Grandfather Zook ushered the family into Young’s Family Kitchen, insisting a piece of pie would make everyone feel better. I had my doubts. Ruth couldn’t stop crying. I imagined how I would feel if Tanisha’s parents forbade her to see me.
We entered the restaurant at the height of the lunch rush. Senior citizens in wheelchairs and walkers complained as they waited for tables, and families with young children perused the gift shop and bakery to distract their toddlers until it was time to sit down and eat.
Ellie spotted us as soon as we stepped through the door. She sidestepped her hostess, a young Amish woman, and grabbed a handful of menus. “I was afraid you left without pie.” She tsked. “I have your table right over here.” She made a beeline for an open table by a large picture window overlooking a cornfield east of Young’s property. A red barn sat just beyond the field, making the scene look like an oil painting.
As soon as we sat down, Ellie removed a notepad and pen from her white apron pocket. “What would you all like?”
Without opening the menu, the Troyer family ordered. They came to Young’s often and knew the offerings.
Ruth had downcast eyes. “I’m not hungry.”
Ellie shook her pen at Ruth. “You need chocolate pie. I can always tell when a girl needs a big piece of my chocolate silk pie.”
The corners of Ruth’s mouth turned up ever so slightly, and she gave her choice.
Ellie scribbled down the order. “What kind of pie would you like, Chloe?”
I flipped through the tabletop menu. Each page had a photograph of a delicious-looking piece of pie. “It’s too hard to decide.”
“The mixed berry is good,” Ruth said.
“With ice cream,” Thomas replied.
Ruth nodded in agreement. “With ice cream.”
I decided my diet started tomorrow. “I’ll have the mixed berries with ice cream then.” The smile my choice brought to Ruth’s face was worth the calories.
After Ellie left the table, I excused myself in search of the restroom. As I moved through the gift shop, a little boy in a Cleveland Indians T-shirt tried to convince his mother to buy him a stuffed tiger. A small waiting area with rocking chairs outside the restroom was empty. When I exited the restroom, two Amish women sat in those white rocking chairs, flour on their aprons and their feet swollen from working in the restaurant’s bakery. They didn’t appear to notice me.
I was about to slip by them when the older of the two women spoke. “Deacon Sutter finally has his chance to be a preacher.”
“And maybe bishop too,” the younger added.
“No, that won’t happen.”
I took a step back into the alcove.
The younger one frowned. “It could.”
The older one leaned her head to one side. “Ya, maybe now that the bishop is gone. Bishop Glick would have never allowed it.”
Did the deacon cut the brake line on my car to get the bishop out of the way? I pushed the wayward thought from my head, yet I knew I would feel safer if Becky or I weren’t the intended targets for the sabotage.
“The bishop will be missed. We need him now more than ever.” The younger of the pair sighed. “Did you hear about Deacon Sutter’s soybean field?”
“No. What happened?”
“Englischer drove through it and destroyed almost every plant. I heard it from his son. He was there at the time. Of course, he couldn’t do anything considering . . .”
The older woman shook her head. “The deacon wouldn’t let his son do anything if he’d been able to.”
In the restroom doorway, I shivered. The attacks on the Amish farms had to be related to Becky’s accident, didn’t they? Why was Chief Rose so reluctant to consider that? And why would they cut the brake line on my car? I took a deep breath and considered that maybe I was forcing the connection between the two incidents. Yet the prospect that they weren’t connected was too terrifying to consider, because that would mean that two different people were causing trouble in Knox County. Who knew Cleveland would be the safer place to live?
“You’re right, but people are scared. I heard the Fishers may move. They have family in the district in Colorado.”
“Colorado.” The older one snorted, then rubbed her knee and sighed. “It’s a shame about the Troyer girl.”
“She is a pretty one, but too flighty. No one was surprised when she decided she’d rather live with the Englisch. My daughter said she draws portraits.” She spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “The deacon spoke to her father about it several times.”
The older woman murmured something I couldn’t make out.
I knew I should make my exit, but found no way to do so gracefully. So I continued to hover in the ladies’ room doorway.
The younger one continued, apparently rested. “Her older brother was a surprise though.”
“He was.” The older woman nodded. “He broke hearts when he left.”
“But the deacon was happy.”
“Of course he was—after what happened.”
“We shouldn’t speak of that. I saw the deacon here earlier,” the younger woman added in a whisper.
Her friend agreed.
My breath caught. Had Timothy left someone he cared about behind when he left the Amish community? What could have happened to make the deacon happy that a member of his district left the Amish?
The older woman tucked a stray hair into her white cap. “The family still sees Timothy often.”
“That’s Joseph Zook’s influence. He’s from Lancaster.”
“Ah.” The second one nodded as if that explained Grandfather Zook’s behavior.
Stranded, I wondered if I should go back into the bathroom until they left when one of the women said, “Hello, Becky, how are you doing?”
I peeked out to see Becky give the pair a tentative smile. “Gut, danki.”
The older one spoke. “We were so sorry to hear the news.”
The younger woman nodded. “Very sorry.”
“Danki.”
The pair seemed to have gained steam. The woman leaned forward in their rockers, listening.
“Can you tell us what happened?” the older woman asked.
I stepped out of the bathroom doorway.
Becky noticed me and let out a breath. “Chloe, there you are. Our pie is on the table. Timothy asked me to find you. He was afraid you might have gotten lost.”
I smiled. “I’m fine.”
The two women had the good sense to blush.
As we left, Becky smiled back at the women. “It was nice to see you.” We made our way to the table, and Becky turned to me. “Is something wrong, Chloe? You look upset.”
“I’m fine.” I forced a bright smile onto my face. “I can’t wait for that piece of pie.” At least that much is true.