Becky froze. After a long moment, she whispered, “I guess they really are back”
I loosened my hold on the steering wheel. “I’ve seen them a couple of times.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” She gripped her casserole dish. “When?”
“I came across them in town yesterday.”
Becky shifted in her seat, so that she faced me. “Did they say anything to you?”
“They know about Ezekiel’s death and that I discovered his body.”
“How would they know that?”
“Gossip, I’m sure. The whole town, both English and Amish, know by now.” I checked my rearview mirror.
“Do you think they know because they did it?”
I shivered and wished I could reach into my coat pocket and grab my gloves, which were trapped by the seat-belt buckle. “I don’t know.”
Becky frowned. “Do you think they have somewhere to go this Thanksgiving?”
I pulled my eyes off the road to stare at her. “What? Why? You don’t want to invite them to your parents’ house, do you?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Only, I feel bad for anyone that may have to be alone on the holiday.”
“I’m pretty sure Curt’s mother lives somewhere in the county, and besides they aren’t alone. They have each other.”
“I suppose.”
I turned onto the Troyers’ road, and a long line of buggies moved slowly up the street. Amish traffic jam. This was worse than the interstate during rush hour. “What’s going on?”
“The Glicks live about a mile up the road.”
The wedding. How could I forget?
I bit my lip and pulled in line with the Amish buggies. My little VW looked like an alien vessel fallen from the sky during the nineteenth century. “Good thing we left earlier. It might take us a little while to reach your house. We’re not moving at all.”
She wrapped her arms around the casserole dish like she was giving a teddy bear a good-night hug.
“You okay?”
The buggies inched forward two feet, and we did too. The Troyers’ long gravel driveway came into view, but we were still too far away to turn in. A young Amish boy no more than six poked his head out of the back window of the buggy in front of us. He waved widely. The hand of an unseen adult reached out and pulled him back into the buggy.
“I think so. It feels strange to think Isaac’s getting married. I don’t love Isaac. I don’t think I ever really did, but I thought for so long we would marry, if not for love, for companionship. It ties my stomach in knots to think about him marrying someone else, especially Esther Yoder.” She gagged.
“I can see that.”
“I do miss his friendship though. We had a lot of gut—I mean good—times together. Maybe someday he will forgive me.” Her tone was sad. “The truth is, if roles were reversed, I don’t know if I could forgive him. How can I expect him to forgive me?”
The buggies started moving again. Finally, we were even with the turnoff to the Troyers’ drive. Behind us, a couple in the courting buggy watched Becky and I turn into the driveway.
Becky sighed. “The whole district will know we are at my parents’ house before the first wedding sermon is over.”
I thought about the warning Deacon Sutter gave me the day before. “Do you think we should leave?”
She poked her head out of the Bug’s window. “It’s too late for that now.”
As I parked my car close to the house, I suspected she was right. We climbed out of the Bug and started to remove Becky’s dishes from the trunk. The front screen door slammed against the house. Thomas flew down the steps, yanking his winter coat up onto his shoulders.
Becky handed him a casserole dish of sweet potatoes. “You’re just in time to help us carry everything inside.”
Ruth came more slowly down the steps. The hood of her shawl hid her face.
“Ruth, can you help too?” Becky called.
The thirteen-year-old ignored her older sister and sat on a bench overlooking her mother’s vegetable garden on the opposite side of the house. The plants were long gone, plowed back down into the earth. A layer of dead leaves covered the vegetable patch to protect the rich topsoil. I removed the loaf of cranberry bread from the trunk, as snow began to fall in large, fluffy flakes. A white Thanksgiving, just as Timothy had predicted.
Timothy came out of the house then to help us carry in the rest of the food, followed by his roommate, Danny Lapp. Danny was also formerly Amish. His family lived in western New York. Unfortunately, they were much stricter than the Troyers and had no interest in seeing their son after he left the order.
I nodded my head at Ruth. “What’s going on with her?”
Danny’s ever-ready dimple popped out. “Teenagers.” He rolled his eyes.
Becky pulled a cake carrier from the backseat, a three-layer red velvet cake inside. My thick coat muffled my growling stomach. Maybe skipping breakfast was a mistake. “Is she upset about something?”
Danny took the cake from her hands. “Oh, yeah.”
Before Becky could question him further, he spun on his heels and carried the cake into the house. Becky arched an eyebrow at Timothy.
Her brother pursed his lips. “She wanted to go to the wedding and was angry when Daed said no.”
Becky’s brow knit together. “Did he say no because of me? I don’t mind if Ruth goes to the wedding.”
Timothy shook his head. “The bishop said no one from our family was welcome. It must be related to the warning they gave our parents.”
Becky’s mouth formed a perfect “O” lined with her pearl-pink lipstick.
The deacon had told me the truth, as much as it hurt. The Troyers weren’t excluded because of Becky or Timothy. Ultimately, they were excluded because of me. Guilt stabbed my heart. Silently, I promised myself that this would be my last visit to the Troyer farm.
I would make it count.