Chapter 17
Rachel picked up her wedding dress at the bridal gown shop, but instead of taking it home, she drove out to the Studer farm. After the near-argument she’d had with Evan, she had resolved to do as he asked and set aside her investigation of Daniel’s death. He was right: It was time to move on. The tiff with Evan hadn’t been serious and all was well between them now, but it was the wake-up call reminding her it was time to get her priorities straight. What mattered was her impending wedding, and the life she and Evan would build together.
That said, it still wasn’t all that easy to stop thinking about Moses and his family. Rationally, she saw Evan’s point. But every time she thought of an Amish boy like Moses locked in prison for the rest of his life, she wanted to cry.
There were still a few missing pieces of the puzzle that kept nagging at her. Once she’d put her mind at ease, she told herself, she could move on without regrets. After all, if she’d tried her best and come up with nothing to prove Moses’s innocence, then maybe she’d been wrong all along. And that was certainly possible. Being Amish didn’t mean a person wasn’t capable of great evil. It simply wasn’t something she’d seen often, because, as a whole, they really were gentle and God-fearing people.
Mary Rose’s mother met her at the door of the farmhouse with the sleeping baby in her arms. “Come on in. I just got her off,” Alma whispered, looking down at her granddaughter. “She’s teething and was up for hours last night. Poor little fatherless mite.”
Alma looked as though she hadn’t had enough sleep, either, and Rachel’s sympathy was for the adults in the house. With so many little brothers and sisters, she’d known what it was to be wakened by an unhappy baby, and she’d spent enough hours rocking or walking sick or teething children to appreciate the situation.
“Mam always diluted oil of cloves with water and rubbed Baby’s gums when they hurt,” Rachel suggested, keeping her voice down. “And she said that a clean, damp washcloth, chilled in the refrigerator, for Baby to bite down on helps, too.”
“I forgot about the oil of cloves,” Alma replied, motioning her inside. “It’s been a long time since Lemuel was an infant. I’ll mention that to Mary Rose.”
“Is she at home?” Rachel intended to ask Mary Rose about Daniel’s abuse, and if she didn’t think the information she received would go anywhere, she would sit Alma down here, today, and admit that she could do nothing about her son’s arrest.
“Upstairs, cleaning the attic. You can go up, if you like. I’m embarrassed to say that it’s dusty up there. I shouldn’t have let it go so long.” She pointed toward the front of the house. “The steps lead up to the second floor and then to the attic.”
Rachel pushed open the door and stepped into the shadowy space to find Mary Rose washing one of the windows at the far end. Like many of the attics in the valley, the floor was constructed of rough-cut boards. The structural beams overhead were hand-hewn and marked with Roman numerals, the numbers once used to assemble the house.
Mary Rose turned to face her with a spray bottle in her hand. “Nothing’s happened to my brother, has it? I had the worst dream last night. Is Moses all right?”
“As far as I know,” Rachel assured her. “I haven’t seen him since the one day.” She drew closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was on my way home from State College. I picked up my wedding gown and just thought I’d . . . stop by,” she finished softly.
“You’re getting married on Saturday, aren’t you? To that English policeman.”
“Ya,” Rachel said. “I am. I just drove to State College to pick up my dress this morning.” She resisted the impulse to describe her wedding gown to Mary Rose. Although it was a simple one, an Amish girl wouldn’t be able to appreciate a white dress with lace and buttons down the back. It would seem proud.
“Was the baby still sleeping when you came in?” Mary Rose turned back to the window and began wiping it. “I have to keep cleaning. We do what we can when she’s not wanting something.” She glanced back over her shoulder at Rachel. “She’s a good baby, but you know how babies are. It makes me wonder how mothers manage when they have a houseful of children.” She smiled, and Rachel realized that Mary Rose had a lovely smile. “I’m surprised you found the time to come all the way out here when it’s so close to your wedding. My own wasn’t that long ago and I remember how exhausted I was in the days just before we were married.”
Had she ever heard Mary Rose talk so much at one time? Rachel wondered if it was because Alma wasn’t in the room. Or, was it possible that now that she was free of Daniel Fisher, her true personality was coming out? It was true that people mourned in different ways, but Mary Rose didn’t seem like a woman who’d been widowed only weeks ago. She seemed almost lighthearted. Driving over, Rachel had convinced herself that Mary Rose couldn’t have had anything to do with her husband’s death; now she was suddenly suspicious again.
The girl finished the window to her satisfaction and picked up a broom and began to sweep the area beneath the window. “Mam has some flowers that we’re going to move up here to catch the winter light. She likes her plants, but there’s hardly room for them on the windowsills downstairs.”
Maybe you should have swept the floor before washing the window, Rachel thought, but she didn’t say so. Instead, she pushed forward, determined to get what she’d come for. “Mary Rose—” She heard what sounded like a squeaking board on the attic stairs and she turned to glance through the open door. The stairway she’d just climbed was dark, and she couldn’t see anything but shadows. She thought she’d heard a footstep on the stairs, but maybe it was her imagination playing tricks on her?
As if answering her unspoken question, Mary Rose said, “This house has been here a long time. It creaks in the wind and the floors settle. Don’t pay it any mind.”
Rachel nodded, turning back to the young woman.
Mary Rose had swept dust into a heap and was brushing it into a dustpan. There appeared to be several old chests and a trunk against the wall, all covered with sheets. Hanging from the ceiling beams were old cords that might once have held curing hams or bacon, but now they merely dangled like so many spider legs. A row of old-fashioned chairs and a small round table waited for the day they might be needed or perhaps sold to some English antique dealers. Near the window was a wooden high chair that seemed sturdy enough but had served many babies.
Again, there was a creak coming from the direction of the staircase and Rachel glanced back a second time. She wondered if Alma was creeping up the steps to listen to what they were saying. If she was that kind of mother, maybe that was an explanation for why Mary Rose seemed somewhat timid. An overbearing mother could do that to a young woman.
“Mary Rose,” Rachel said quietly. “I know Daniel wasn’t the man many people thought he was.” She hesitated. “And I know that he hit you hard enough to leave bruises. I saw it myself. After Daniel died. That day in the kitchen. Remember? You told me you ran into the pie safe.”
“I’m going to clean up this high chair for the baby,” Mary Rose said, picking up the old wooden high chair and moving it toward the door.
Silence stretched between them. Tiny bits of dust sparkled in the feeble rays of sunlight shining through the window. Rachel waited. Usually, people who were nervous would say something, anything, to fill the quiet. When Mary Rose didn’t, she asked, “Why didn’t you say anything about that when I asked you about him and your marriage?”
It took a long time for her to answer, but when she did, her voice was surprisingly strong. “He was my husband and the head of our household. I didn’t always obey him as quickly or as willingly as I should. If Daniel had to reprimand me, it was my fault.”
Rachel took her arm and looked into her face. “How can you say that? What kind of a man abuses his wife or those around him? He had no right to strike your brothers or to injure your arm so badly that you needed medical attention for it.”
Mary Rose pulled away, her features defiant. She strode across the attic and began shifting some wooden crates of assorted household wares. “Daniel didn’t hurt my arm that time. Did Salome tell you it was Daniel’s fault? I told her that I fell down the cellar steps. She asked me outright and I told her I tripped and fell. That’s what happened. I’m clumsy. Sometimes I don’t pay attention to what I’m doing and I have accidents.”
“That’s how women explain injuries caused by their abusers. That’s how they cover for them.”
“I’m not covering for Daniel.” She dropped a crate purposefully and it made a loud bang. “I told you. He did hit me a couple of times. Not that it’s any of your business,” she added.
A strong gust of wind rattled the windows and caused a shrill chord along the edge of the roofline and the end of the house. Rachel shivered, but she couldn’t shake off the unpleasant feeling this attic gave her. It smelled of dust and something more, maybe sadness. She certainly felt sad for this young woman standing in front of her defending a bully and a tyrant.
Rachel sighed. “Mary Rose—” Something squeaked behind her and she spun around. She marched back to the attic door and closed it firmly. If Alma or Lemuel or anyone were on the stairs, they’d not hear so well through the thick door panels. “Doesn’t this give you the creeps up here?” she asked, turning back to the younger woman.
Mary Rose shrugged. “Ne. Moses and I used to play up here when we were children. Once he was stung by a wasp, but other than that, nothing ever hurt us.” She scowled. “Why are you asking all these questions about Daniel? He’s dead. It doesn’t matter now what he did to me.”
Rachel thought for a moment. This wasn’t how she was expecting Mary Rose to respond. She didn’t sound like a woman frightened enough or angry enough to commit murder. “You’re positive that it wasn’t Daniel who hurt your arm the time you went to Salome?”
“I know whether or not I fell down the cellar steps. I broke three quart jars of peaches on the way down. I’d say that was a fall. Popped the lids on two more. We had to eat those peaches for supper. What a waste when we needed them for this winter and we’d already had peaches twice that week.”
“So you aren’t denying that Daniel was abusive? You’re just saying he wasn’t responsible that one time.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Mostly it was just a slap here or there, or maybe he would grab my wrist a little too hard, getting my attention. But he always said he was sorry afterwards. And he was so sweet. He did have a temper, but he was trying to get past that. He was getting so much better. And he never lost it without good reason.”
“You mean with you?”
She shrugged. “Any of us, I suppose. We were a lot to take on.” She paused, and seemed to be thinking.
Rachel waited.
“Moses and Daniel never got along because Moses never gave Daniel the respect he deserved,” Mary Rose said. “And he was used to being the man of the house.”
“Moses was.”
“Ya,” Mary Rose agreed. “It was hard for him to accept that Daniel had the right to give the orders here after we were married. What Moses didn’t understand was that without Daniel’s sweat and his savings, we never would have been able to hold on to the farm. We needed livestock, roof repairs, and a new well dug. Daniel saved us,” she finished softly.
Rachel pressed her hand to her forehead and drew it slowly over her head. “Did you love your husband?”
Mary Rose found her cleaning rag in one of the wooden crates and crossed the attic again to attack the dust on the high chair. “I respected him. I didn’t know him that long before we came to an understanding. Concerning marriage. But I could see that it was best for me and for our family to accept his proposal.”
“Then you didn’t love him.”
Mary Rose shook her head. “It’s not so simple. Maybe for you, but I had my mother and my brothers to think of. Daniel was young and hardworking. He had money to buy seed and new equipment and he brought two teams of horses to work our land. Before he came, we struggled. Sometimes we barely had enough to eat. Things had to be done when he arrived. Hard work. Moses and Lemuel didn’t like that. Moses especially.”
“You’re saying Daniel was a hard taskmaster?” Rachel suggested.
“You’re putting words in my mouth. Why do you want Daniel to look like a bad man? He wasn’t. Everyone liked Daniel.”
“You said so yourself, not everyone,” Rachel corrected. “Not Moses or Lemuel . . . or Rosh.”
Mary Rose’s lips tightened and she turned her head away. “Moses is not like other men. You’ve seen him. He’s different. Peculiar, some say. He was born that way.”
Rachel thought about explaining to the young woman that her brother probably should have been diagnosed years ago. Such a diagnosis might even have helped make things easier for him in prison. But what was the point now? Instead, she said, “His boss told me he works hard and that he’s trustworthy.”
Mary Rose scrubbed harder at the wooden tray on the high chair. “I’m not finding fault with Moses. He does work hard, but he doesn’t always understand what needs to be done. It’s better when someone tells him what to do.”
“But not Daniel. He didn’t like it when Daniel gave him orders.”
Mary Rose removed the tray and started on the seat. She dipped her rag in the bucket of soapy water and wrung it out before she wiped the seat down. “Daniel didn’t know anyone like Moses. He didn’t understand that you couldn’t yell at him. It’s best if you explain what you want and then go away and leave Moses to work it out his way. Daniel thought he was slow, but he isn’t. Moses is smart.”
Rachel brushed away a hanging cobweb. “Did you and Moses get along well?”
“Ya.” Mary Rose’s voice grew warmer as she spoke about her brother. “Moses and I were always close. I love him very much and he loves me. He loves all of us, but it’s hard for him to show it. And after Daniel and I were wed, I didn’t have so much time for Moses anymore.” She paused again. “Truth be told, I don’t think he would have liked any man I married. Our family changed, had to. And Moses likes things to stay the same.”
“What about Lemuel? How did he feel about Daniel?”
Mary Rose threw her cleaning rag into the bucket with more force than necessary. “Why are you asking these questions?”
“I’m trying to help Moses,” Rachel said patiently. “Don’t you want to help him?”
“You know I do.” Mary Rose grimaced. “Lemuel has always been the baby of the family. He was ill a lot when he was young, and it was natural that Mam fussed over him. Daniel thought she was spoiling him. Daniel thought it was time my little brother learned to be a man. It was for Lemuel’s good to teach him discipline.”
“You mean he disciplined him?”
Mary Rose sighed and pushed back hair that had fallen from her kapp. “Sometimes I thought Daniel was too hard on him and on Moses.”
“Hard in what way? Physically?”
Another sigh. “Ya, maybe Daniel was quick with his hand.”
A silence stretched between them. Rachel waited.
“But he never had brothers or sisters,” Mary Rose continued. “He couldn’t understand why we were so close. Some of the trouble between Daniel and me was my fault, because I tried to interfere between him and my brothers.”
Mary Rose went back to scrubbing the high chair and Rachel debated how to ask her next question. She wondered if it was wrong to speak of Daniel now that he was gone. But wasn’t it also wrong to leave Moses in jail if he didn’t belong there? She studied an old stool that had one broken leg. In the end, she just came out with it. “Did you know that Daniel was married before?”
“Of course.”
Rachel looked up in surprise. “You knew you weren’t his first wife?” she asked, wondering if the young woman had misunderstood the question.
“There were no secrets between us.” Methodically, Mary Rose lifted the wet cloth and wrung it out before getting down on her knees to wipe the legs of the high chair free of spiderwebs and dust. “His first wife fell from a ladder and injured herself so badly that she died. It was a terrible loss for him.”
“But he married a second time not long after.”
“Ya, but that, too, was a blow to Daniel. His second wife didn’t want to remain Amish. Daniel’s faith meant everything to him. When he refused to leave the church with her, it tore their marriage apart.”
“And nearly took her life,” Rachel said softly. “Daniel beat her badly enough to put her in the hospital. She had broken bones, internal bleeding, a fractured jaw, and—”
“All that I have heard,” Mary Rose said sharply, “was what Daniel told me.” She scrubbed at the oak high chair as if she could rub away the grain of the wood. “He said that she attacked him and he struck back to defend himself. He insisted that the English newspaper people made it seem worse than it was to sell papers. They never said that the woman threw things at him and hit him.”
“Daniel didn’t go to the hospital with injuries. His wife did.”
Mary Rose avoided eye contact, but her voice was surprisingly strong. “True, but Daniel knew he had done wrong. He confessed and asked forgiveness on his knees in front of his church elders. He was truly repentant. And you know that means he was forgiven in God’s eyes.” She dropped the rag and looked up. “Daniel had a bad temper, but he promised to try and control it. I knew his faults, but I married him anyway. We were working things out with Preacher Paul’s help.”
Rachel mulled over that for a moment and moved on. “Why didn’t Rosh like Daniel?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the gossip. Rosh wanted me to be his wife. He’d been saying it since he was ten years old. And maybe, had the circumstances been different . . . I would have waited for him,” she said softly. She looked up at Rachel. “But I needed a husband. Mam needed me to marry.” She shrugged. “I told Daniel about Rosh because I was his wife and it was my duty. Daniel got angry and forbade Rosh to set foot on this farm. Rosh thought that was unfair.”
“Did you kill Daniel?” Rachel asked abruptly.
“Kill my husband?” Mary Rose’s face went sickly gray. “Ne! I did not. How can you ask me such a thing? I could never kill another human being. And I could never have killed my husband. I am a sinner like all of us, but not so great a sinner as that.”
“But now that he’s dead, you feel free?”
Mary Rose groaned. “God help me, I do. It is peaceful in this house now with just the baby and us. Is that wrong?” Her eyes glistened with tears. “To be glad sometimes that my husband is dead? Will I go to hell for that?”
“I don’t believe so. I think it proves you’re human.” Rachel lowered her voice. “Mary Rose, are you sure it wasn’t Rosh who shot him?”
Mary Rose shook her head. “He couldn’t. He’s not like that. He’s sweet. There isn’t a mean bone in his body.”
“But did Rosh know that Daniel hit you? That he abused you and your brothers?”
The expression on her face hardened. “Don’t say that. Rosh couldn’t have killed Daniel. He wouldn’t have . . . and . . .”
“And what, Mary Rose?” Rachel closed the distance between them and looked directly into her eyes. “What were you going to say?”
Mary Rose gave a small cry and slumped onto the floor. Sitting with her legs under her, she clapped a hand over her mouth and rocked back and forth. “Ne, ne, it’s not possible. Rosh is not a killer. Not even for me would he . . .” She groaned and then looked up at Rachel, her facial expression suddenly changing. “It couldn’t be Rosh,” she said huskily. “If he’d been the one, they would have found Daniel with an arrow through his heart. Rosh only hunts with a bow, and he never misses what he takes aim at. He wouldn’t have needed two shots. You can ask anyone on the mountain. They’ll tell you that it’s true.”
Rachel nodded, not sure if she was disappointed or relieved. “No one told me that Rosh only hunted with a bow. Was he hunting with a bow the day Daniel died?”
“Of course.”
“But it wasn’t bow season.”
“It wouldn’t matter to him. Up here, on this mountain, the game wardens rarely come. And if they do, they won’t find him. Rosh knows these woods too well.”
“You’re certain that Rosh doesn’t own a gun?”
“Ne. No one in that house owns a gun. Rosh’s father had a brother who was killed in a hunting accident when he was a child. He’s never permitted anyone in his family to touch a firearm.”
Rachel glanced away and then back at Mary Rose. “I’m sorry if my questions upset you. I was only trying to help Moses.” And that hope was looking dimmer and dimmer every day, she thought. “When I found out that Daniel had hidden his first two marriages from the community, I naturally assumed that you . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence. Now she felt bad to have made such assumptions. Relationships were complicated, not just among Englishers but the Amish, too.
“It’s all right,” Mary Rose said. “My Daniel was a troubled man. I only hope that he has found peace.” Slowly, she got up from the floor and looked down at her skirt, stained with water and dirt. “I wanted to help my family, and I fear I’ve made it worse for them. But I can’t be sorry I married Daniel, because my beautiful baby girl came from that marriage bed.” She exhaled softly. “It doesn’t look good for our Moses, does it?”
Rachel shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Pray for him,” Mary Rose said. “Pray for us all.”
“I will,” Rachel assured her.
“And I will pray for you,” Mary Rose replied. “For your marriage, that you will find more happiness in it than I found in mine.”
Going down the narrow steps, Rachel sneezed and blinked away the dust that had gotten into her eyes. She hoped she hadn’t done more harm in coming here. Certainly, Mary Rose had suffered enough. Did she welcome Rosh’s attentions? She’d sounded as if she cared for him, and the defense she’d mounted for him would have convinced any hardened jury.
The beginning of a migraine was throbbing in Rachel’s head. Where was her migraine medicine? Had she refilled her prescription the last time she’d had an incident? She couldn’t remember. But the time to take it would be now, and if she did have any, it was in her medicine cabinet at home. She steeled herself to talk to Alma. Rachel owed her the decency of admitting what she feared most, that Moses had indeed committed the horrendous crime.
Rachel heard the baby fussing before she reached the kitchen. Alma was walking back and forth, patting the little girl’s back and trying to soothe her. Rachel went to the woman and held out her arms. Alma passed her the fretting child and Rachel began to pat her back. “Did you try the oil of cloves?” she asked. “Poor little babe. A toothache is the worst.” Rachel sat down in a kitchen chair and bounced the baby on her knees. The little girl’s mouth and chin were red and chapped from drooling. “Maybe Salome has something that can help her.”
“She told me to put a spoon in the refrigerator and get it cold and then let Baby chew on that. And she gave me a bit of coral to hang around her neck. Not as a fancy, but to help the pain,” Alma explained.
“Ride a pony, ride a pony, ride him to the mill,” Rachel sang to the baby. The teary eyes brightened and a smile stretched across her adorable face. God willing, Evan and I might have a child, Rachel thought. She did want one or two children, but the midwife had been right. She wasn’t getting any younger. She tried to imagine what it would be like to have a baby of her own. Sleepless nights, she thought, but oh, the reward of that precious smile.
“You know that I can’t go to that place to see my son,” Alma said, coming to sit across from her. “To that English jail.”
She was wearing a dark-green dress today with a starched white apron and a proper kapp. The green did nothing for her complexion. Alma looked bad, her skin color almost gray. Rachel wondered how old she was. If she’d married young and had Moses early, she might not be much older than Rachel herself, but she looked like a woman who had suffered greatly and worked hard. Many Amish women aged poorly, especially those from low-income households. And from what Rachel knew of her, Alma’s life had not been an easy one.
“I know I should go. He is my son,” Alma went on, “but I can’t bring myself to go in there with all those wicked people.”
“Not all so wicked,” Rachel reminded her. “Moses isn’t wicked.”
“Ne, he isn’t. But I’m afraid they will never let him leave that terrible place.” She reached for the now cooing baby. “You have a natural touch,” she said. “You will be a good mother.”
“I hope so,” Rachel said. She got to her feet. “I have to tell you, Alma, I’m afraid I failed you. You asked me to help your son and I’ve done my best, but—” She shook her head slowly.
Alma started to cry. The baby’s eyes widened and she started to sob as well.
“He didn’t do it,” Alma managed. “The police didn’t even investigate. They didn’t . . . didn’t ask so many questions . . . like you. They don’t care whether . . . whether my boy is guilty or not. I didn’t think it would be this way.”
Rachel walked over to stand beside her and put an arm around Alma’s bony shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” Rachel said. “So sorry. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Mother?” Mary Rose came into the room. “Whatever is . . . Give me Baby.” She took the child from her mother. “Don’t, don’t cry. Tears will not help our Moses. Only prayer. God must help us.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rachel repeated. “I’ve gotten nowhere. And now, I’ve upset your mother terribly. Forgive me.” Still stammering apologies, she found her coat and let herself out of the house. She felt so awful. These women had depended on her and she’d let them down.
Sadly, she walked to her Jeep and got in. She was out of options, and two days from now she’d be married and on her way to her honeymoon. It was over and she’d failed. The taste of defeat was bitter on her tongue. Evan was right: She’d let Alma believe that she could do more than she’d delivered.
And instead of helping, she’d only made things worse.