Plain Peril. Alison Stone
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sure, but she thought she saw her mother wince.
“Are you okay?” The screen door squeaked, and Hannah stepped into the small space. Memories crowded in on her. Hannah had spent long hours here visiting her own grandmother. Her mammy was the one person who loved her unconditionally. When Mammy died shortly before Hannah turned sixteen, Hannah had found herself rudderless between an overdemanding father and a too-passive mother.
“Tired is all.” Her mother waved away her daughter’s concerns. “Would you like coffee?” She took a step toward the stove.
“No, I can’t stay long. I want to make sure I’m in the house when Emma and Sarah wake up.”
Her mother shook her head in disbelief. She did that a lot since Ruthie died.
“Did you hear the commotion outside last night?”
Her mother paused. “Commotion?”
“My car alarm went off.” She omitted the part about the slashed tires. She hated to add to her mother’s grief.
“Neh.” Her mouth pursed her lips. “My hearing is neh gut.”
Hannah leaned against the counter and watched her mother slowly sit back down. Her mother took a sip of coffee then touched her head. “Your kapp.”
Hannah tugged on her apron with both hands. “But I’m wearing a dress.”
Her mother looked down without saying anything, renewed disappointment etched in her pale features. An expression Hannah had seen many times. An expression that had both frustrated and confused Hannah as a teenager. Why didn’t her mother say what she meant?
“Mem, I came back for Sarah and Emma...and you.” Hannah pulled out the chair across from her mother and sat. She angled her head to see into her mother’s eyes. “I don’t know what my future holds.”
Her mother lifted her brows. “Your sister said you were coming home.” Her hopeful tone broke Hannah’s heart.
Hannah dipped her chin, surprise making her momentarily speechless. “Ruthie told you about our visits?” Ruthie had sworn her to secrecy.
Her mother nodded. “Yah.” She fingered the handle of the coffee mug. “Are you ready to be baptized Amish? Find a nice Amish boy and marry? Maybe next year you can prepare—”
“No.” The single word came out sharp, angry. Hannah flattened her palms on the table and drew in a calming breath and said more softly, “Not yet, Mem. Not yet.” Hannah scratched her forehead. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t happy in Buffalo.” She was lonely and didn’t enjoy her job, but she hadn’t decided to return to the Amish way of life. Not permanently anyway. She was toying with the idea. Searching for happiness. Wondering out loud to her sister if she had been naive in her decision to leave the Amish community in the first place.
Perhaps saying as much to please her sister.
Or perhaps, in a way, dissuading her sister from making any big decisions that would alter her life irrevocably. As Hannah’s decision had forever changed her life.
Hannah covered her mother’s hand. “I’m here for the short-term until I know the girls are okay. Please, don’t get your hopes up about me returning for good.”
Disappointment creased the corners of the older woman’s sad eyes. “I thought with Dat gone...”
Although the rift between Hannah and her father was apparent to anyone with eyes, it pained her to hear her mother talk about it.
“Mem, please, let’s talk about this another time. We’re all trying to come to terms with Ruthie.”
“Gott has a plan.”
Hannah’s body tensed. “I wish God’s plan was to leave Ruthie here on earth with us. With her daughters.”
Her mother’s lips quivered. “Life is hard. You have to make decisions that are gut for the family. You can’t be selfish.”
The sting of her mother’s comments wounded her. Had Hannah been selfish?
“One day at a time, okay?” Hannah hated throwing out a silly platitude, but she wasn’t ready to make life-altering decisions right now.
Will I ever be ready?
Hannah didn’t want to discuss Ruthie’s husband, but it couldn’t be avoided. Not with John running around out there, somewhere. “Did Ruth ever say anything negative to you about John?”
Her mother’s eyes flashed momentarily dark. “Neh.” She shook her head vehemently. “I don’t know how things work in the English world, but a woman does not speak ill of her husband. And if she does, she’s just being gossipy.”
“I’m not gossiping.” She placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “Was John ever mean to Ruth?”
“John Lapp is the bishop’s son.” Agitation shook her mother’s hands, and she refused to meet Hannah’s gaze.
“John left Apple Creek when he was a teenager. He was gone for a long time. Maybe he wasn’t the son the bishop had raised.”
Her mother lifted her chin. “John came back. Was baptized. Married. It was gut.” Which was more than Hannah had done. The accusation in her mother’s eyes made Hannah’s cheeks fiery. Couldn’t her mother see she was doing everything she could? Everything short of promising to be baptized Amish.
“You like John Lapp?”
“Your sister and her husband took care of me. I am grateful to them.”
Unease settled in Hannah’s belly. Learning Ruthie was murdered would kill her mother. Hannah pushed away from the table. The whole truth would wait for another day.
Hannah brushed a kiss across her mother’s soft cheek. Her mother pulled back and widened her eyes, startled by the display of affection. Hannah started to leave but turned back one last time. Her mother was holding her fingertips to her cheek, where Hannah had kissed her.
* * *
“Burning the midnight oil, huh?” Mrs. Greene, Spencer’s elderly landlady, sat in her wicker rocker on the front porch, nursing her tea.
The screen door slipped out of his hand and thwacked against the door frame. “Sorry about that. Didn’t see you sitting there.”
“Got no air-conditioning in there. Cooler out here. Can’t imagine how hot it’s gonna be later if it’s already this hot at—” She squinted up at him “—what time is it?”
“Early.” Too early, considering he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. The red numbers on the digital clock by his bed read a blurry four-something by the time he left Miss Wittmer’s and climbed into bed. Despite assigning another officer to check in on the Lapp farm, he felt unsettled.
What was it about the brown-eyed beauty that had gotten under his skin? And what kind of danger was she in with John Lapp still out there?
Spencer eased down, balancing his coffee and sat on the top step. Mrs. Greene spoiled him. She brewed the best coffee and left a to-go mug on the hall table inside the front door every morning. She claimed she missed having her boys around. All of them had grown and moved on with their lives, leaving her to dote over the tenants of her two upstairs apartments, only one of which was occupied.
“You finally meeting some people in this town? Doing things besides work?” Mrs. Greene had a say-whatever’s-on-her-mind way of talking that didn’t always allow room for him to get a word in edgewise.
Smiling, Spencer lifted his coffee and inhaled its rich scent. “Last night was work.”
Mrs. Greene made a tsking noise. “How are you ever going to have a life if all you do is work?”
Spencer leaned back