Amish Outsider Read online

  Something in Michael relaxed. “He said I’d be treated fair by him. I can’t ask for more.” He glanced toward the house. “Anyone else know about it?”

  “Not from me.” Lige grinned. “I figure no sense in giving women anything extra to fret over. They find plenty on their own.”

  “I like the way you think.” Lige was treating him better than he’d a right to expect, and he was grateful. “I’d better head out to school to pick up Allie.”

  “Sarah says you’re bringing Ruthie here as well. She can run around with Allie until I go home. Don’t let those girls talk your ear off on the way.”

  Michael smiled at the thought, nodding. He’d give a lot to hear Allie chattering the way Ruthie did.

  It took just a few minutes to drive to the school—maybe next time he’d walk. The idea seemed more appealing when he realized a police car was following him down the road, staying a few feet from his bumper even when he pulled into the school lane and down to the school.

  His stomach cramped as he got out of the car. If this was Chief Jamison’s idea of treating him fairly, he didn’t think much of it.

  But when the driver got out he realized it wasn’t Jamison. For a moment Michael stared, memory stirring. What was his name? He’d been one of the Englisch teens in the gang that had hung around Diana. Big for his age—already bulky and filled out when the other guys were still growing into their height. Smethers, that was it. Guy Smethers.

  Something vaguely unpleasant came along with the memory. Smethers had used his size against anyone who was smaller, weaker...a bully.

  Judging by the swagger in his step as he walked toward Michael, the patrolman’s uniform he wore hadn’t changed that aspect of his personality. Odds were he was still a bully.

  Michael forced tight muscles to release. No point in borrowing trouble. Smethers could be here on some errand to do with the school.

  “Harrisburg get too hot for you, did it? Figure you’d come back here and hide?”

  Ten years ago he’d have flared up in an instant at the tone. He was smarter now...at least when it came to the cops. The past year had been full of hard lessons, and that had been one of them.

  “Smethers, isn’t it? So you’re a police officer now.” Keeping his voice level took effort.

  “That’s right.” He came uncomfortably close. “And you’re a felon. Puts us on opposite sides, don’t it?”

  “I’ve never been convicted of a crime.” Don’t give him a reason to cause trouble. Remember, Allie is right inside the building. She could come out at any minute. “And we always were on opposite sides, weren’t we?”

  That was dangerously close to the edge, but it was true. Smethers had made no secret of his resentment toward any Amish kids who hung around with the Englisch, no matter who invited them.

  Guy’s big hands knotted into fists. He was right in Michael’s face, but Michael wasn’t going to back away. He wouldn’t raise a hand to the man, but he wouldn’t cower either.

  “You took Diana away from guys who’d have treated her decent, gave her a crummy life and killed her. And you have the nerve to come back here? Maybe those cops in Harrisburg don’t know how to handle you, but we do.”

  Michael spared a brief thought for Chief Jamison, who’d had him convinced things were different here. Stupid to believe it.

  “Unless you have a warrant, get lost.” He’d started to turn away when Smethers grabbed him. Steeling his muscles, he stood rigid, not lifting a hand, not moving a muscle.

  That threw Guy off. He’d have expected Michael to take a swing. It was what he’d have done ten years ago.

  Not now. Not with a cop. He wasn’t that dumb. He stared at Guy, expressionless.

  Guy’s face betrayed his longing as well as his questioning. Could he get away with it? It hung in the balance.

  And then the schoolhouse door opened and Cathy stepped out onto the porch. She eyed them coolly for a moment.

  “Mr. Smethers. Did you want something?”

  Smethers glared at Michael for a long moment. Then he released him and stepped back. He swaggered to the car, where he turned for a final word.

  “Get out of town, Forster. There’s nothing here for you but trouble.”

  * * *

  CATHY COULDN’T MOVE for a moment, trying to assimilate the venom in the man’s voice. Here, on the Amish school grounds, to have a uniformed officer talking like that—it was unimaginable.

  But she didn’t have to imagine it. She had heard it. She had seen Michael’s reaction, too. He hadn’t turned a hair. Had he actually become used to that sort of anger directed against him?

  The police car vanished from view. The momentary paralysis left, and Cathy was nearly overwhelmed by the wave of compassion that swept her. She darted down the steps and across the space that separated her from Michael.

  “Are you all right? What possessed the man to behave that way? It was outrageous.”

  Michael focused on her, but his face was still frozen into what seemed an impenetrable mask. Then it seemed to crack, allowing bitterness to seep through.

  “It goes along with being suspected of killing your wife. Don’t worry. I’ve heard that sort of thing before.”

  “But not here.” Not, surely, in their peaceful valley. Amish and Englisch had lived in harmony here for a hundred years or more.

  He gave a twisted smile. “Yes, here. Are you really that naive, little Cathy?”

  There was an edge to the words, but she didn’t think he meant to hurt her. He’d been wounded, and he was striking out at the nearest person. She didn’t mind if it happened to be her this time.

  “Maybe I am, but that’s not a bad thing. It makes me expect the best of people.”

  “And when they fail you?” His eyebrow quirked, but it almost sounded as if he were interested in what she thought, instead of merely antagonizing.

  “I’m disappointed, of course. And sometimes I want to call them to account.” She descended from the general to the specific. “I can’t believe Chief Jamison would allow one of his officers to behave that way. And here at the school—that just makes it worse.” She hesitated, not sure why that should matter, but nevertheless feeling it did.

  “You’re a kind person, Cathy. But you don’t need to worry about me. I’ve heard worse.”

  She winced, hating the resignation in his voice. “I should have challenged him. I am responsible for anything that happens on school grounds.”

  “No.” The sharpness of his tone startled her. “Sorry,” he went on. “I didn’t mean to bark. But it’s no use trying to fight back against that sort of thing, especially when it comes from the cops. They have all the power. If I had responded to Smethers the way I wanted to...” He let that trail off, as if he wanted to forget it.

  But she couldn’t. “What? What could have happened? I know we’re taught to respect authority, but when it is abused that way, it’s not right.”

  “Maybe not, but I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. Now, forget it, or I’ll report you to the bishop. Or your big sister.”

  She grimaced, relieved that he’d relaxed enough to be able to tease about it. “I’d almost rather deal with the bishop than with Mary.”

  “A little bossy, is she?” He managed a smile, but behind it she could still feel the anger and pain fighting for control. “She always was.”

  “She hasn’t changed. Come to worship on Sunday and see for yourself. Her family is hosting this week, and I’m sure she’s been driving everyone crazy with her cleaning.”

  He nodded, but she could see that his mind was still wrapped up in what had happened.

  “What are you going to do about Smethers? Will you talk to Chief Jamison?”

  He shook his head. “It wouldn’t do any good.” He glanced toward the door to the school, which stood open now. “Did Allie hear a
ny of that?”

  The sudden anguish on his face at the thought told its own story of his vulnerable place.

  “No, I’m sure she’d didn’t, not enough to realize anyway. As soon as I heard his voice, I closed the door. I put her and Ruthie to work on cutting things out for a bulletin board, and Ruthie’s talking enough to cover up almost anything.”

  His answering smile was mechanical, and he took a step toward the door. “I’d best take those two off your hands.”

  “Wait.” Her outstretched hand stopped him. “I... I’m not trying to tell you what to do.” He’d made it only too clear that he didn’t need or want her advice where his daughter was concerned. “But you’re still upset. Why don’t you give it a few minutes? They’re perfectly happy and occupied.”

  “Maybe you’ve got a point there.” He let out a long breath and seemed to force himself to lean back against the porch railing. “I might be used to this kind of stuff, but I don’t want it to spill over onto Allie. That’s not acceptable.”

  “It’s also not acceptable for you to be badgered and talked about here.” She had a vivid memory of Mary’s tale about the police. Some talk would be inevitable, but not the mean-spirited threats Smethers had uttered. “Besides, the police let you go, so...” She stopped, embarrassed. She hadn’t intended to mention a thing about it.

  Michael shrugged, seeming to accept the idea that everyone here would know about what had happened. “They didn’t have evidence to hold me. That doesn’t mean they think I’m innocent. Until they find out who killed Diana, I’ll be the main suspect.”

  “I’m sorry.” Cathy responded to the bitterness in his voice. “About all of it. Anyone who knows you must surely know you couldn’t have hurt her.”

  “That’s a nice vote of confidence, Teacher Cathy. But I’d guess not a lot of people, even here, feel that way.”

  “Verna,” she said, “Sarah, Lige...there will be others. Just give them a chance.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. It was as if he’d retreated into his own thoughts and memories. Not very pleasant ones, from the look on his face.

  “Michael, don’t...” It hurt her to see him that way.

  “People will think what they want,” he said, not looking at her, pursuing whatever unpleasant thoughts haunted him. “After all, we were separated. Diana wanted a divorce.”

  That startled her. The grapevine seemed to have missed that tidbit. “Did you?”

  He shook his head. “No. And I didn’t understand it. I know she missed...well, the things she’d have had if she’d stayed here. But we were doing okay. I just kept thinking if we sat down and talked things through, it would be okay.”

  She groped for understanding. She knew about divorce, knew Englisch people who had divorced and remarried, but for an Amish person it was not a choice. Marriage was forever. Where were the words that might help him?

  “But we couldn’t.” His voice had flattened out. “I went to the house, hoping to talk, but it was too late. She was dead. And everyone seemed to think I’d done it.” His face twisted. “Apparently including my own father. He won’t see me.”

  Everyone knew how stubborn Josiah Forster was. But surely, when it came to his eldest son... “If you could talk to him...”

  “You’re a kind person, Cathy.” At least he seemed to be looking at her now and not into the past. “My father couldn’t forgive me for running around with Englisch kids when I was a teenager. Do you honestly think he would forgive me now? Do you?”

  She’d like to say yes, but it wouldn’t be true. She couldn’t see Josiah bending, not for anything.

  “I’m sorry.” Pity moved her, and she reached out instinctively to clasp his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  Their fingers touched, and his hand enveloped hers. Her skin tingled where it pressed his, generating a heat that flowed from her palm right up her arm and straight to her heart. She gasped, unable to stop herself, hit by a feeling she’d never experienced before—a feeling that seemed to wipe every other mild attraction out of existence.

  She knew her eyes widened, knew she was staring at him, imagining that his eyes darkened with emotion...

  And then he dropped her hand as if it were a hot coal and turned away. “I’d better get those girls back to the house.”

  He sounded perfectly normal, but she could only nod because her voice was caught in her throat. Why? Why had this happened to her with Michael Forster, of all people?

  And more important, how was she going to hide it?

  * * *

  MICHAEL HADN’T MISSED the fleeting expression on Cathy’s face, and it kept recurring all the while he was admiring the children’s work and loading them into the car.

  He’d been an idiot to spill all that to Cathy. She didn’t deserve to be burdened with the ugly details of his life. She was still such an innocent—he’d probably shocked her. And then, because she had a warm, loving heart, Cathy had reached out to him and imagined...

  No, he couldn’t excuse it by saying she’d imagined what had happened. He’d felt it, too, that sudden rush of attraction. It had felt, for an instant, so very right.

  But it wasn’t. He was light-years away from Cathy in age and experience. She couldn’t imagine who he was inside, and he didn’t want her to. The best thing he could do for Cathy was to show that he valued her as his child’s teacher, and that was all.

  Ruthie chattered in the backseat all the way home, struck by the novelty of being picked up from school in a car. Allie wasn’t saying much—she never did. But when Michael caught a glimpse of her face in the rearview mirror, he saw an expression that wasn’t her usual quiet interest in what Ruthie had to say. She looked... What? Frightened? Disappointed? He couldn’t tell.

  His stomach clenched. Cathy had seemed sure that the children hadn’t heard Guy Smethers’s harsh attack, but what if she’d been wrong? Should he say something about it in explanation?

  He couldn’t begin to imagine what that explanation might be. How did anyone explain a situation like this to an eight-year-old?

  Ruthie broke off her apparently endless stream for a moment as he turned into the lane. Allie spoke.

  “I’d rather ride home in a buggy,” she said.

  “But this is different,” Ruthie protested. “Nobody else does this.” She sounded as if doing something none of the other kids did was a treat. Somehow he doubted that Lige and Sarah would feel that way about it.

  Or maybe they wouldn’t care one way or the other. They both seemed pretty well grounded in the Amish way, accepting those bits of modern life that seemed necessary and unobjectionable and discarding the rest.

  But Allie... Suddenly he realized he hadn’t lived up to one of the first things he’d promised her about living here. He’d said she’d have lots of chances to ride in a buggy, but so far she hadn’t done it even once.

  A weight seemed to settle on him. Was he ever going to get the hang of being a parent? He certainly didn’t live up to the standards of someone like Lige, who was deeply involved in his children’s lives on a daily basis.

  “We’ll take a ride in the buggy tomorrow, okay?” He met his daughter’s gaze in the mirror.

  She looked at him gravely. “Promise?”

  “Yes. I promise.”

  In return he got that small sweet smile. He could only wish he thought he deserved it.

  Since the next day would be Saturday, there would be plenty of time to keep his promise. He wasn’t likely to forget, not with Allie’s brown eyes studying him, waiting. She didn’t nag or pester, the way he’d heard other children do, she just waited.

  He’d be happy to believe it was just that she was remarkably well behaved, but he couldn’t quite convince himself.

  The next morning he and Lige were busy in the greenhouse carrying plants out to display for the anticipated shoppers. At about the time they fini
shed, a buggy turned in the driveway. But it wasn’t an early customer—it was Sarah and her family.

  The kids scrambled out of the buggy while Sarah, carrying the baby, descended more sedately and grinned at him. “Didn’t expect to see the whole crew, did you?”

  He gave her a quick hug. “No, but I’m glad. What brings you over?”

  His sister linked her arm through his. “Let’s get this little one inside first. We figured this would be a busy sales day—such a nice warm day this time in May. Folks will be wanting to get their plants in, ain’t so?”

  “I guess.” He shot a glance at Allie, who had her head together with Ruthie. “I promised Allie I’d take her for a buggy ride today, but if we’re going to be busy, I’d best put it off.”

  “Don’t do that.” She shook his arm lightly. “A promise is a promise. The girls can help for a bit. Then we’ll give the kinder an early lunch, and you can take them all for a trip to town.”

  He blinked. “All?” He was barely managing one child.

  Sarah’s face crinkled with laughter. “Ach, Michael, if you could see your expression. Not the baby, for sure. I’ll put her down for a nap. But you can manage the two girls and the twins. Take them for ice cream and you’ll be the favorite onkel.”

  Without waiting for a response, she called the children. “Listen, now. You’re to help set up until lunchtime. After lunch, Onkel Michael will take all of you to town in the buggy. If you behave yourselves, maybe he’ll stop for ice cream.”

  The twins had looked a little skeptical at first, but the mention of ice cream seemed to win them over. More concerned about Allie, he glanced at her. But Allie, swinging clasped hands with Ruthie, wore a delighted smile.

  So a few hours later, Michael found himself driving Lige’s family buggy down the road. How long had it been since he’d driven a horse and buggy? Since he’d left home, probably. Apparently it was one of those things a person didn’t forget. The movements of harnessing up had come automatically, and the buggy mare was placid and seemed to know her job.