Secrets in the Grave (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 3) (12 page)

My eyes trained on the yellow road sign with the black silhouette of a horse and buggy ahead. SHARE THE ROAD. A shiver of anticipation ran up my spine when we drove past the sign.
We’re almost there
.

“How long has it been since you visited this particular community?” I asked almost absently, looking at Daniel from the corner of my eye.

He was wearing large aviator sunglasses, a gray t-shirt and denim jeans. He hadn’t bothered to shave that morning and a dark shadow of prickly hair growth over his jaw was visible. My
thoughts began to wander back to the night before when that same jaw had moved slowly over my stomach and then lower. I swallowed and shook my head in an attempt to chase the image from my mind.

“Hmm, it must be about twenty-some years. I was just a kid. As I got older, I didn’t travel to visit the family as much anymore.”

“Do you still have relatives here?”

“Of course. Probably dozens of cousins. I lost track of them when I left the Amish.” He smiled ruefully. “You know, when you’re shunned, you don’t get any more Christmas cards.”

“The Amish send cards for Christmas?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It just seems like sending cards is kind of materialistic in a way,” I said lamely.

“Ma used to make her own. I’m sure she still does. I imagine my sister buys a box from the store. Keeping in touch with relatives is important to the Amish, and what better way than at Christmas,” Daniel said, slowing to a stop and then turning left.

We passed clusters of wooded islands on each side of the road. The foliage on the trees was turning green, becoming more pronounced. The warm breeze stirring from the narrow opening in the window even smelled green.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about your people. Even as much as I’ve been around them the past few months, I’m still completely ignorant about so many things.”

Daniel snorted in good humor. “I grew up Amish and I’m still surprised sometimes.”

Unwanted thoughts pestered my mind, pushing themselves out my mouth on their own accord. “You know…if I were pregnant, the child would be part Amish.”

Daniel shrugged. “It’s a neat background to have, I think.”

“Maybe,” I mumbled, my thoughts wandering again.

“They’re not as bad as you think. You’ve seen my people during some really trying times when they were at their worst. Usually, life is pretty peaceful and quiet. Not at all what you’ve grown accustomed to.”

I looked sideways. “I think it’s odd that you still refer to them as
my people
. You’re not Amish anymore, remember?”

Daniel’s brow lifted above the rim of his sunglasses. “I think most people refer to their home being wherever they grew up. If someone was raised in New York, they don’t lose that northern accent and those opinionated mannerisms when they move to Florida. Just the same, a southerner’s drawl might soften with time away from home, but never truly disappear. It’s the same with me. Growing up Amish shaped me. It’s a part of me whether I like it or not,” Daniel said quietly.

“Was there ever a time when you
really
wanted to go back?” I faced Daniel, chewing on my bottom lip.

Daniel took a moment to think out his response before he answered, worrying me even more.

“Right after I discovered what a mistake I’d made leaving home to be with an English girl, I regretted my actions, but I was too stubborn to admit it. Those were tough years. I managed to survive. It wasn’t until much later that I began to miss the honest living and community spirit of the Amish. It really hit me right before I met you. I was lonely.”

I looked back out the window. It was funny how you could see a person almost every day, sleep and eat with him, and still not really know him at all. In so many ways, Daniel was a stranger to me, having basically grown up on another planet.

“You had friends and your work crew—and a string of girlfriends. Most men would be thrilled with such a life,” I scoffed.

Daniel laughed. “That’s what most men want, except for me. If there’s one thing I did take from the Amish, it was the love of family. Ever since I was a young man, I dreamed of having my own wife and children.”

“You could have had it several times over if you really wanted,” I accused.

Daniel shook his head in frustration. “It’s not about having it with just anyone. After Abbey, and until you, I never felt inclined to get serious with another woman.”

“And now you’re ready for it.” I snorted.

“Yes, I’m ready for it, even if you’re not.” Daniel hit the brakes hard before he turned onto a gravel driveway leading to a small white house beside the road. I lurched forward into the tightening seatbelt.

I didn’t say anything. The last thing I wanted was to get into an argument with him before we interviewed the old lady.

I focused on the front porch where a black lab with white fur around his muzzle shuffled down the steps. He barked half-heartedly at us while we got out of the Jeep.

I guessed that the woman sitting in the rocking chair on the front porch was Wilma Gingerich.

She looked even older than I had imagined.

I lifted my chin into the breeze and listened to the chirping of the birds, instead of the unintelligible mumblings between Daniel and Wilma. The type of German that the Amish spoke
wasn’t taught on learning disks. This was the main reason I’d enlisted Daniel’s help with my first Amish investigation.

The
clip clop
of hooves on the pavement drew my gaze down the road. A slick, high-headed black horse trotted by, pulling a buggy. A hand shot out of the buggy, waving at Wilma’s house. Both Wilma and Daniel waved back. The sound of the horse’s hooves grew fainter, until the countryside was quiet again.

Some bees flying around the forsythia bush at the corner of the porch caught my attention. Watching the bugs dart between the yellow flowers and listening to the incessant drone of their buzzing made me sleepy. Daniel had stayed the night, and because of his insatiable appetite in bed, we’d been up late. The long morning at the department was finally catching up with me. I yawned, closing my eyes.

“Serenity. Wilma is ready to answer your questions,” Daniel said, his voice slicing through my fogginess.

My eyes popped open. I took a breath and smiled at Wilma. The crinkles around her eyes deepened as she smiled back at me.

I pulled a little notebook from my pocket. “Thank you for speaking with me on such short notice.” I glanced down at my previous notes and back up again. “Is it true you were there when Robyn Peachey gave birth to Esta, a baby girl, about ten years ago?”

Wilma nodded in unison with her rocking. “Yes, ma’am. I was there.”

“Did anyone else attend the birth?”

“Ada Mae—and Jonas was there at the end,” she said in a quiet, but not fragile voice.

Even though Wilma was of advanced age, her gray eyes were clear. I was pleasantly surprised to get the impression
that she probably had the ability to recall things that happened long before Robyn died in childbirth.
Wilma was still as sharp as a tack
.

“Are you saying you and Ada Mae started the birthing process with Robyn, but Jonas finished it?”

Wilma shook her head slightly. “Ada Mae and I were there the entire time Robyn labored. Jonas only arrived right before the baby came out.”

“Where had Jonas been?” I asked carefully, hoping not to look too suspicious of the man. I wasn’t sure about Wilma’s feelings for him.

“He visited one of the local children. She was sick. When he left in the morning, Robyn’s pains hadn’t started yet, so he went on his way.”

“Did the birth progress normally before Jonas arrived?”

“Why yes. It was her fifth child. Her body was accustomed to it.” Wilma stared back at me.

I swallowed. “What happened then?”

Wilma took a breath and gazed out at the field running parallel to her yard. There were several brown cows with calves at their sides.

“It is always sad to lose a calf, but to lose the cow is even worse. It was the same with poor Robyn. We were devastated. By the time Jonas arrived, Robyn had been laboring for several hours, longer than I thought a woman with her number of children should have. Ada Mae agreed with me. We allowed Robyn to begin pushing, but the baby just wouldn’t drop on its own. Jonas had delivered nearly as many babies as I had. When he arrived, he took charge of the situation.” She took another forced breath, turning to Daniel. She said a few sentences to him in German. When he nodded, motioning for
Wilma to continue, she faced me again. “Jonas was suddenly afraid for his wife. He saw something that we had not. Maybe it was the paleness of her skin or something of a vision. He asked Ada Mae to bring the anointing oils, and he laid his hands on her—”

“Exactly how did he place his hands?” I interrupted.

“The same as his grandmother taught him. One hand on the head and the other on the stomach. He began the chanting ritual. A few moments later the baby was born healthy and Robyn was dead.”

I glanced at Daniel. His eyes were wide and he was frowning. It wasn’t the best timing for this kind of conversation, but I was more concerned that Wilma didn’t have any more information for me. There wasn’t a lot to go on here.

“Did Jonas do anything with the hand he had on Robyn’s stomach?”

“He pushed down as he should have. Sometimes, the child needs to be manipulated with the hands to enter the birth canal.”

“Was Esta breach or ill positioned?” I asked, drawing on my small reservoir of knowledge about childbirth.

“She came into the world headfirst,” she confirmed.

“Why do you think Robyn died?”

“There was too much blood. She became unconscious. The English doctors couldn’t even save her.”

“Wait—she was taken to the hospital?”

Wilma nodded. “Jonas had his daughter, Gloria run to the corner phone box. She dialed the emergency number. The ambulance came and took Robyn away.”

“Do you have any idea which hospital she went to?” I asked, holding my breath.

“I believe it was the Catholic one—Mercy.”

Daniel was already pulling the car keys from his pocket.

I stood. “How was Jonas’ behavior?” Seeing the confusion on Wilma’s face, I added, “Was he very upset or fairly calm?”

Wilma smirked, sending a tingle racing up my spine. “It’s the only time I ever saw that arrogant man cry. Perhaps it was because he failed with the healing—also a first time as far as I know.”

I hesitated, trying to formulate the question in a way that wouldn’t sound absurd. When I glanced down, Wilma was waiting patiently, reminding me of a cat lounging outside a mouse hole.

I tried to blow off the uneasiness I was feeling. “Are you a healer?”

Wilma laughed. “No, child. I have delivered dozens of babies over the years, but I have no abilities other than knowledge.”

I appreciated her honesty. “Do you believe Jonas can heal with his hands?”

“He is a conduit for power. That is all.”

“Where do you think the power comes from?” The question wasn’t pertinent to the scientific investigation, but I asked it for my own benefit.

She didn’t hesitate. “I believe it depends on the person using it. If they are good in the heart, it is from God. If they are evil, then it is the serpent they work with.”

The air on the porch grew cooler and I shivered.

Movement and the flash of light blue at the edge of the house caught my eye. I craned my neck to see a woman peeking around the corner. Her cap blended in with the white paint on the house and her dress was the color of a winter sky. She had a long face that resembled Wilma’s enough to make
me guess they were related. She didn’t scurry away. Instead, she stared back at me with round eyes.

“Who’s she?” I pointed at the woman spying on us.

Wilma swiveled in her rocker enough to see for herself. “Oh, that’s my granddaughter, Marissa.” She waved her hand. “Come out Marissa. No reason to hide.”

Marissa trotted away from her hiding spot and up the porch steps. She came to a stop in my personal space. I stood my ground, studying the slender woman up close. She appeared to be around thirty. There were fine lines around her dull, gray eyes that were probably brought on from working outside in the sunshine her entire life. Without the benefit of wearing makeup, I could see the blotches and imperfections on her skin from sun damage. Her plain brown hair was free of any gray hairs, though.

“Hello,” I said.

“
Hullo
,” Marissa mimicked me, only with a heavy accent.

I looked past Marissa at Wilma. “I think she overheard us.”

Wilma swatted the air in front of her. “No worries about Marissa. She has the mind of a five year old. I’m sure she didn’t understand much of what we were saying.” Her gaze settled on her granddaughter. “Go on, girl. I’m sure those hens have some eggs for you to collect.”

A huge smile erupted on Marissa’s face. “Cluck, cluck, it’s time to get the eggs, time to get the eggs, time to get the eggs,” she rambled as she left us. She disappeared around the same corner of the house where I had first spotted her.

I swallowed, recovering from the strange encounter with Marissa. “Thank you again for you time,” I said reaching down to shake Wilma’s hand. She held onto to my mine longer than necessary, making me feel more uncomfortable.