Death of a Winter Shaker (20 page)

“Are you feeling any better?” she asked. She spoke in a conversational voice, even though Agatha lay silent, deep in a coma. Rose wanted to believe that she could hear, even so. She rocked the cradle and gazed around the room. A bed and another cradle were empty, with fresh sheets and blankets pulled tight over them. They were alone. Rose slid her chair closer to Agatha.

“I wish you could tell me what to do, my friend,” she said. “Sheriff Brock has issued a warrant for Molly's arrest. Gennie is convinced that Molly is innocent and in danger and that we should try to find her before the sheriff does. Perhaps she is right. Molly could have killed Johann, certainly. She was furious with him, and she is such an undisciplined creature. But I am having doubts.” She frowned and leaned in closer.

“Gennie told me that Molly was receiving worldly
gifts, lipstick and so forth. That's what Gennie called them, gifts. But I don't think that's what they were. I couldn't say this to Gennie, she would become even more frightened for Molly, but it makes more sense to me that these so-called gifts were payment for something. Perhaps for carnal favors. Or perhaps for her silence.”

A shaft of sunlight spilled through the window and shone on Agatha's unseeing eyes. Rose pulled the light curtains together.

“So, if Molly did not do the killing, we are left, I believe, with five people who had reasons to hate or fear Johann. Wilhelm knew him to be a fornicator who preyed on Shaker sisters, and Wilhelm's love for the Society is boundless. But I suspect there was more. He desperately wants Elsa to be the next eldress. He would then have almost total control over us, and we'd have no choice but to follow him.”

Rose wandered to the window overlooking the medic garden. Too many possibilities bounced around in her mind, and she struggled to arrange them in a logical sequence.

“What if there is something about Elsa, something that could prevent her appointment as eldress,” she said more to herself than to Agatha. “And what if Johann knew what it was? Sheriff Brock hinted that Elsa was unfaithful to her husband. Johann could have heard all sorts of rumors while he stayed on the Pike farm. Maybe there is something in her recent past or even her present that Elsa doesn't want known.”

She began to pace the length of the cradle bed.

“Gennie said that she encountered Wilhelm in the cemetery the other night when she went out to look for Molly, and Molly's relationship with Johann could have given her the opportunity to learn what Johann knew. Might Wilhelm have been giving Molly gifts to keep silence about Elsa's past?”

“Elsa has the same reason to fear Johann. If he
revealed what he had learned about her, Elsa might never become eldress. And she does so want to be eldress.” Rose heard the scorn in her own voice and tried to soften her tone. “Who's to say, maybe she should be.”

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Rose glanced at the open door of the sickroom. She got up and checked the hallway. It was still and empty, but just to be sure, she closed the door before continuing through her list.

“Charity could be involved, I'm sorry to say. I suspect that she had more of a relationship with Johann than she was willing to admit. She has been deeply troubled about something recently. And she could never risk being sent from North Homage; it might destroy her.

“Then there's Albert Preston,” she said in a quieter voice. “We know so little about his past, and he was seen arguing angrily with Johann. His clothes were on Johann's body, remember.

“And finally, Seth Pike. I've added Seth to the list, Agatha. I know that won't surprise you.” Rose laughed softly. “You never liked him, did you? Perhaps you were right. He rode the rails with Johann. They might have had a falling-out that he doesn't want us to know about. Albert found him hanging around the Herb House after the murder, too.”

A dull pain was forming behind Rose's eyes. She settled back in her chair and rubbed her temples.

“You know,” she said wearily, “something is eluding me. These five may have strong enough reasons to kill Johann, but why arrange his body in the herb-drying room? It just doesn't make sense.”

The bell over the Meetinghouse chimed twelve times.

“It's time for lunch, Agatha,” Rose said, “though even good Shaker food doesn't appeal to me just now. I've sent Gennie on an afternoon picnic with the children, so at least she'll escape from this for a time.”
She leaned over Agatha's still face to kiss her good-bye. Each time she did so, she wondered if it would be the last.

“Perhaps I should not have told you all this. If you can hear me, it will only upset you, and you can do nothing about it. This time it's up to me. Rest well, my friend.”

The apple orchard sparkled like a fairyland to Gennie, as the sun peeked through the broken clouds and glittered off the ripening fruit. Much as she loved the Herb House, she was glad to be outside and without work to do. True, she was to help supervise the children, but she didn't mind that. There weren't many of them, most went to orphanages these days, and they were mostly good children. Gennie liked children, which made her think about having her own, which made her think about Grady.

She helped Sister Charlotte shoo the children away from the unpicked fruit and toward an area of the orchard that was already harvested. They found a pleasant spot, dappled with the growing sunlight, and spread out blankets. Once they opened the large picnic baskets, the children gathered around, chattering and laughing.

“Ooh, I want some lemon pie!” said a seven-year-old girl who leaned over the basket as Gennie sorted through it.

“Sandwiches first, you know that, Nora,” Gennie said, feeling grown-up.

Nora plunked down cross-legged on the blanket and kept her eyes on the pie pan, which Gennie placed out of reach of eager fingers.

After passing out sandwiches, Gennie leaned back against a tree trunk and gazed across the fields. She would have felt happy if a part of her weren't always looking for her dark-haired roommate. She slipped off her cloak and felt the warm breeze through her thin
wool dress. She even dared to loosen her bonnet when she saw that Sister Charlotte had done so. Charlotte often made known her discontent with Wilhelm's desire to take Believers back to old-fashioned dress, and Gennie liked her for it.

The fields were harvested and empty for the winter, several tilled into neat rows, ready for spring, while others were still strewn with discarded plants. In the distance, Gennie saw a bundle of hay, which made her smile as she thought about the Halloween party they were planning for the children, with apple bobbing and a hayride. She hoped that they could still have the party, with everything that was going on. It would be good for the children. Rose said she wasn't sure how the Languor townsfolk would react, since they already thought that the Shakers were witches.

Something moved next to the distant hay bale. Probably one of the brethren cleaning up the field. Gennie squinted to see if she could make out a shape.

The figure moved away from the hay bale, and Gennie recognized the long skirt and bonnet of a Shaker sister. The woman staggered in a meandering path toward the picnic area. She tripped and fell to her knees, then struggled again to her feet.

As she drew nearer, Gennie saw that the woman wore a white dress, a Sabbathday outfit. Molly had worn such an outfit when she disappeared. She must be hurt. Maybe the killer had attacked her. Gennie jumped to her feet. But immediately, she saw that the woman was stockier than Molly.

“What is it, Eugenie?” Sister Charlotte sat on the opposite edge of the group of children, farther from the fields.

“I'm not sure.”

Gennie felt a tug on her skirt and looked down at Nora's serious little face.

“It's the lady,” Nora said, mumbling through a large mouthful of cheese and bread.

Gennie knelt beside the girl. “What do you mean, Nora? Nay, chew first, then swallow. That's a good girl.”

“It's the lady. The lady!”

Gennie exchanged a puzzled glance with Charlotte.

“The lady I saw before.” Nora scrunched her mouth in irritation at Gennie's slowness.

Snatches of a melody, sung by a powerful voice, reached the orchard. It was Elsa, her bonnet slipping to the side of her radiant face. She raised her hands, as she had in the dancing worship, and twirled joyfully, singing her own dance tune. Her cloth shoes were caked with mud. Her swirling feet kicked up clumps of rich, black dirt that splattered the edge of her once-white dress.

“Charlotte?” The alarm in Gennie's voice brought the sister to her side. “This is how she was at worship, did you see?”

“Yea, indeed,” Charlotte said with clear disapproval.

“Is it a trance, do you suppose, or something else?”

“Something else, I'd say. Children, move back behind us now,” Charlotte said, as Elsa twirled closer to the group. The children scurried farther back into the orchard, all except Nora.

“I saw her before,” the little girl said with confidence, but she held tightly to Gennie's hand.

Elsa ignored everything but her dance. Gennie tore her eyes away and stooped again beside the child.

“Tell me where you saw her before,” she said. Nora could not be describing the worship service because Rose had kept the children from attending.

Nora sucked in her lips and gazed up at Gennie through her lashes. “I wasn't supposed to be here,” she said. “I was hungry,” she added, as if that explained everything.

“You came to get an apple?”

Nora nodded.

“And you saw Sister Elsa?” Gennie prodded.

Nora nodded again.

“Did you see her out there in the fields?”

“Nay,” Nora said, shaking her head widely side to side. “Here. She was singing and dancing with the trees, and that mean old man was here, too. He was watching.”

“Nora,” Gennie said, taking both the child's hands in her own, “who was the mean old man?”

As a girl-child, Nora had limited contact with the brethren, and Wilhelm, unlike his predecessors, ignored the children. Nora shrugged her shoulders.

“Was it the man with lots of white hair?” Gennie guessed. “Was it Elder Wilhelm?”

The girl flashed a front-toothless smile and nodded.

Elsa twirled to a halt and faced the group. Her dress was wrinkled and streaked with dirt, and straight gray hair escaped from her bonnet to hang in lank clumps across her cheeks. With an ecstatic smile, she stretched her hands toward them.

“I bring thee greetings,” she said. “From Mother Ann herself!” Her voice had shed its coarseness and rang with a vibrant richness. She even sounded a little English, or what Gennie imagined to be English.

“I think Rose should know about this,” Charlotte whispered. “I'm sending Hannah to the dining room to fetch her.”

“Nay, she won't be there,” Gennie said. “She told me she would try to talk with Wilhelm in the Ministry dining room. Maybe I should look for her.”

“I need you here,” Charlotte said, and turned to Hannah, a long-legged fourteen-year-old who looked more than willing to leave. “Try the Ministry House first,” she told the girl. Hannah picked up her skirts and ran through the trees back toward the Ministry House, which lay just beyond the orchard.

Again, Elsa danced, edging closer and closer to the group. She twirled, then hopped up and down as she
shouted nonsense syllables. The children huddled behind Charlotte and Gennie but peeked out with wide-eyed fascination.

Suddenly Elsa stopped and beamed at them. “I bring thee greetings and instructions from all the elders and eldresses who have ever lived,” she said with majestic force. “They want thee to wait no longer. They want thee to see, to know, now, who I truly am!”

As Rose and Wilhelm neared the picnic area, they heard shouting and began to run. Rose's first thoughts were for Gennie and the children. She found them all facing the field beyond the orchard, the small figures clustered behind the protective backs of Gennie and Charlotte. Rose rushed to Gennie's side and followed her eyes to Elsa, planted ankle-deep in mud with her plump arms raised, palms open to the sky.

“Mother Ann, Mother Lucy, I hear thee! I am ready to reveal who I am. It shall be done according to thy wishes.”

Wilhelm froze, his body taut, and stared at Elsa with fierce intensity.

“It must be clear to thee now,” he said to Rose, “why Elsa will be our next eldress, and the task of gathering new souls must fall to thee. Elsa has been chosen. All the Believers who went before us have come to tell us that she is chosen to be the next eldress. Just as it used to be.”

“It has been too long since Mother Ann spoke directly to one of us,” he continued. “I myself have only read about it. I've never been so honored as to hear Mother herself speak to me.”

Rose bit her lip. The reverence in Wilhelm's voice troubled her. She shivered, but not with awe. She, too, had read of the dreams and trances and messages from long-dead Believers. But it all happened so long ago. It seemed so strange to her now, in an age of locomotives and automobiles and telephones. She watched Elsa,
with her dirty clothes, slouching bonnet, and face aglow with joy. The light in her eyes could be divine revelation. Or it could be madness.

As though sensing her scrutiny, Elsa dropped her arms and faced Rose. She held out one hand and walked directly toward the trustee. A prick of alarm shot through Rose, and her muscles tightened for flight. But she held herself rigid and waited for Elsa to reach her.

“Sister Rose,” she said with quiet gentleness. “I have a message for thee, directly from Mother Ann.” She smiled benignly and took Rose's hand.

“Mother wants thee, Rose Callahan, to be our next eldress.”

Wilhelm's sharp intake of breath was the only sound to break the silence. Rose opened her mouth but no words formed. Her thoughts swirled in confusion. Secretly she had believed all along that Elsa's shaking and twirling served her own towering ambition, coached and nurtured by Wilhelm's passionate longing for a renewed Society of Believers.