Chapter 12

Vera loved the train. But as it moved away from the city this time, she felt it in her guts. Leaving Tony was getting harder and harder. They had both said this relationship was just for fun. Both of them divorced. She with a baby. He with a new teaching job. And besides all this, he was in New York and she was in Cumberland Creek.

She felt an intense pang for him move through her body—like a wave of heightened awareness. She ached; her guts twisted; her heart sank. And then she caught herself. Wasn’t this the stuff of cheap romance novels? She was almost forty-two years old and couldn’t continue this emotional roller-coaster ride with him. For how many years could it go on? Where could it lead? She could never leave Cumberland Creek to be with him—because of Elizabeth. She couldn’t take the child away from Bill and Beatrice. Meanwhile, he was so Brooklyn. It wouldn’t be fair to ask him to leave behind his city—this place that pulsed with energy and life—for her sleepy little town.

Perhaps it wasn’t so sleepy anymore. Two murders within a month of one another. Both young women with red hair. Unique markings called runes were carved into their bodies.

“You don’t hear about that stuff in New York,” Tony had told her over bagels that morning. “It’s so safe here now.”

“Yes. I feel safer here now than I used to,” she said, looking around his tiny studio apartment. His years of dance had not left Tony well off—quite the contrary. He had to give up the touring because his knees finally gave way. But he was able to teach and commanded a decent salary, most of which he was saving for a knee replacement.

But she loved the simplicity of his place and his life. A wall with a desk that held his computer, next to that a keyboard and stereo, then what counted as his kitchen—just a wall with a sink, stove, fridge, and a few cupboards. She smiled at the thought of the first time she baked him an apple pie there. It was a challenge. But, oh, he loved it. Raved about it between fork-fed bites from her own hand.

Of course, along the opposite wall was mostly just his huge bed, where his touch made her feel more alive than she had in years.

Someone gave a laugh on the train—it had the same quality as Tony’s. He laughed again. It was so similar that she had to turn around and look. Of course, it wasn’t him. But when the laugh came again, Vera realized she was crying. That laugh. She could picture Tony’s smiling mouth, open, framed in deep dimples, with that sound rolling out of it. How could he fill her with such pleasure and such bittersweet longing at the same time?

Every time she left him, she was grateful for the transition time on the train or plane. The train was nicer for this very reason. She felt as if it was transporting her between two worlds. Two lives that she struggled to keep separate. Tony wanted to come to Cumberland Creek, and that thought made her uneasy.

“Are you ashamed of me?” he’d asked her just last night, his deep brown eyes softly looking at her through long black eyelashes. “What?”

She’d wanted to cry. “This time together has been like a dream I don’t want to wake up from. I don’t want to share you.”

He’d kissed her with such passion at that moment that it almost took her breath away. The next thing she knew, they had gotten so carried away that they knocked all his plants down that were perched along the headboard of his bed.

Vera smiled. She’d keep that to herself—along with all the decidedly kinky things that went on this weekend. He was leading her to explore a side of herself that had been stuffed inside for far too long. In a way, she felt foolish. Here she was, a slightly overweight new mother, feeling like a lithe teenager. She lost all sense of herself in his arms. What they had seemed to go beyond the physical trappings of their bodies, though the trappings were what brought them such joy.

She opened up her laptop and clicked on the local news, hoping there had been no more murders in her little town. She scrolled down and breathed a huge sigh of relief at the lack of news—there was only Annie’s recap of the events about Sarah’s death.

Jenkins Mountain—one of the biggest mountains in the Shenandoah Valley—houses several communities. One of the communities is a tight-knit Old Order Mennonite enclave, which is where Sarah Carpenter was raised.

“The Mennonite faith encompasses many branches,” says the Reverend Paul Thomas. “Some dress simply. Some dress in modern clothing. But we are all Mennonites, and we are all Christians seeking a simple, peaceful way of life.”

At first glance, one might think peace might be found surrounded by the pristine mountains and farm fields of the region. Long days are spent working the land or canning the garden’s crops or picnicking with your church. This place is far from the temptations of neighboring cities, like Charlottesville, Waynesboro, or even small town Cumberland Creek—which is where Sarah’s body washed up approximately ten hours after she drowned.

“We know it wasn’t an accident. There are marks that indicate that she was held underwater until she died,” says Detective Adam Bryant of the Cumberland Creek police.

Sarah’s murder, the second murder in the area in two years, is shrouded in mystery. Part of that mystery is her life on the mountain. Given that the community is in mourning and enforces strict mourning precepts, many of her family and friends are not available for questioning.

But as a typical young Mennonite farm woman, she probably began each morning with prayer, then farm or kitchen chores. Sarah had three brothers and two sisters. Given her age, she may have begun each day in the kitchen, helping prepare food for the family.

One thing we know about Sarah is that she played the piano and gave lessons to the local children as a way to earn money—which she no doubt gave to her parents.

Her social life would have consisted of visiting with neighbors and friends who were also Mennonite. She would have attended church functions, since the Jenkins Mountain community does not have a bar, a grocer, or even a restaurant.

Just then Vera’s cell phone blared Beethoven’s Fifth. She brought it to her ear.

“I miss you,” Tony whispered into the phone.

She smiled and reached into her bag for a chocolate. “I miss you, too.”