As Ruth headed for Abe’s harness shop with his lunch box, she mentally lectured herself. Martin’s not here; Ivan’s taken his place. Life goes on; I must accept the way things are. With God’s help, I’ll make every day count, for I know how short life can be.
When she stepped into the harness shop a few minutes later, the pungent odor of neat’s-foot oil tickled her nose, and she sneezed.
“Gott segen eich.”
She caught sight of Abe down on his haunches, oiling an old saddle. “Danki for giving me God’s blessing. Now here’s a blessing for you,” she said, setting Abe’s lunch box on his desk. “My mamm baked some cinnamon-raisin bread on Saturday, so that’s what your sandwich is made with today.”
Abe smacked his lips. “That does sound like a blessing.”
Ruth smiled. Abe was such a kind, appreciative man.
“Where are my little ones today?” he asked. “They usually tag along when you come out to my shop.”
“Martha came over and got them a while ago. She took all but Gideon home with her so they could play with Anna and see Martha’s new dog.”
“How come Gideon didn’t go along?”
“He said he had work to do in the barn.”
“If he’d gotten it done first thing this morning, he would have been free to go.” Abe grimaced and rose to his feet. “Seems I’ve got to stay after that boy all the time. I’d have him working for me here a few hours every day, but he’s not dependable.”
Ruth wondered if there was something she might do to make Gideon see the error of his ways, but she figured he was Abe’s boy and Abe should take care of the problem.
“I’ll be up at the house washing clothes if you need me for anything.” She was about to walk away, but Abe tapped her on the shoulder.
“I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a meal one night next week with me and the kinner.”
“But I’ve got all your meals planned already,” she was quick to say.
“That might be so, but I figured the kinner would like an evening out at a restaurant. Since next Friday is Esta’s birthday, I thought having supper out would be a nice way to celebrate.”
“I hadn’t realized her birthday was coming up. She never said a word about it, and neither did anyone else.”
Abe smiled. “So what do you say—shall we take my brood to supper at the Farmstead Restaurant on Friday night?”
She nodded. “That sounds like fun.”
Cleon had no sooner entered the newspaper office than he began to have second thoughts. He’d promised Grace that he would seek out Gary Walker and speak to him about the mailbox incident and the other attacks against the Hostettlers, but he wasn’t sure what he should say or how it would be received. If Gary was the one responsible, he might become angry at the accusations and further harass Grace’s family. On the other hand, Gary needed to know that the sheriff had been informed and had promised to keep an eye on the place. That might deter him from trying anything else.
“I understand you have a reporter working here by the name of Gary Walker,” Cleon said, stepping up to the receptionist’s desk.
The young woman sitting behind the desk looked up at Cleon and smiled. “That’s right. He started working here last week.”
Cleon shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I was wondering if I might speak with him.”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Walker isn’t in right now. He left early this morning to cover a story in Sugarcreek, and I’m not sure what time he’ll be back.”
“Oh, I see.” Cleon turned to go, feeling a sense of disappointment. He didn’t know when he’d have the chance to come to Millersburg again, and he wouldn’t feel right asking Roman for more time off this week.
He headed for the door and had just stepped outside when he spotted Gary Walker coming down the street. He stopped walking and waited until the man approached. “You’re Gary Walker, the reporter, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“I’m Cleon Schrock—Grace’s husband.”
Gary studied Cleon a few seconds, then gave a slow nod. “You must be her second husband. She told me about you, but we haven’t had the privilege of meeting until now.”
“Actually, we have met. You tried to interview me in Berlin a couple of times.”
Gary shrugged. “I’ve interviewed a lot of Amish folks.”
Cleon cleared his throat and wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his trousers. “I was wondering … The thing is …”
“If you’ve got something to say, Mr. Schrock, then just say it. I’m a busy man and don’t have any time to spare this morning.”
“As I’m sure you know, my wife’s family has been attacked several times in the last several months.”
Gary gave a quick nod.
“On Saturday morning, we discovered that our mailboxes had been smashed in, and there was a note attached to one of the boxes.”
“What’d the note say?”
“‘I’m not done with you yet.’”
“Sounds like someone has an ax to grind with one of the Hostettlers, doesn’t it?”
Cleon clenched his teeth. “Grace thinks—”
“I already know what she thinks. She believes I’m the one responsible because I told her once that she’d be sorry for breaking up with me.” Gary grunted. “That woman is so paranoid. Doesn’t she realize that guys say a lot of things they don’t mean when they’ve been jilted?”
Cleon wasn’t sure how to respond. Maybe Grace had read more into Gary’s warning than there was. Maybe it hadn’t been a threat but rather the wounded pride of a hotheaded teenager trying to scare his girlfriend into coming back to him.
“So you’re not responsible for the vandalism to our mailboxes or any of the other things that have gone on at the Hostettlers’?”
“Nope. I’m an innocent man.” Gary brushed past Cleon. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
Cleon watched as Gary entered the newspaper office. Maybe the man was telling the truth. But if Gary wasn’t responsible for the attacks, who was?