Lamb to the Slaughter (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 1) (27 page)

Todd said, “Can you imagine? What a horny dick that man must have been to be fucking his wife in her hospital bed.”

I was absorbing the story and ignoring Todd’s comment when Heather went on to say, “And then, just about a month ago, an Amish woman brings her teenage son in and he’s wrenched his leg pretty good. She’s acting kind of strange, avoiding eye contact and nervous like, when I ask what happened to him. At the same time the boy began to give his version, she cut him off and said that he’d fallen from a tree. I’m no fool, Serenity. I deal with people all the time, and when my eyes met that boy’s, I knew his mother had lied to me.”

“What do you think happened to him?” I asked processing the information and feeling something nagging my brain about it.

Heather sighed, “I don’t know for sure. Maybe she’d done something to him and was covering her ass. But then, the leg injury didn’t indicate any kind of abuse. It was just weird as all get out. The whole scene bothered me for the rest of the day.”

The tingling push at my brain finally opened up and my heart leaped. “Did you say this happened a month ago?”

“Yeah, about that,” Heather leaned in close and asked in a whisper, “Why, do you know something about it?”

I was already standing up and was out of the booth when I answered her. “I might. Do you know the woman’s name, Heather?”

“Oh, yeah, I remember it clearly. But really, I’m not supposed to say anything about patient’s personal information. I could lose my job,” Heather said quietly, but gazing at her face, I knew she was seriously thinking about spilling the beans.

Todd said, “Go ahead. Tell Serenity what she needs to know. I’m sure it will be okay since it’s the police department doing the asking.”

“No, Todd. Don’t worry about it right now. I believe that I already know who she’s talking about. Let me check it out and if I need anything further, I’ll call you, Heather.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Todd asked. He was already moving to stand up, but Heather’s hand caught his arm.

“We’re supposed to go sample the cakes at two. Remember, you took the afternoon off to come with me.” Heather’s voice had a pleading ring to it, and although I would have welcomed Todd’s company where I was going, his fiancé needed him more than I did that afternoon.

“It’s all right, Todd. I can handle this one on my own.”

Todd reluctantly sat back down, but not before I caught the roll of his eyes. I realized then that he was hoping that I’d rescue him from a few hours of wedding preparation. No such luck, Todd, I chuckled to myself as I turned and headed for the doorway.

“Why, you haven’t had your burger yet, Serenity,” Nancy called from behind the counter.

“Todd will get the bill. Maybe I’ll be back for dinner,” I said, not slowing down for her answer.

The blast of cold air seemed to charge every cell in my head as I made my way through the parking lot.

Was it just a coincidence, or was there a connection?

Briefly, I wished that I could call and speak to Daniel about my suspicions, but that door was nailed shut now. I’d handle this on my own—just like I did most everything else in my life.

28

DANIEL

November 18th

M
a was bent over working in her flower garden and I couldn’t help but admire her for her gumption to do the task on such a blustery, cold day. Of course, once spring came along, she’d have the prettiest flower beds in the county and I was sure that alone was worth the work to my mother.

I was able to walk up behind her unnoticed since she hadn’t paid any mind at all to my vehicle pulling in. She probably figured that her son-in-law had business with an English man. Ma certainly wouldn’t expect me to show up.

My heart sped up when I reached her. I took a deep breath before clearing my throat and saying, “The beds are in excellent shape.”

Ma slowly turned around, her eyes growing rounder as she rose up to a standing position. She collected herself quickly though, and wiping the dirt from her hands on her apron, she
answered me in an even tone, “Well, they ought to, as much time as I’ve invested in them this past year.”

Leave it to my mother to be practical and unemotional when speaking to her oldest son for the first time in fifteen years. I guess it was better than if she began balling her eyes out.

“Where is Father? I need to speak with him.”

Her eyes squinted as she considered my words. Finally, she relaxed a bit and said, “He’s walking in the back field. We have about ten acres of feed corn out yonder that still needs to be cut. You’ll find him if you’re willing to use the energy to get there.”

Yep. Ma hadn’t changed much. She was still using little disparaging remarks to hurt and manipulate me. She’d always believed that I’d taken the easy way out, by going English. She couldn’t fathom that anyone outside of her world actually worked hard.

But I was just happy that she was talking to me at all. It was a start.

“I’ll be heading out there then. I hope to see you again, Ma,” I said quietly, before turning and heading toward the fields behind the house. Before I got far, she called out to me to wait, and I did so, wondering what she was up to.

Minutes later, she came out of the house with a canister in one hand and a basket in the other. She unceremoniously handed me the items and said, “There’s hot chocolate and fresh made cookies to bring to your Father.”

Mother turned and left me standing alone at the edge of the yard. Moving the gingham cloth aside, I counted eight large oatmeal cookies—my childhood favorites. There were
way too many for one man to eat. Ma might not openly give me a big hug at this point, but the cookies were her way of doing just that.

Taking a bite and savoring the delicious taste that only my mother could put into a cookie, I began walking the fence line.

I walked for almost an hour, circling the cornfield. I finally stopped, admitting to myself that Dat might have snuck by me and headed back to the house. The time wandering around the field, tramping through overgrown dried weeds and over clumpy earth was not ill spent though. I enjoyed the time alone, letting my mind wander. Serenity was at the forefront of my thoughts and I wondered if there was still any possibility of getting together with her. Only once before had a woman taken hold of my heart the way she had, and that had nearly ruined my life. But the fact that I actually felt the sensations of first love again still amazed me. I could imagine spending my life with Serenity, raising a family with her and growing old alongside her. Yet, for all my day dreams, I was not at all confident that she wanted any of those things, with or without me. She truly might be the type of woman who’d be content to focus on her career and be single, and free.

The rough corn stalks towering over me also brought Naomi to mind, and it dawned on me how desperate she must have been to take the gamble of running away from her Amish home. Walking a few miles through the loneliness of the fields was only a small part of the obstacle, I knew. The really difficult part for the girl was to leave her siblings, the few
friends she had and her entire way of life. A person had to be extremely motivated to follow through, or desperate.

Just when I was about to pull another cookie from the basket the sharp whistle that I knew so well rang out. I followed the sound and saw Father high up in a tree, looking at me from the hedgerow. Seeing him agilely make his way down from the branches, I silently wished that I’ll be in such a spry condition when I was his age.

Walking to him, I felt fairly calm. The cookies and drink from Ma had done the trick. Maybe Father would be easier to deal with than I’d originally imagined. I wasn’t holding my breath any longer. I was more confident as an adult than I’d been as a wary teenager. Regardless of what my father said, I could turn around and leave. I was no longer a captive to his world or his ideas.

When Father was just a few strides away, I said, “Mother sent you cookies and hot chocolate.” I held out the items to him as if they were a peace offering that would save me from torture and death. A slight smile tickled my lips at the thought.

Father glanced at the items and after taking the basket from my hand he motioned for me to follow him. Silently I did so as he led me back near the hedgerow and a large log that was the perfect size and shape for a place to sit.

Once we were seated on the log, he pulled out the cups from the basket and poured them full of the still warm liquid. Although I was used to my father’s long silences, the sun was dipping down low on the horizon. I wanted the opportunity to speak to the man while we were completely alone and away from all distractions.

Attempting to break the ice, I said, “Ma’s cookies are still amazing.”

“Of course they are. She puts only the finest natural ingredients in them. And a whole lot of love too. I think that’s what really makes them special.” Father took a sip of his cocoa and looked at me with a more serious expression before he went on to say, “But you didn’t come all the way out here today to talk about Ma’s cookies, did you?”

After a quick breath, I said, “No, I didn’t. I was hoping that you might talk to me about something that’s been on my mind for thirty years.”

Father sighed loudly. “Well, go on and spit it out. I’m not getting any younger waiting on you.”

Again, I met his gaze, feeling some of the same apprehension that I always did when Father pointed his black stare at me.

“One night, when I was close to five years old, I walked into the kitchen late in the night to discover you, Aaron, James and old Abraham gathered there. I heard talk of punishment and business, but what stuck in my mind the most was the blood that was on your clothes, and the other’s too. What happened that night, Da?”

Silence followed my question. Only the rustling of the stalks and the occasional late afternoon call of a crow could be heard in the field. I waited though, knowing that there would be no rushing Father. He would speak when he was good and ready, or not at all.

Some minutes later when Father finally spoke, his voice sounded tired. I searched his face and saw an old man for the first time.

“We made a blood oath to keep the events of that night a secret, Son, and I won’t be divulging any information now.”

“Could you at least tell me if Tony Manning was involved?”

Father’s head spun toward me and his dark eyes narrowed. He hissed, “Don’t be mentioning that name again. It’s none of your concern what happened all those years ago… or with whom. Some things are better off left alone.”

“Yeah, and some things haven’t changed much have they?” Father’s brow raise questioningly and I said, “Just look at poor Naomi Beiler and everyone’s unwillingness to talk about her and what happened out in the cornfield that day she was shot.”

Father’s face changed and I could almost touch the anger that emitted from him. He said in a louder voice than I expected, “That silly girl brought on her own demise. And putting the blame on Eli Bender certainly won’t bring her back.”

When Father slid from the log and began marching back to the house, I was quick to pursue him. “But someone shot her—and she didn’t deserve it. There’s no denying that.”

My father rounded on me so suddenly that I almost bumped into him. His words held venom and I remembered all too clearly why I’d never come home before.

Father pointed his boney finger at me and said, “This is Amish business, not the outer worlds’. We will deal with it in our own way and within our own time.” His face twisted as he continued, “It seems to me that you should focus on your own ungodly life and not be meddling into our affairs.”

“Ungodly? Who are you to talk to me about such things when you obviously were involved in the beating of a man—an innocent one at that. And now you’re supporting the cover-up of a possible murder.”

Father shook his head roughly, “I will answer to my Lord when the time comes. But not to you.”

He began walking away again. When he’d only gone a few steps, he stopped and over his shoulder he said, “Oh, and by
the way, any fool could tell that the sheriff is not your woman. That you would stoop so low as to lie to your people with such a ruse is inexcusable—and it shows your level of ignorance to once again trust an English woman. I would have thought that you’d learned your lesson with that Abby girl.”

I watched him stomp away, making no attempt to follow. The anger that heated my soul was spilling out into every inch of my body as I replayed Father’s words in my head.

No, Da, I didn’t lie to
my people
, only the Amish.

31

SERENITY

November 18th

B
ingo—I was in luck. I parked my car and watched the teenager that I’d seen the night of the benefit dinner limp his way across the barnyard heading for the house. I quickly opened the door and jumped out, grabbing my jacket off the passenger seat as I went. Slipping the jacket on, I walked briskly on a collision course with the boy.

When he saw me, his eyes widened and he turned away, actually making a run for the porch steps. Holy shit, I couldn’t believe it, but my legs were ready and I put them into motion. I caught the boy just before his feet hit the steps.