Assaulted Pretzel (13 page)

For Jakob. And for Martha.

She looked up as a horse-drawn buggy passed, the orange triangle affixed to its back a reminder to English drivers to use caution when approaching. A little girl in a head cap
peeked out at Claire from the buggy’s back flaps before disappearing inside with the hint of a smile playing across her cupid bow mouth.

“Good day, Claire.”

Startled, she turned to her left to find Benjamin driving a second buggy she hadn’t heard approaching. “Hi, Benjamin. I didn’t see you there.” She stepped over to the side of the buggy and looked up at the Amish man, the Pavlovian flutter virtually instantaneous inside her chest. “How are you?”

“I am good.” He loosened his hands on the reins and nodded his head ever so slightly. “You are not working today?”

She turned her head just long enough to take in Daniel Lapp’s farm before meeting Benjamin’s deep blue eyes once again. “I was supposed to be. But I asked Esther to cover for me while I take a walk.”

“You are still troubled about your aunt?” he asked.

There were so many things she was troubled about at that moment she didn’t know how to respond. Sure, she was still worried about Diane. Having a mourning woman staying at the inn brought a very different feel to Sleep Heavenly and left Diane seeming almost directionless. But as hard as that was to witness, the stronger worry at that moment had far more to do with the man Benjamin once considered a childhood friend than with anyone else.

“I’m troubled about the whole situation,” she finally said after running various responses through her head.

“Situation?” Benjamin repeated as he followed her gaze down the road to Daniel’s place. “Ahhh. I share the same worry.”

She froze in place. “You do?”

“It is the talk of the town, Ruth says. People believe Mr. Karble was killed in anger and frustration. I can not dispute the anger. I can not dispute the frustration.”

“And the killing part?” she whispered.

Silence filled the morning air between them before Claire stole a peek in Benjamin’s direction only to find him studying her with an expression she couldn’t identify. What, exactly, he was thinking, she couldn’t be sure. But whatever it was, it made her stand a little straighter and straighten the hemline of her long-sleeved hunter green blouse atop her formfitting black slacks.

Benjamin cleared his throat and looked away, his hands tightening on the reins once again. “Daniel Lapp is a good man. He would not kill.”

Shaking off the sudden desire to run a quick finger comb through her shoulder-length auburn hair, she made herself focus on the conversation and not the man. “And what about Isaac Schrock? Can you say the same thing about him?”

An unexpected pause gave way to his response. “I can.”

“Why the hesitation?” she asked.

Benjamin pulled his left hand from the reins and rubbed at his clean-shaven face, an indication to those around him that he was unmarried. His foray into facial hair over a decade earlier had been cut cruelly short by the death of his young bride mere weeks after their wedding. Whether or not he’d ever remarry was a subject Claire had managed to avoid thus far during their months-long friendship.

“I do not mean to hesitate. Isaac is a good man. Hard worker. He has just been”—Benjamin cast about for the correct word before settling on one Claire found more than a little curious—“addle-headed lately.”

“How so?”

“He said he would bring a bench wagon to his sister’s home. He did not.”

Thanks to her ties with Esther, Claire knew that a bench wagon was the way in which the Amish transported church
benches between homes. Without the benches, the nearly thirty families that descended on the host family’s home for Sunday morning church service wouldn’t have anywhere to sit.

“Did he get in trouble from the bishop?” Claire asked.

“No. I did not tell of his mistake. I brought a bench wagon, instead.” Benjamin looked again toward the very farm Claire sought and released a quiet sigh. “Isaac has made many mistakes the past month or so. I think he has much on his mind.”

She took in everything she was hearing and reconciled it with what she knew. “The notion of his and Daniel’s deal with Karble Toys had to be in the forefront of his mind, don’t you think? I mean, they had a chance to provide jobs to many of their friends.”

“He had much on his mind
before
Mr. Karble was to come here.” Benjamin gestured toward the Lapps’ farm with his chin. “May I give you a ride the rest of the way?”

Feeling the flutter resurrect itself inside her chest at the invitation, Claire willed her head to answer what her heart could not. “I…I think I could use the walk. Besides, it’s such a beautiful day, don’t you think?”

Her words morphed into a quiet gasp as an unmistakable look of disappointment flitted across Benjamin’s face before disappearing behind his usual Amish stoicism. Tipping his hat forward a smidge, he managed a smile that stopped just shy of his breath-hitching blue eyes. “Then enjoy your day, Claire. I hope it is special. Like you.”

A lump formed in the base of her throat as his horse continued down the road, the sight of the orange triangle on the back of Benjamin’s buggy leaving her a little unsettled. From the moment she first laid eyes on Ruth and Eli Miller’s older brother, she’d felt a pull. At first, she’d chalked it up
to the almost movie-star good looks the plain Amish dress was unable to mute. The defined cheekbones, emphasized by the slow, genuine smile didn’t hurt, either. But it was more than that. Much more.

Benjamin Miller was kind in the way he listened and the way he responded. He led his brother and sister by example. And there was something about him that earned people’s respect whether in the Amish community as the leader Esther often described, or in the English world as a caring and thoughtful neighbor.

Even without Diane’s not-so-subtle reminders, Claire knew nothing could ever come of her feelings for the widower. He was Amish; she was English. But despite everything her head knew to be true, her heart never seemed to be able to completely let go.

Then again, she also felt a pull toward Jakob. With the detective, it had started in the same place, only instead of movie-star good looks, Jakob’s were more of the boy-next-door variety. The boy next door who grew up to be a knockout, anyway.

But just as had been the case with Benjamin, Jakob’s looks became all the more appealing once she got to know the man inside. A man who treasured the memories of his family so deeply he was willing to put his own heart on the line just to be closer to them.

She knew where Diane came in on the subject of Jakob thanks to some very different not-so-subtle remarks. And her aunt was right.

Still, Claire was torn.

Shaking her head free of the mental debate, she quickened her pace, anxious to get to Daniel’s before the afternoon run of Heavenly Tours’ customers demanded his attention. What she was going to ask the toy maker was a
work in progress. Many of the questions were probably ones Jakob had already asked. If he hadn’t, they were surely on his list. But maybe, just maybe, she would stumble across something he’d missed, something that would allow him to enjoy the act of helping his sister without simultaneously worrying whether that same help would destroy any inroads he hoped to make.

The sound of a diesel engine at her back made her stop and turn, her heart sinking in her chest as she did. Despite her best efforts, Keith Watson and his minibus of Amish enthusiasts had arrived, squashing any hope she had of cornering Daniel.

“Good day, Claire,” Keith called as he paused the bus at the base of the Lapps’ turnoff. “Nice day for a walk, isn’t it?” Glancing into the rearview mirror he flashed a warm smile at the dozen or so riders who filled the comfortable seats. “Folks, if you haven’t had an opportunity to stroll along Lighted Way’s shopping district yet, be sure to stop inside Heavenly Treasures. It’s a delightful little gift shop with all sorts of Amish-made items from dolls and bibs to quilts and rocking chairs. Miss Weatherly, right here, opened the shop a couple of months ago and it’s quickly becoming a favorite among our tourists.”

She lifted her hand in a wave to those sitting on her side of the bus and then smiled up at the driver. “Thank you, Keith.” Hooking a finger over her shoulder, she willed herself to take the high road. “Heading in to the toy shop?”

At Keith’s nod, she stepped onto the bus and looked down the aisle at his customers. “You are all in for quite a treat. Daniel makes his toys in a workshop at the back of his barn, and watching him in action is absolutely fascinating. In fact, that’s where I’m headed at the moment, as well.”

A wave of smiles made its way through the bus,
prompting one from Keith in return. “Then why don’t you hop in that first seat right there and I’ll take you the rest of the way up the driveway.”

Slowly, the bus ambled up the dirt path and came to a stop in front of the white outbuilding depicted on Rob Karble’s camera. Opening the door, Keith looked back at his passengers and smiled. “Okay, folks, we’re here. Enjoy.”

Seconds later, as the first handful of people descended the steps, Daniel stepped outside and nodded a warm welcome to the English tourists. “Good afternoon. Welcome to my toy shop. There are many toys made by myself and by my friend, Isaac Schrock. When you are done, if you would like to see workshop”—he swept his arm toward the barn—“I would be happy to show you.”

At the tourists’ enthusiastic agreement, Daniel stepped aside to afford them entry into the toy shop. When Claire emerged from the bus behind Keith, the toy maker drew back, his brows scrunched together in surprise. “Miss Weatherly? You take Mr. Watson’s tour, too?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the look on the Amish man’s round, bearded face. “Not exactly. Keith picked me up at the end of your driveway.”

“Oh?”

“She was on her way to see you and it seemed silly to leave her there.” Keith glanced toward the open doors of the barn. “Sounds like Isaac is working now, yes?”

Daniel nodded. “He is.”

“Then when my folks are done looking and, hopefully,
buying
, why don’t you let Isaac take care of them in the workshop. I know Claire would like a moment of your time.” Keith tugged open the toy shop door and stepped inside, the delighted oohs and aahs from inside bringing a smile to Claire’s lips.

“People love your toys, Daniel. Adults, children, it makes no difference,” she mused. “And from what I’ve heard from Keith, the chance to get to watch an Amish toy maker at work was just the ticket in getting—and keeping—Heavenly Tours off the ground.”

“Mr. Watson’s customers are good customers for me, too. And they stay good customers even after they have gone home.”

“Which is why that catalogue you have is such a good idea.” She peeked inside a small window to the right of the door and took in the line forming at the counter. “Gives people a way to still buy our goods long after their vacation is over.”

“You have a catalogue, too?” he asked.

“I’m working on one, as well as a website where people can order online. Soon, though.” She gestured toward the toy shop. “I think you better head in. Looks like you’ve got quite a few grandmothers lined up to buy presents for their grandchildren right now.”

He moved toward the door but paused just shy of walking inside. “Sarah is inside the house. She has been tired lately. I think a visit would do her good. When I am done, we will speak.”

“I don’t want to intrude.” But even as Claire spoke, she knew her hesitation went much deeper than the standard protest. Sarah was already worried about Daniel. In fact, the woman’s worry ran so deep it had been one of two factors in why Martha had risked her standing in the Amish community to reach out to her excommunicated brother. To question Daniel about Rob Karble in front of Sarah wasn’t a good idea. “Besides, Sarah should be resting in her condition, not entertaining.”

“It is no intrusion. It will be a welcome visit.”

Long after Daniel disappeared into his toy shop, Claire remained standing in the exact spot she’d claimed, torn between doing what Daniel asked and listening to her gut. If she went into the house to see Sarah, she’d have to keep her questions tame. But if she didn’t go inside, she’d appear unfriendly—a persona that was against everything she wanted for herself…

Her mind made up, Claire headed toward the neatly kept farmhouse where Daniel and Sarah lived alongside their four children. A fifth child, who’d been due the previous spring, had died just before birth, making Martha’s concern for Sarah’s stress level all the more valid.

No, she’d keep their visit light and happy, saving her questions for Daniel until just the right moment. It was the least she could do for Sarah and baby number six.

A
ll thoughts of light and happy went out the window the moment Sarah Lapp answered Claire’s knock. For stretched across the young woman’s relatively nondescript face was the kind of stress and worry you simply couldn’t miss. It was there in the lines around her slender lips, and it was there in the dullness of her eyes and the tightness of her jaw.