As Timothy drove the truck around the town square, I asked, “Why didn’t Dylan tell me the house belonged to his family?”
Timothy shook his head. “I knew there was something off about that guy the moment I met him.”
I frowned. Why hadn’t I known?
“Those old photographs made me think.”
“About the coins?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have any pictures of my great-grandparents, my parents, or my younger siblings. Seeing those pictures, I could see how looking at them could bring someone comfort. I see how the picture of your mother brings you comfort. Is that why you keep it?”
“Yes, and I’m afraid I will forget what she looks like.” I scratched Mabel’s head hanging over the front seat.
As Timothy’s truck rolled down our street, I saw a buggy in front of the house. Timothy slowed. “That’s not Daed or Grossdaddi’s buggy.”
I sat up straighter. “Who else would it be? We aren’t particularly popular among the Amish right now.”
Timothy pursed his lips. “That’s why they’re here.”
“They?”
Before he could reply, I saw who he meant. Both Deacon Sutter and Bishop Hooley stood in the middle of my front lawn watching the house.
“It’s probably best if you wait in the truck,” Timothy said.
“But—”
He squeezed my hand. “Chloe, please.” Timothy stepped out of the truck and walked over to the two men. I rolled down the window, but the trio spoke in Pennsylvania Dutch. Their words were meaningless to me.
Deacon Sutter pointed his gloved index finger at the truck, but more specifically at me. Mabel whimpered in the backseat. “I know, Mabel. I don’t like them either.”
Guilt twisted in my gut. I knew going to the Troyer farm had been a mistake and attending the funeral had been a worse one. What would this mean for the Troyer family?
The conversation became more heated. The deacon threw up his hands and shook his fist at Timothy. The bishop said nothing and didn’t move. Timothy listened to the deacon with his arms folded across his chest.
“Mabel, you stay here.”
I stepped out of the pickup. The cold air, welcome after being inside the historical society’s house, chilled me to the bone. I walked to the back of the truck to stay out of the men’s way while fumbling with the zipper of my coat.
“Psst, Chloe!” Aaron waved from the backseat of the buggy.
I hurried around to the other side of the buggy so that the deacon and bishop couldn’t see me. “What are you doing here?”
He arched an eyebrow at me. “Paying a call to you, I guess. I thought I was headed home after another day at Young’s, but Daed decided on the detour.”
“The bishop came with you.”
“I should have realized we weren’t going straight home since the bishop was riding along.”
“What are they saying to Timothy? What’s going on?”
“They are yelling at him for attending the funeral today.”
“Did Ellie get in trouble?”
Aaron shook his head. “The bishop believes she was misguided by grief.”
“What else are they saying to Timothy?”
Aaron shrugged. “The usual. The deacon tells him to stay away from the Troyer family because his presence, oh, and yours and Becky’s too, are leading them from the Amish way. He says this is the final warning. The next time you all are seen with the family, they will be shunned.”
I bit my lip.
Aaron frowned. “I feel so useless. I’m stuck up here. I can’t even climb out of the buggy to defend my best friend to my father.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Aaron shooed me. “They are coming back to the buggy.”
I waved and hurried around the back of the buggy only to run smack into Deacon Sutter. We both stumbled back after the impact.
“You need to watch where you’re going,” the Amish leader hissed, reminding me of a snake.
I straightened my shoulders. “What are you doing here?”
Timothy stepped around the deacon’s horse and stood beside me. “Come on, Chloe. They both said everything they needed to say.”
The deacon glared at me. “Not everything.” He pointed a finger at me. “I don’t know how you’ve been able to worm your way into the affections of the Troyer family, but rest assured that’s the only family you will lead from the Amish way.”
“I didn’t . . .”
Timothy squeezed my elbow as if telling me to stop, but I couldn’t. A question which had been plaguing me popped into my head. “Deacon, what were you doing Friday talking to Collette Williams?”
The deacon glowered. “What are you talking about?”
“When I was on the float, I saw you speaking with Collette from the college. I want to know why.”
Deacon Sutter clenched his jaw. “You mean the Englisch woman who wanted me to tell her how wonderful the college is to my community. The college does nothing for my district. We do not want or need Englischer help. I’m offended by the idea of it. You were the one who put her up to it, then?”
I felt my cheeks grow hot. “No.”
His glare darkened. “I don’t believe you. The college has had no interest in us before you moved here.”
“I—”
Ding, ding! The bell on Becky’s bicycle announced her arrival. She cruised down the street and slowed as she saw Timothy and me squaring off against the deacon and the bishop on the road side of the buggy.
It was dusk. The temperature seemed to fall with each inch of sun that disappeared behind the houses to the west. Becky jumped off her bike while it was still in motion and dropped it in the middle of the driveway. Seeing how she treated it, I knew why her chain broke so often.
She hurried over. “What’s going on?”
Timothy glanced at his sister. “Bishop Hooley and Deacon Sutter were just leaving.”
Becky chewed her lip and glanced up into the buggy. Her eyes lit up when she saw Aaron. He grinned back at her and cleared his throat. “You need to be careful, Becky. It’s not safe for you to ride your bicycle home this late. You could have been struck on the road.”
“I was careful.” She gave him a high-wattage smile.
The deacon watched their exchange. A red stain crept up Deacon Sutter’s neck and onto his wind-blown cheeks. He balled his leather-gloved hands into a tight fist as a knowing expression crossed his stern face followed by one of resolve. He snapped at his son in their language.
Aaron responded in English. “Becky is my friend. If I want to talk to her, I will.”
The deacon turned a peculiar shade of purple. He turned to Becky. “Stay away from my son.” His voice shook. “You will not lead him away.”
Becky glared at the deacon but did not reply. She wore her own look of resolve that twisted my stomach up into knots.
The bishop and deacon climbed into the buggy, and the Troyer siblings and I stepped back onto the front lawn of the house. As the buggy drove away, Aaron waved at us. Becky waved wildly back, with the deacon watching her in the buggy’s side mirror.
Timothy sighed when they were out of sight. “I need to get back to Young’s to make sure the job site is shut down for the night. Are you girls going to be okay?”
I nodded.
Becky picked up her bike and walked it to the garage.
Timothy touched my arm. “Before you go to bed tonight, take one of your kitchen chairs and shove it under the doorknob of the front door. That will make it more difficult for anyone to get inside the house.”
“Like the deacon?”
“Like Dylan.”
I stuck my hands in pockets. “I don’t think he’d bother us at night.”
Timothy didn’t appear convinced. “Maybe I should spend the night on the couch.”
I shook my head. “You need your rest, and that couch wasn’t made for sleeping on. We’ll be fine. I’ll use the kitchen chair.”
He smiled. “Thank you. Call me if you feel uncomfortable.”
“I will.”
When Becky and I were safely inside the house, I said, “I thought of another good reason to move.” I locked and bolted the front door.
“What’s that?” Becky asked.
I shoved the kitchen chair under the doorknob just as Timothy had told me to. “Deacon Sutter won’t know where we live.”
That night, I sat up in bed looking at that rough printout of Gerald Tanner’s original plans for the house on my iPad. I enlarged the space in the living room that was missing a wall. Then, I scanned the plans for the second floor. Another wall was missing between mine and Becky’s bedrooms. Instead of three small bedrooms on the second floor, there had been one large room and a smaller one. In the house now, the extra bedroom was empty. Becky and I didn’t have enough furniture to fill it.
I grimaced. Would Dylan want to knock down the wall between our bedrooms? I prayed Tyler was right and that getting out of the lease would be as easy as he thought.