The Fiddler (19 page)

There were other emails from Stoney, as well, but she couldn’t bring herself to open them.
I need your signature, Amelia!
read one subject line.

The old tension returned, more fiercely than before. She was actually grinding her teeth as she scrolled up to click instead on Byron’s first email, sent earlier this morning, before they’d talked.
I hoped you would give me a call once you were home, Amelia. I’m still trying to understand everything you told me yesterday—it’s going to take a while. Wish we could have been together on our anniversary. With love, Byron.

“Love?” she whispered.

Amelia leaned back in the comfortable booth, letting her eyes roam the coffee shop. She was somewhat amused by the many patrons hunched over their laptops. Several slurped on iced coffee or chai lattes, and one man moved his lips as his fingers flew over a keyboard.

She experienced a sudden surge within, a need to control this one minuscule part of her life. Amelia turned off the laptop and reached for her icy drink. Stoney and Byron could wait.

Lillianne had witnessed Michael run out to wave down his friend.
He could’ve gotten himself run over,
she stewed.
Why’s he chasing after an outsider?

Shaking her head, she went to feed the chickens, scattering corn feed in the open pen. While they scurried about, eating and pecking at each other, Lillianne entered the warm, dark little hen house, going around to collect the eggs from the nests and place them in her wire basket. Once, years ago, she’d encountered their oldest son, Roy, out here smooching the girl he ended up marrying.

Oh,
thought Lillianne,
if
only Michael might fall for one of our church girls.
But Michael was clearly carrying a torch for the young woman right now driving her car to town. Not even Marissa could hold a candle to this here Englischer, it seemed.

Lillianne took great care with the egg basket and its precious contents, not wanting to drop a single egg. Not like she’d done yesterday, while Michael and his father were exchanging heated words. Today she’d use some of these very eggs to make a welcome home cake for their youngest son, who would surely never think of kissing a girl out in the hen house, of all places!

At least, she hoped not.

S
aturday morning very early, Lillianne found Michael sitting alone in the kitchen. He turned ashen when he saw her, his hands dropping quickly to his lap.

“Michael, I
know
you have a cell phone. No need to hide it.”

His eyes were ever so serious.

“Well, you don’t much care for it, Mamm.”

She ignored that. “You look awful worried.”

He hesitated. “It’s a text from Elizabeth. She must’ve sent it last night,” he muttered. “Didn’t check messages till just now.”

“Everything all right?” Lillianne asked.

He shrugged, suddenly acting casual. “Well, you know, it’s hard to tell ’bout her.”

Lillianne stared at the cell phone in his hands, her heart racing. How she longed to know where their dear granddaughter was after all these months. “When was the last you heard something?”

“A few weeks, maybe.” Michael’s voice was quiet, like he could barely get enough breath to speak. He pressed a button, which caused the screen to blacken. “I just texted back. I’m sure we’ll hear more soon.”

“Tell her that
Dawdi
and I pray for her every day, won’t ya?” Lillianne wouldn’t ask more, although she could hardly stand not knowing what was going on. And something was, too, just from the look on Michael’s fretful face.

He glanced anxiously toward the door. “I should get back to the barn. Daed will wonder what’s become of me.”

She nodded, worried sick as she watched him trudge out to the harness shop.
He knows more than he’s letting on!

Michael was in the stable feeding the mules when Amelia arrived. His pulse quickened as she stepped into view; then he chided himself. Her being in Hickory Hollow was only temporary, after all.

“I put your laptop on the kitchen table,” she told him. “Thanks for letting me borrow it yesterday.”

“Just let me know if ya need it again.”

“Something wrong?” she asked. For pity’s sake, if she didn’t see right into him!

“Actually, there is,” he admitted.

“Can I help?” She reached out as though to touch his arm, then seemed to think better of it.

“I’m not sure anything can be done,” he said in a low voice. Michael continued to pour feed into the trough. “Lizzie, my niece, is in a bad way.”

Amelia’s eyes filled with worry. “Where is she?”

“Harrisburg . . . in the hospital.” He explained about the rough crowd she’d fallen in with and asked Amelia not to say anything to Joanna or anyone else. “ ’Specially not to my parents.”

“Oh, I hope and pray she’s okay.”

“She says it’s nothing. But scrapes and scratches don’t land anyone in the hospital. So something’s not quite right.” He shook his head. “She’s not answering her phone. I tried texting, too.”

“Maybe you should just go to her.”

He bowed his head. “She and I have been through this before. Lizzie doesn’t want me to interfere—she can be as stubborn as a mule sometimes.”

“But
she
contacted you, right?”

Michael nodded.

“Maybe that’s her way of asking for help.”

“Well, I can’t just leave here . . . not with Daed like he is. Besides, you’re my guest,” he replied.

“Don’t worry about me . . . it’s Joanna I’m staying with. You should go, Michael. Wouldn’t your father want you to?”

Feeling awkward at what he’d implied, Michael finished up his chore before continuing the conversation. What did Amelia know about any of this? Yet she seemed to care. “You’re probably right,” he said suddenly. “You know what? You’re English. Maybe you could help make sense of all this—with Elizabeth, I mean.”

Amelia’s expression grew doubtful. “You two are obviously close, Michael. She’s asking for
you
. I’m just another English stranger.”

“But, seriously, would ya mind?” He was at a loss to know how to handle his niece, especially with this latest news.
Look what good I’ve been to her. . . .

“Are you sure?” she asked.

He straightened, fixing his eyes on her. “It sure would mean a lot.”

“Okay, then,” she relented. “When do you want to go?”

Michael’s shoulders dropped with relief. “As soon as I wash my hands and put on trousers that don’t have manure stickin’ to the hems.”

“I’ll be ready,” she said with a slight smile, which Michael would have returned had he not been so nervous about naïve Elizabeth living outside the Plain community. If anything terrible had happened to her, a big part of the blame would fall at his feet.

Once they were on their way, Michael wanted to level with Amelia. “There’s more to what’s goin’ on with Elizabeth,” he confided. “She’s in over her head with a worldly fella.”

Amelia looked over at him. “Is that why you wanted me to come along?”

He nodded. “I just hope she’ll listen to wisdom for a change.”

Amelia smiled quickly and folded her hands. “You might want to go easy on her, at least at first.”

Michael chuckled under his breath. “I was hopin’ you could help with that.”

“So, you must want to talk her into coming home with you.”

He nodded quickly. “When you meet her, you’ll know right away she belongs in Hickory Hollow.” He meant it. “If she’ll just open up—to both of us—she’ll know it, too.”

He dreaded the thought of Lizzie dating a man outside the Plain community, someone who might influence her away from God. Unlike him, his niece showed little interest anymore in faith.

“I’ll do what I can,” Amelia said quietly.

“Well, she has to make the choice to return.” He realized how strange this must sound to Amelia, considering his own struggles with the church. “For Elizabeth, it’s most definitely the right thing,” he added quickly.

“But . . . not for you?”

Amelia had him, and he suspected Lizzie would ask much the same. This was always where things ended up. But it didn’t matter now. What mattered was helping his niece. And if that made him seem a hypocrite, then so be it.

After a lull in conversation, Amelia asked, “You know, right now I’m really wondering how the Amish church retains young people. How does Hickory Hollow manage to hold on to someone like Joanna or your siblings?”

“Some think it’s a peculiar riddle, but the Rumschpringe years give youth a chance to see what the outside world is like. Not all teens leave the confines of the People, mind you. Only a small percentage dip their toes in the modern world.”

“Just a small few, you say.” Amelia looked unusually thoughtful.

“Yes, very few,” he repeated, wishing he could sit again across a table from her, to focus solely on her.

Amelia seemed to consider this. “Strange as it might sound, I recognize a bit of my own life here in Amish country. In some ways, I’ve been just as cloistered from the world as the People, though my parents would hate to hear it.” She gave him a wry smile. “Maybe this is
my
Rumschpringe, eh?”

Michael wasn’t sure what she meant until she told him about the European tour and all the hopes surrounding that.

“I feel like everyone’s holding their collective breath, waiting for me to sign on the dotted line. And, well, suddenly I’m not so sure anymore.” Amelia sighed and shifted in her seat. “It’s a little like you, I guess, with your bishop and your family waiting for you to join the church. There’s so much that depends on that decision.” She turned away from him, glancing toward the window.

“It’s not possible to make a decision like that lightly, is it?” he said, understanding more fully now why they had connected from the very first.