Holding a Tender Heart (43 page)

A sharp knock on her office door interrupted Debbie's thoughts. Before she could answer, it opened and Rhonda from the front desk peeked in. “Your appointment is here.”

Debbie raised her eyebrows. “What does he look like?”

“Some kind of Amish man.” Rhonda's gaze swept over Debbie's attire. “Are you dating an Amish man?”

Debbie laughed. “I am not.”

“So shall I let him come back or are you coming out?”

“I'm already here,” a man's voice said in the hallway.

Rhonda whirled around.

Before Debbie could move, Henry Yoder appeared in the doorway. Or at least she thought he looked like the Henry Yoder she'd known. She hadn't seen him since before the excommunication. His beard was gone and his hair was shorter, but he still wore suspenders and looked about the same otherwise.

“You know who I am?” A hint of his old boldness played on his face.

“Yes, I do.”

“May I sit?” Henry motioned toward an empty chair.

The man sure didn't seem shamed by his excommunication, but then he'd always been bold. A vision of Henry when he directed things at his house at that Sunday evening hymn singing flashed through her mind.

“You're the one in the
bann
,” Debbie blurted.

He didn't appear offended. “
Yah
, according to the Amish, but perhaps not according to
Da Hah
.”

Debbie stared at him. “I don't know much about such theology. You wanted to see me for some reason? Is there some way I can help you?”

Henry tilted his head. “In fact, I do. I believe I have some information that would be beneficial to the Beiler family. I figured it was useless speaking with them…being in the
bann
stands in the way. So I'm speaking with you. You live with them, and I figure you understand these
Englisha
things better than they do anyway. You probably aren't under the Amish church obligation to discard the information as they would be just because, well, since I've been thrown out, let's say.”

“You want me to tell them something?” Debbie asked.

He sighed. “What I have may benefit the Beiler family, but the information is not for them. At this time I think it would be best if they don't know what I have to share. The Amish can be strange about such things. I even heard the ministry's cut off Joe's defense completely.”

Debbie didn't wait for him to say more. “And you don't agree with that so you want me to do something that would defy their counsel but possibly defend Joe? I'm afraid there is nothing I can do.”

“Nee! Nee!”
He waved his hand about. “That's not it at all. I have new information to give to Joe's attorney.”

Debbie's ears perked up. “New information…about Joe's case?”

Henry took a moment to shift in his seat. “It's like this…see…I now associate with a different church. I'm meeting different people, and they often see things differently than the Amish do. And they don't want an innocent man to be punished. Those of us who know Joe want to help out in this case. We feel sorry for Joe…and for Verna too, of course.”

“We all feel bad for them,” Debbie agreed. “But I don't see how you can help. There are two witnesses against Joe.”

Henry didn't move. “You haven't yet heard what I have to say.”

“And why would you want to help the Beiler family? Bishop Beiler and the ministry excommunicated you.”

Henry made circular motions in the air with his hand. “Perhaps I want to sprinkle a little of those ‘coals of fire' on Bishop Beiler's head. But then maybe I'm just acting out of the goodness of my heart put there by
Da Hah
. I'd like to think that also.”

“Coals of fire?” Debbie asked out loud, searching her memory. “Oh, the biblical reference on how one should treat the enemy.”

“
Yah
, that one.” Henry appeared satisfied. “Although Bishop Beiler isn't my enemy—at least not on my part.”

Debbie glanced at the clock. “I have to leave in ten minutes for another appointment…”

“I'll make this quick,” Henry interrupted. He held out a crumpled paper he pulled from his pocket. “Here is the phone number of a member of the church I now attend. One Willis Helmuth. He is willing to testify to repeatedly making cheap purchases of merchandise from the owner of Slick's Bar and Grill. A Mr. Tom Hendricks, I believe. Hendricks is the one who wants to undermine testimony on Joe's behalf. Willis was once Amish himself—from another district. He was in his
rumspringa
around the same time as Paul and Joe. He's discussed this with our church leaders and me, since I know Joe. It's our belief that if this merchandise Willis purchased is checked, it will match some of the stolen goods from those robberies Joe is supposedly tied to. Here's the bottom line. Willis still has these items, and he is willing to turn them over along with his testimony to Joe's defense attorney and the police, if things come to that.”

Debbie took the paper, her heart pounding at the possibility. “But this Willis may come under suspicion himself if he knowingly purchased stolen goods.”

Henry shrugged. “Willis bought these items cheap suspecting they might be stolen but not sure about it. He asked questions, and Mr. Hendricks assured him they were not. One can hardly go to jail for being an Amish skinflint, huh?” Henry grinned.

Debbie hardly knew what to think. She stood and paced behind her desk. This seemed too fantastic to possibly be true, and it was dropped into her lap on the very afternoon she was to speak with Joe's lawyer! Was this the miracle the Amish had looked for?

“You will pass this on then?” Henry asked, standing up.

“Yes, I think I must,” Debbie said. “And thank you!” She held out her hand, and Henry shook it. Then he nodded, turned, and disappeared down the hallway without another word.

Debbie stared at the paper with the name and details spelled out in black and white. Had God moved right in front of her eyes? She rushed to finish her work and close up the office. As she hurried past Rhonda, she offered a rushed, “See you, Monday!” She
unlocked the car, threw her things in the back, and pulled out into surprisingly light rush-hour traffic. When she arrived at Ms. Hatcher's office, she found a parking space right in front and hurried into the building. She took a seat in the lobby after a quick nod to the secretary.

Moments later she found herself seated across from the serious Ms. Hatcher.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Watson. When you made this appointment on the phone, you said you had some bad news for me. I sure hope that's not the case because I'm already about to pull my hair out over this Amish stubbornness. I've been told that Mr. Wagler, my only witness, is refusing to testify. If I'm ever assigned to defend an Amish person again, I do declare I'll have to…”

Debbie handed her Henry's crumbled paper. “Maybe this will help.”

Ms. Hatcher read in silence for a moment. “What is this, and where did you get it?”

“A certain
stubborn
Amish man named Henry Yoder gave it to me this afternoon. Only his stubbornness cost him his membership within the Amish community, I'm afraid. I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, he has his reasons for coming forward. The paper is a list of items a Mr. Willis Helmuth purchased from the owner of that bar and grill Joe and Paul went to. The owner of that bar is one of the prosecution's witnesses against Joe. Because he was able to purchase the items so cheaply, Mr. Helmuth believes they may have been stolen and might be listed on the police report in Joe's case.”

Ms. Hatcher devoured the details on the paper again. “My, this does look good! If the numbers match, I might come out smelling like a rose after all. This ought to send the prosecutor racing off in another direction like a mounted Englishman after his hound.”

“That's what I hoped,” Debbie agreed. “But I have a request. Can you keep the identity of these witnesses and the source a secret from Joe until the trial?”

Ms. Hatcher rolled her eyes. “You people are certainly strange!”

Debbie repeated, “Can you keep them a secret?”

“If they all don't change their minds about cooperating,” Ms. Harper said. “If I go to the district attorney with this, the case might not even go to trial.”

Debbie got up to leave. “That would be good news indeed.”

As she turned to go, Debbie noticed Ms. Hatcher was already reaching for her phone. She smiled all the way back to her car. Now the question was whether she should tell Verna. She'd been confident enough in the face of Ms. Hatcher's questions, but what if something should go wrong? Would it be fair to raise Verna's hopes only to have them dashed to pieces again? And how would she keep the identity of the people involved a secret? She would wait, she decided as she climbed into her car. She would tell Verna she'd been to the lawyer's office like she'd promised. Verna wouldn't ask any questions beyond that.

Forty-One

T
he following Tuesday night it was late when a buggy pulled into the Beilers' driveway. Supper and the evening devotions were finished, and the family was sitting in the living room visiting.

Verna glanced over at
Mamm
. “Perhaps I'd better go upstairs?”

The peace that had entered her heart the night she'd prayed had stayed with her, but there were moments when its hold wavered. If Deacon Mast had come for a talk with
Daett
on some church trouble or, worse, if this was a new trouble that concerned Joe, she didn't wish to see him.

“You'd better stay,”
Mamm
replied and gave Verna a quick glance. “We don't know who is here. And you can't go running away from problems. You don't even know what this is about.”

Mamm
was right. Trouble was better faced head-on.
Daett
was already on his feet and headed out the door. Any conversation between him and Deacon Mast would occur outside by the buggy. Verna could surely handle that much stress. And if this concerned her,
Daett
would break the news afterward whether she fled upstairs or not.

Verna nestled down on the couch and gave Debbie a pained look. “My nerves are a little raw, I guess.”

“Mine would be worse than raw,” Debbie said. “You're a perfect saint in my opinion.”

“Hey! What about me?” Lois asked from the other end of the couch. “Am I a perfect saint too?”

“No comment!” Debbie teased.

They all laughed, the soft sound filling the living room.

Life was slowly returning to normal, Verna thought. Despite the added pain of Joe's almost certain future imprisonment. This was how
Da Hah
worked when one trusted Him. She would make it through the years ahead with
Da Hah
's help. She would travel with the same grace He was giving to her now.
Yah
, it would be shaky at times, but there would be help available when she needed it.

Joe's trial would occur soon, and sorrow might overwhelm her soul then. But
Da Hah
would not fail her. She would always believe that truth. She glanced up and saw Debbie regarding her with a worried expression.

“Are you okay?” Debbie asked.

Verna forced a smile. “Just thinking of the trial. Yes, I'll be okay.” Debbie glanced at the floor. “There's something I should tell you…I mean…I hope things turn out okay, and they might yet, you know.”

“Thanks for the encouragement.” Verna gave a strained laugh. “You're such an optimist, Debbie. You always see the bright side. I wish I were more like that.”

Debbie almost spoke again, but Bishop Beiler reappeared in the doorway, looking shaken.

“Daett!” Mamm
leaped to her feet. “What's happened?” She took him into her arms.

He briefly hugged her and then said, “Please, everyone, sit down.”

They all sat down except
Mamm
, who stayed beside
Daett
. Everyone in the room stared at him, waiting. What horrible news had Deacon Mast brought? Would Verna be able to take it?