Falling to Pieces (11 page)

The rest of the evening was a blur. Callie told her story again, this time in more detail.

The clock on her dash read twelve thirty by the time she climbed into the rental and drove back to Daisy’s Quilt Shop.

She didn’t remember she was once again without a cell phone until she’d looked up and saw the
Gazette
fading in her rearview mirror. Her morning would have to begin with another trip to see Mr. Cooper, since Gavin would insist that her cell phone was evidence. Not that anyone had determined there had been a crime. Apparently they were being “thorough”—their word. In Callie’s opinion, they needed more crime to amuse the Shipshewana police.

He watched the entire thing from the building across the street.

It hadn’t played out exactly like he’d hoped, but close enough. Close enough.

The important thing was that Stakehorn was dead, or at least that was the first step toward the most important thing. The next part would be easy now.

Probably Shipshewana’s finest would determine the old man died of natural causes. If not, if they were smart enough to figure it out—which he doubted—then they could pin it on the woman. She was the perfect suspect since she’d been seen arguing with him earlier in the evening.

B
Y SIX THE NEXT MORNING,
Deborah was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. She’d already been up over an hour—fixing lunches, laying out clothes, taking care of the baby who woke up crying with a wet diaper—then fell quickly back asleep.

She looked out the kitchen window and saw Jonas walking from the barn, carrying fresh eggs. Twice a week their neighbor Reuben brought some by, traded them for apples from their orchard in the fall.

“I’ll use them tomorrow,” she said, smiling at him as he banged through the back door. “Set them in the fridge for me, please. I hope you thanked Reuben for bringing them by.”

Deborah set out a bowl of raisins and a jar of cinnamon sugar, then turned back to the gas-powered stove to stir the oatmeal.

“Eggs isn’t all he brought, Deb. He brought some big news too.”

Deborah gave him her full attention.

“Reuben and his cousin Tobias are both staying together at his
grossdaddi’s
old place.”

“Ya,
I remember.”

“Well, Tobias works at the feed store across from the
Gazette,
and he came in talking about Stakehorn last night. Seems he died.”

“He what?” Deborah dropped the spoon she’d been stirring with into the pot of oatmeal.

Jonas handed her another to fish it out with.

“Dead? And he was sure?”

“Saw him carted off on a gurney with a sheet pulled up over his face.”

“But how? I don’t remember hearing he was ill.” Deborah removed the pan from the stove, divided the breakfast into portions, then scrubbed the pan vigorously as she checked over her shoulder to see if the twins had made it down the stairs yet. “Did Tobias know what he died of?”

“No. He only said Gavin and Taylor stayed out in front of the shop until three a.m. Then the county people showed up and removed the body.” Jonas poured himself a mug of
kaffi
and sat down at the table.

“The county people? Do you mean Shane Black?”

Jonas ran his thumb under his suspender, took a moment before answering her.
“Ya
. I think Tobias did say it was Black.”

“Of course Black had to be called. That’s standard procedure. He even checked on Daisy when I found her in the garden. I wonder if Callie knows Stakehorn is dead. She was supposed to meet with him.”

“According to Tobias, Callie was there. She sat out front quite a long time answering questions—first from Gavin and Taylor, then from Black.”

Deborah stopped drying the pan, set it carefully on the back of the stove, glanced at the twins as they clomped down the stairs. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s all Reuben knew. Tobias was working late to put up a new delivery of feed. He didn’t see her go in, but saw her rental car later when Gavin arrived.”

Deborah let go of the pan she’d been grasping. Wiping her hands on the dish towel, she helped the boys settle at the table.

“I wanted cinnamon toast,
Mamm
.” Joseph rubbed at the sleep in his eyes.

Jacob picked up his spoon and dug into his oatmeal.

Deborah kissed them both on top of the head, and smiled at Martha and Mary as they slid into their seats across the table. “I’d like to go and see her today.”

Jonas nodded, and then reached for the sugar in the middle of the table and sprinkled it on top of his own bowl of oatmeal. He added some of the raisins, winked at the boys, and added a handful to theirs.

Deborah sank into her chair. “Jonas, I called Callie from the phone shack last night. She was going over to show him the recording of our conversation.”

“I wouldn’t worry. A recording can’t kill someone.”

Martha’s eyes widened as she swallowed a spoonful of breakfast. “Who was killed?”

“No one was killed, darling. Mr. Stakehorn, the newspaper editor, died last night.”

“I don’t think I knew him,” Martha said, squirming in her chair.

“Will we be going by his house?” Jacob asked, always looking for an excuse to go to town.

“It’s doubtful. He was an Englisher, and they do things differently than the Amish.”

“We went to Miss Daisy’s funeral,” Martha reminded her.

“I remember. I liked the cookies,” Joseph piped up, finally looking awake. “Is it wrong to say you liked the cookies at someone’s funeral?”

“No, son. It’s never wrong to have a fond memory of someone.” Jonas took another drink of his
kaffi.
The family fell into silence as each person focused on their breakfast—and Deborah focused on her memories, of Daisy, Stakehorn, and finally all of her previous dealings with Shane Black. She was startled
back to the present by the boys’ giggles as they played with extra raisins.

Jonas cleared his throat and said, “Speaking of remembering, I seem to remember two boys who have chores to do.”

Joseph and Jacob glanced at each other, stuffed in two more bites, then scooted out of their chairs in a hurry.

“I get Lightning’s stall,” Jacob declared.

“You had her last time.” Joseph hurried across the room to catch up with his brother.

“Both of you come back here.” Jonas’s voice plainly brokered no argument.

The boys froze in place, then turned and walked back to the table.

“Dishes.” Jonas nodded to the bowls and spoons they’d left at their seats.

“Yes,
Daed.”
Their voices sounded in unison. They picked up their breakfast dishes and set them in the sink, then looked toward the door. They didn’t move though, only glanced at each other trying to remember what else they might have forgotten.

“Thank your mother for a good breakfast. She works hard for you.”

“Danki, Mamm.”
Again their voices came out in unison.

“Gern gschehne.”
Deborah suddenly wished she could freeze the moment. Only yesterday they were Joshua’s age. Where had the years gone?

With a nod from Jonas, they grabbed their straw hats from the hooks by the door and headed off toward the barn.

“They’re
gut
boys,” Deborah said as she moved toward the sink and added hot water and soap.

Jonas kissed her on the cheek. “That they are.”

Martha went off to dress baby Joshua, and Mary joined her at the sink, though she had to stand on a stool to help dry the dishes as Deborah washed.

Deborah’s mind flashed back on the previous evening, how
she’d stood in Mary’s place as Ruth had washed dishes. It brought her some peace to know that certain things stayed the same from one generation to the next.

But when she pulled the plug on the drain and watched the water swirl down, she couldn’t help wondering if more pain was in store for her friends—knowing, as Ruth had pointed out, she may not be able to stop it.

What would happen to the auctioning of their quilts now?

And what did the Lord have in store for Callie Harper?

Three hours later the boys were in the field with Jonas; Martha and Mary were at their
Aenti’s
helping with some early summer canning. Baby Joshua had been up, fed, played for two hours, and was down for his morning nap.

Melinda and Esther were once again seated across from her.

“We can’t just sit here and quilt,” Melinda reasoned.

“We can, but we shouldn’t.” Esther looked down at the half-finished friendship quilt in front of them. “We should do something.”

“Ya,
I agree.” Deborah stood, walked over to the window. “I think maybe we should go into town. See if there’s something she needs. Should we wait until the children are up though?”

“They’ve slept in the buggy before.” Melinda stood and began folding the quilt. “I needed to go by the General Store anyway. We can accomplish two errands at once.”

In fifteen minutes they’d loaded up all three carriages.

Jonas had already pulled Cinnamon out, harnessed her up to the rig. “Thought you might want to leave early.”

She smiled down at him as he handed up baby Joshua.

“Boy is growing,” he added.

“Probably will look like his
daed
one day.” The bantering helped to ease some of her worry. Surely Callie was fine. She’d seemed so much better since reopening the shop, and though Mr. Stakehorn’s death was a shock—death was a part of life.

So why did she have this niggling feeling that their troubles were just beginning?

Callie stood at the counter, exhausted but awake thanks to three strong cups of coffee. Max lay near her feet, a green bandana tied around his neck, tail thumping—ever her faithful companion.

“I should have taken you with me last night,” she murmured. “I suppose I’ve learned my lesson.”

He stood, pressed his cold nose into her hand, then turned in a circle twice and flopped flat on the floor.

Looking out the window, she was surprised to see three buggies pull up at once. She’d had two customers so far since opening, but it had been a somewhat slow morning for a market day.

Peering out the window, she hurried around the counter when she saw Deborah, then Melinda, and finally Esther exit their buggies. She’d only met Esther once, when she’d stopped by to bring cookies for the opening. Melinda had been by twice. And of course, it seemed as if she’d known Deborah for years. All the women had their babies with them.

“Looks like a hens’ meeting, Max. Hang on to your collar!” Her spirits lifted immediately though. She could use some feminine company, even if they weren’t aware of what had happened last night. The only question was whether she should tell them of her evening’s events.

Callie opened the front door and started down the walk, but she didn’t make it halfway before being engulfed in Melinda’s skinny arms. The smell of line-dried cotton overwhelmed her senses, even as she returned the hug. Melinda’s show of affections surprised her. Callie was southern born and bred, where hugs were commonplace, but she’d always heard Amish folk were a bit more standoffish. So far the people she’d met in Shipshewana were shattering stereotypes.

“You poor thing. To think that you were at the newspaper so late, and you still opened this shop. I just don’t see how you do it.” Baby Hannah squirmed and cooed as she was pressed between the two women.

Callie stepped back. Melinda adjusted her glasses, and Hannah waved a fist into the air before she let out a shout.

“Did we squish her?” Callie asked.

“Of course not. It’s time for her mid-morning feeding is all.”

“There are some comfortable chairs at the back of the shop.”

“Ya,
Daisy used to hold a quilting circle back there.”

Melinda moved past her, into the shop, but she was quickly followed by Esther, holding Leah’s hand. Leah clutched a doll who was dressed in Amish clothing identical to her own—right down to the peach-colored dress and white prayer
kapp.

“You must be exhausted,” Esther said. Her voice was calm and even, but her eyes betrayed her concern, that and her offering. “We brought food.”

Holding out a plate of breads and cheeses, her gaze met Callie’s. She didn’t smile exactly, but Callie saw something in her expression—was it understanding?

Before she could figure it out, Esther had bent down to speak with her daughter, and Deborah had squeezed between them.

“Are you upset?” She reached to touch Callie’s arm, juggling baby Joshua onto her opposite hip.

“No. Maybe a little. It was a long night.” Callie rubbed at her forehead where a headache had been threatening all morning.

“Should we leave? If it’s a bad time—”

“Huh-uh. I’m glad you came. I’ve been chasing things around in my mind all morning.”

“Wunderbaar.
We’ll chase them together.”

Deborah corralled everyone to the back of the store, to the quilting area Melinda spoke of. Cushy arm chairs were arranged in a semi-circle facing the front of the store, and an Amish-made coffee table sat in the middle.

It was the one part of the store Callie had somewhat ignored. Though it was now clean, she hadn’t decided how she wanted to use it—since she didn’t exactly plan on staying.

It wasn’t as if she could schedule classes.

Or start a quilting group.

Or invite friends over.

Everyone except Esther sank into a chair, leaving the one in the center—the one directly facing the front door—for Callie. Esther arrived with the hot water from the kitchen and four mugs, plus an array of teas.

“Best thing for a death is a cup of strong tea.”

“How did ya’ll know?” Callie accepted the mug as well as her usual lemongrass and spearmint tea. Though she hadn’t had the stomach to eat any breakfast, suddenly the homemade bread array Esther had brought looked rather appealing. She selected a slice of banana nut from the tray on the table, then sat back, looking at the three women and waiting for an explanation.

Esther and Deborah shared a smile. Melinda simply gazed down at her baby.

“It’s the Amish grapevine,” Deborah explained. “We might not have telephones, but word travels fast from house to house when something of importance happens within our community.”

“A gossip grapevine?” Callie asked, one eyebrow raised.

“It can be that,” Esther acknowledged, “but most of us realize that if you spread gossip you’ll one day be on the hurting end of it.”

Callie thought of the logic in what she was saying, thought of Houston, and the hurt she’d suffered because of loose tongues.

“What Deborah’s speaking of is a little different.” Melinda traced her baby’s face as she continued to nurse. “We communicate in the old way—from household to household. News spreads fairly quickly.”

Deborah sat Joshua on the floor with his favorite toy, beside Leah who was playing with her doll. “Now tell us what happened.

We were very
naerfich
when we heard your car was in front of the building. Are you okay? And why did they keep you so long?”

Callie gave them the shortened version, stopping twice to help customers who came in for quilting supplies. She described Gavin’s initial abruptness and how helpful Taylor had been.

No one seemed surprised.

“Gavin is a bit new on the force,” Esther explained.

“I believe it was only six years ago last fall that he was hired.” Deborah’s voice was serious enough, but there was no mistaking the twinkle in her eye. “He’s still trying to prove himself.”