutral. “Did he mention any retaliation against his former district?”

“Nah. That’s what my nephews were waiting for, but no. They did say this guy especially hated his former Amish bishop because the guy had the final say-so in his getting shunned.”

Thomas rose to his feet and placed his palms flat against the table. There would be no tamping down his excitement now. “He didn’t happen to introduce himself while at the Misty Meadows Social Center, did he?”

John King grinned. “Nope. Like I said, he was real private and secretive. But since one good turn deserved another, I did a little footwork and found out the guy’s name from the park manager.”