Chapter Four
“Don’t hold the meal for us,” Daed said to Mamm. Then he motioned for Priscilla to follow him to the barn.
“But you need to eat something.” The distress in Mamm’s voice came from more than worrying about them missing a meal. She seemed even more upset than Priscilla about the breakup. “At least let me fix you a sandwich to take with you.”
“You don’t have to,” Priscilla forced herself to say. “I made plenty of sandwiches for—” For the picnic that never happened. She winced.
How many picnic lunches had Matthew indulged in with Mara? Had Mara spent time making all of his favorite foods the way Priscilla had done this morning?
Daed patted her shoulder awkwardly.
Mamm stopped heading toward their gas-powered refrigerator and turned, her eyes damp. “Ach.”
If Priscilla didn’t come up with a distraction, her mother might burst into tears. “I put a pint of camel’s milk in there for Asher.”
“Camel’s milk?” Mamm stared at her. Then she glanced at Daed with a question in her eyes. A question Priscilla could read clearly. Has our daughter gone crazy?
At Daed’s shrug, Mamm cleared her throat. “I know this has been upsetting for you, but camel’s milk?”
The disbelief in her tone made Priscilla want to defend herself. “I went to a camel farm this morning. A man just bought that large property in Bird-in-Hand, and he’s raising camels.” She stepped around her mamm and opened the refrigerator. “It’s on the top shelf.” She pointed out the small bottle.
“I see,” Mamm said faintly. “What do we do with it?”
“I’m hoping Asher will drink it.” Her brother was quite fussy about what he put in his mouth. “If he does, I’ll get more.”
Mamm wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure this is safe.”
“I’ve read a lot of research on it. It’s supposedly good for autism.” Priscilla hoped Mamm wouldn’t forbid her to experiment.
Her parents were old-fashioned and hesitated to try new things. Yet Priscilla had coaxed them into letting her take Asher to Hope’s horse therapy farm. And that had been helping. Also, getting Asher a weighted blanket had calmed him. So had changing his diet.
“We can discuss this later,” Daed said.
As she grabbed two of the sandwiches she’d lovingly prepared that morning, a sharp pang sliced through her, and she bit down on her lip. How could this have happened? Had she done something wrong? Why else would Matthew stray?
“Priscilla?” Daed’s voice broke through her gloom. “We should go.”
Stepping aside so Mamm could set out lunch for the rest of the family, Priscilla struggled to get her emotions under control before turning around. She handed the sandwiches to Daed and headed for the door. Outside, he offered her one, but she waved it away.
“Danke, but I’ve already eaten.” Even if she hadn’t, she’d never bite into one of those sandwiches.
Daed didn’t seem convinced. “You’re sure?”
“I’m positive.”
They walked in silence toward the barn. When they reached the entrance, Priscilla halted. “I don’t think we should do this.”
“What?” Daed stopped beside her.
“What if the bishop’s wife overhears us?” Betty Troyer rivaled Mamm as one of the biggest gossips in their district. “Besides, Mara is her niece. The bishop might feel obligated to tell her parents.”
“That’s possible.” Daed tugged at his beard. “But perhaps her parents should be warned. I’d certainly appreciate it if someone told me one of my children had been misbehaving.”
Although part of her might want to see Mara punished, Priscilla couldn’t deliberately hurt Mara or Matthew. Most of all, she didn’t want to make Matthew’s mamm suffer.
“If they tell Mara’s parents, Matthew will lose his job.”
“Jah, Mel Bontrager is strict. I can’t see him keeping Matthew on the job.”
Exactly what Matthew had said when he’d asked her to keep his secret. “I can’t do that to Matthew’s mamm.” His widowed mother, an invalid, depended on him for support. Priscilla couldn’t harm an innocent woman, especially not one she cared for as much as she did Ruth.
“Are you sure you want to keep this a secret, dochder?” Daed studied her face. “You’ll be the subject of gossip.”
“I know, but what do you think God would want me to do?”
“Some people say we should call out sin, but I’ve found over the years that often it’s best to let God deal with the situation. Why don’t you pray about it?”
Priscilla nodded. “I will. The bishop did say he expected us to confess. If Matthew does that, he’ll have to tell the truth.”
It meant waiting more than a week for the next church Sunday, but it would be better for everyone in the community to hear the story from Matthew rather than for Priscilla to be a tattletale.
* * *
On Monday morning, after milking his camels and cows, Gabe went into the store to package up the milk. The sign in the window listed only afternoon and evening hours on weekdays. Mornings by appointment only. Even after he’d lined the shelves with newly filled bottles, he stayed, because he didn’t want to miss any random customers.
Being inside his empty, cavernous warehouse added to Gabe’s loneliness. Before moving to Bird-in-Hand, he’d owned a smaller farm, a gathering spot for family and friends. They’d drop in at all hours to talk or help. Here, he had his brother’s family, but he’d made no friends yet, and the rest of his family still lived in Bucks County. He missed Tim’s company during the daytime.
Gabe paced the floor, trying to come up with marketing ideas to attract new customers. Lord, You led me here, but I don’t know how to promote our products. You know how hard it is for me to talk to groups or to strangers. Please show me the way.
One of his Englisch friends from his old hometown had suggested getting a computer and online presence to expand his business, but Gabe didn’t want to run afoul of his new bishop. He’d wait until he’d met the church leaders before asking.
When the phone rang an hour later, Gabe was glad he’d stayed in the store. His customer, Henry Defarge, had a thick Philadelphia accent and a brusque manner.
Except Defarge didn’t order milk. Instead, he snapped out a sharp, blunt question. “How much to buy you out of the business?”
Shocked, Gabe couldn’t come up with a coherent answer. Maybe he’d misheard. “Excuse me?” he finally managed.
“I want to buy the camel farm.”
Didn’t people usually look over a property they were interested in and spend some time negotiating before making an offer? “I’m sorry, but my business is not for sale.”
“Everyone has a price,” the man insisted. “What’s yours?”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I have no intention of selling. Not for any price.”
“You will, sooner or later. When you get to that point, call me, and I’ll take it off your hands.”
“Thank you for your offer.” Gabe tried to be polite. “I appreciate you calling.” He was preparing to hang up the phone when Defarge stopped him.
“Can you supply us with camel’s milk once a week?” he barked.
“Of course. How much do you need?”
Gabe sucked back a gasp when Defarge gave him a number. That would take almost all of his weekly supply. But he didn’t want to turn away a major customer. “We could do that.”
He scratched numbers on a scrap of paper on his desk. In addition to the loyalty discount he gave his regular customers, he should give an extra percentage off for a bulk order.
“You’ll give us a good deal, right?” Henry disguised his question as an if-you-don’t, I’ll-twist-your arm-until-you-hurt demand.
A bully, for sure and certain, but this sale would be amazing for Gabe’s business. “Your bill would be—” He gulped before quoting the amount he’d figured. The number sounded so high, but he’d lose money if he went much lower.
“I hope that isn’t your best price.” Henry’s words, heavy with sarcasm, hung between them.
Gabe didn’t want to lose such a big order, so he lowered his price. And lowered it again at Henry’s insistent prodding.
When Gabe protested another cut, the man’s semi-sinister laugh turned smarmy. “I know you Amish like to help others. This milk is going to a charity that helps kids with allergies and other health problems. Camel’s milk is good for that, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” If it would help children, Gabe couldn’t deny one more price cut. The final number was so low, though, he’d barely break even.
“Let’s do the same with your cow’s milk.” Defarge’s hearty laugh churned Gabe’s stomach.
This time Gabe started higher because Defarge would weasel him down. Still, the man again managed to cut Gabe’s profit margin to practically nothing. The only thing that prevented Gabe from backing out of the deal was knowing he’d be helping children. Besides, most of his milk might not sell. If it sat in his freezers, he’d have no way to pay bills. Perhaps once he built up a customer base here, he could renegotiate.
A few people stopped by after he opened at noon. Two of the women said Priscilla had sent them. He sold them each a gallon of camel’s milk and one of regular milk, so giving Priscilla the free pint had paid off already. An older couple strolled through the store and checked out the refrigerator but left without buying anything.
When the door opened later that afternoon, Gabe had returned to his desk with a stack of bills—both business and personal—to figure out how he’d manage to pay them with the money from Defarge. But Tim didn’t race into his office the way he usually did. Gabe hoped nothing was wrong.
“Tim?”
“He’s not here yet,” a woman answered.
Gabe shot up from his chair. He’d been sitting back here when he had a customer. He hurried out of the office and halted. Priscilla?
He ran a hand over his bowl cut, hoping his hair wasn’t too disheveled, and adjusted his suspenders. He was brushing dust and lint off his pants when she turned to face him. Clasping his hands in front of him, Gabe tried to act casual. “Can I help you?”
She smiled, setting his pulse racing. That wasn’t good. He needed to get his reactions under control.
“Jah, I hope so. My brother drank the milk without complaining, so we’d like to buy more each week.”
“In that case, you can get the discount I offer regular customers.” Gabe rushed over to the counter, picked up a brochure with a sign-up sheet, and handed it to her.
“Danke, I’d appreciate that.” She filled out the sheet and added her biweekly order amount.
Priscilla had sent the two customers who had stopped by earlier. Perhaps he should offer her the same discount he’d given the Philly distributor.
“And thank you too,” he said.
She lifted her head. “For what?”
“You’ve sent people to the business.”
He tried not to peer at her address on the form. Now he’d know where she lived. Not that he needed that information.
He couldn’t help being happy to see she’d be stopping by twice a week for milk. And his joy had nothing to do with increased sales.
Gabe shook his head. He needed to keep his mind on business, but it proved difficult when she was around.
* * *
Priscilla could hardly concentrate on printing information on the form with Gabe standing beside her. She checked Wednesday and Saturday pickups.
“I’m glad my friends stopped by.” She’d suggested it to several people, and it pleased her that a few of them had come. Some members of the community had been avoiding her.
Gabe moved a little closer as if checking out her answers. He made her so nervous she worried she’d make mistakes. And was it his nearness or her heavy coat making her so hot?
“I hope they’ll like the camel’s milk and will return,” Gabe said.
“I do too.” Priscilla finished writing and handed him the paper. “Have you been busy today?”
Gabe wished he could say yes, but he had to be honest. “There’s always plenty to do with milking, bottling, stocking shelves, and doing book work. But if you mean customers, besides your friends, only one couple stopped in.”
“I’m sorry. I hope it picks up.” She didn’t want him to go out of business. And not only because of Asher’s milk.
Gabe followed her into the refrigerated room and carried the gallon she selected. “Actually, I did have a large phone order, which will help.”
“That’s great.”
“I guess.”
Gabe’s lackluster answer made her curious. “You don’t sound too happy.”
“I suppose I should be grateful, but the man talked me down to a very low price. It’s for charity, though, so I shouldn’t complain.” He held the refrigerator door with his back so she could go into the store.
Being so close to Gabe, Priscilla needed to get her pulse under control. She took several deep breaths while he set the milk container on the counter, but the extra air didn’t help.
“At least this time I have money with me,” she managed to tease, despite her slightly unsteady breathing.
“Well, I would offer to give them to you free, but after this weekend’s thefts—”
“You had more than one?” Priscilla stopped counting out money to stare at him.
Gabe shrugged. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know for sure. It’s just that I’m missing payments for twelve gallons of camel’s milk.”
“Ach, I wonder if . . .” Priscilla didn’t like to accuse someone without proof. Fleurette had taken the three coolers, but she’d paid for the camel’s milk after that.
“What?” Gabe stared at her.
“Fleurette put several refrigerated bags in her trunk before she took the coolers. Maybe she’d paid for them, though. I wasn’t in the store, so I can’t say for sure. And Tim did go to get some change.”
“It seems I need to find this Fleurette.”
Why did thinking about Gabe finding the beautiful Englischer give Priscilla such a pang?
* * *
After Priscilla left, Gabe waited impatiently for Tim. As soon as his nephew arrived, Gabe asked, “Will you be all right alone here if I run to the library?”
“Sure.” Tim glanced around the empty room. “We’re not busy.”
“Jah, that’s for certain. I’ll be back by milking time.”
Tim usually manned the store alone while Gabe milked, so Gabe had no idea why he was worried about it today. Maybe because of the thefts.
“Keep a close watch on anyone who comes in.”
“You mean like that lady?”
“And anyone else.” Gabe had examined Saturday’s receipts carefully, but he’d double-check with his nephew. “Speaking of Fleurette, did she pay you twice?”
Tim’s forehead wrinkled. “Why would she do that?”
“Priscilla Ebersol stopped by this afternoon and mentioned you went to get change while Fleurette was here. Priscilla thought Fleurette loaded bags into her car while you were gone.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have left the store, but she asked if I had change for hundred-dollar bills.”
“You did the right thing. We expect others to be honest and upright. It’s a shame we can’t trust everyone.”
Tim hung his head. “You can take the money from my pay.”
With as little as he paid Tim, his nephew would be going without pay for a long time. “Neh. I don’t blame you for what happened. I’m going to the library to see if I can find Fleurette’s address and phone number. I’d like to get her to pay.”
He’d pulled her bill and checked her signature. Even though most customers paid in cash, he always had customers sign their receipts. Luckily, Tim had remembered to do that. Her last name was a bit hard to read, though.
He took off for the library. Even with the research librarian’s help, he found no listings for Fleurette Moreau. They tried other spellings—Morrow, Morro—with the same result. He had no way to contact her.
The Englischer remained on his mind as he returned home and did the milking. He could report the theft to the police, but she was from out of state. And he’d only just opened his business, so he hesitated to do that. For now, he’d just pray and see what happened.
* * *
Going to the camel farm yesterday had been the highlight of Priscilla’s week. Seeing Gabe had cheered her up, but it also had been an escape after a trying time. Yesterday, her friend Ada, the school’s head teacher, had not said a word about the rumors, and their aide, Martha, was her usual cheerful self. But several parents had looked at Priscilla askance.
And today, when Betty Troyer, the bishop’s wife, came to pick up her son, she’d shot glares in Priscilla’s direction. Seeing Priscilla surrounded by children may have kept Betty from a confrontation. Today, though, Priscilla had just helped eight-year-old Lizzie into her mamm’s buggy and was walking back alone. Betty cornered Priscilla on the playground away from everyone.
A disapproving frown etched into her forehead, Betty said, “I want you to know I’m praying for you and Matthew.”
“Danke.” Priscilla tried to sound grateful.
Some of the parents who were picking up their children glanced over, and Betty lowered her voice. “I’m sure the school board will be discussing this with you, but teachers are expected to be examples.”
Ada’s sympathetic look from the schoolhouse doorway helped Priscilla maintain her composure, but her face flushed.
“If I’d been caught in such behavior,” Betty said, “I’d be ashamed. Yet you show up to teach as if nothing happened. No remorse. No repentance.”
When Priscilla remained silent, Betty’s face turned scarlet. She pivoted and stalked off to collect her children, leaving Priscilla shaking with suppressed anger. She’d just been humiliated by a rebuke that rightfully belonged to Mara. What would Betty think if she discovered her niece was the one who’d done these things?
The last parent arrived as Betty drove off with her children. As soon as Ada had helped Will into his mother’s buggy, she headed over.
Priscilla remained frozen in place, shell-shocked. Betty’s words still swirled through Priscilla’s brain. She could lose her job. She’d hoped Matthew’s confession would prevent that.
Waiting until next Sunday would be torture. Then everyone would know the truth. But what if Betty pressured the school board to fire Priscilla before that?
Ada reached Priscilla, put an arm around her, and gave her a brief side-hug. “I’m sorry.” Ada’s eyes shone with pity. “I wish I could have come over sooner, but I didn’t want any of the children to hear what Betty was saying.”
Priscilla appreciated Ada’s support. Her fellow teacher had received tongue-lashings from Betty too, so she understood. Not once today had Ada said anything judgmental. For that, Priscilla was grateful.
Right now, all she wanted to do was get home. Away from the prying eyes. Away from the knowing looks. Away from the disapproving glares.
Ada walked beside Priscilla to the street, and before they parted ways, Ada leaned over and whispered, “We all do things we regret, but once we’ve asked God for forgiveness, those mistakes should be left in the past.”
But I didn’t make this mistake. Priscilla’s heart burned with the injustice.
“And don’t worry,” Ada continued, “I’ll do everything I can to keep you here at the schoolhouse.”
“Danke,” Priscilla mumbled as she turned to head in a different direction.
She appreciated Ada’s kindness. But how much influence would Ada have with a school board who believed Priscilla had done wrong?