A Marriage for Meghan Page 24

  “I picked them up when I went home.” Thomas lifted his legs straight in front of him to admire the boots. “How did you find me here?”

  “You’re joking, right? This is my secret hiding place. I’ll let you stay only if you promise not to tell a soul.” She winked at him before settling herself on her favorite log.

  “This place is special.” He arched his neck to view the treetops. “I’ve come here several times since I discovered it. All my frustrations disappear the moment I arrive.”

  “I hope that works for me today,” she said softy. “I just said some mean things to my father and I feel terrible.” Out the words tumbled, despite Meghan having no desire to reveal family matters. She picked up a handful of pebbles. One by one she tossed them into the stream.

  “That happens when a person is your age. Nobody reaches adulthood without a few go-rounds with their folks.” Thomas rested his chin on a knee and stared into the water.

  “You talk as though you’re so much older than me.” She pulled off her head covering to scratch her scalp. “How old are you anyway?” She replaced her kapp and then chanced a glance at him.

  “Almost twenty-nine, and I still get annoyed with my mother.”

  “What do you two fight about?” She inched closer on the log, as though someone might overhear them.

  “We don’t really argue. It’s more of a constant subtle pressure I feel while I’m home. Well, it’s really not subtle at all. She wants me to settle down with a nice, proper girl.”

  “And you have your heart set on a rotten, improper one?” Meghan tried to keep her face composed.

  Thomas nearly fell off his rock. “I keep forgetting that, unlike Catherine, you have a wicked sense of humor. But I must admit that meeting women in bars and clubs hasn’t worked out very well for me. The women I’ve met lately only seem interested in how much money I make.”

  Meghan tossed in the rest of her stones before leaning over to share a confidence. “There are some Amish women like that. I once heard a girl say she intended to marry the farmer with the biggest number of acres. I’m not joking about that. I thought her mother would faint dead away.”

  Thomas smiled with a wistfulness that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So even Amish men aren’t safe from women with agendas.”

  “What do you mean by ‘agendas’?”

  “A plan for their future instead of seeing what God has in mind.”

  She reflected on this. “I just hope God brings me the right one.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s what we all hope for. I’d better get back. My laptop should be recharged, and I have plenty of work to do before I heat up my supper.” He offered her a hand as they climbed up the embankment.

  “Thanks, Thomas. And you can come here anytime. But you’re still not allowed to tell people.” They walked through the meadow in silence until something jarred her memory. “I almost forgot what I was on my way to tell you.” Meghan repeated what Owen Shockley had told her on the playground.

  Thomas mulled over the information for a minute. “Thanks for letting me know, Meghan. This is the second time you may have helped the investigation.”

  “My father says everybody fills gas cans this time of year. And that I’m seeing suspects lurking behind every tree.”

  “Your dad has a point, but an investigator never knows which tips will pan out. We often wander down plenty of dead ends before we catch a break in the case.”

  Daylight faded as they walked, and a thin crescent moon rose over the distant hills. “Thanks, Thomas,” she whispered.

  “For what?” He angled his head toward her.

  “For not treating me like a silly little Amish girl.” She was glad it was too dark to see her face.

  “Well, you are a tad on the short side, and no one would dispute the fact you’re Amish. But, Meghan, you’re the smartest woman I’ve met in a long time.” He patted her on the shoulder.

  She didn’t thank him or try to refute his assertion, despite his statement being a gross exaggeration. She neither chatted about the weather nor inquired further about his investigation. Because without warning, her emotions rolled themselves into a boulder-sized lump, and it had lodged smack in the center of her throat.

  Gideon hadn’t been watching for his daughter. Not at all. He just happened to pull back the kitchen curtain to peer outside. And who should walk into the moonlight by the dawdi haus but Meghan and Agent Mast. He ground his teeth but held his tongue when she entered through the back door. With Ruth and Catherine busy with dinner, pressing the issue right now would only further alienate the girl. He concentrated on his newspaper when Meghan came into the room, grinning merrily.

  Ruth and Catherine both turned from their tasks. “I’m sorry, mamm and Cat, for not helping with supper,” she said. “I decided to take a walk to clear away my headache. I’ll clean up the kitchen alone tonight to make up for it.”

  Ruth transferred pork chops from the baking sheet to a platter with tongs. “Wash your hands, child. We’re ready to eat. The spring fever bug bites everyone eventually. No harm done.”

  Catherine carried four bottles of salad dressings and a bowl of greens to the table. “I’d rather cook than scrubs pots and pans anyway, so I’m pleased with the arrangement.”

  After Meghan disappeared into the bathroom, Gideon laid down his paper. “Does that gal seem different to you? More lively…and distracted?”

  “Meghan?” the other two chimed in chorus. Catherine shrugged her shoulders, while Ruth said, “She seems to be our Meggie to me. No different than usual.”

  Soon the prodigal daughter returned with clean hands and face, along with his two sons. During the meal James and John talked endlessly about which single young ladies might attend an upcoming social event. Even his bold as brass youngest couldn’t get a word in sideways.

  But Gideon hadn’t been reassured by either Catherine’s or his fraa’s opinion. Meghan was acting strangely in his estimation. And he believed the cause of her exuberance lived in the house next door. Because talking to her had worked as well as harnessing a goat, he decided instead to speak to the object of her fascination. With everyone busy with evening chores, Gideon crossed the yard to the house his parents had lived in.

  “Hullo, Agent Mast?” he called at the window. He’d always hated knocking.

  After a few moments, the door swung wide. “Bishop Yost,” greeted Thomas. “I was catching up on paperwork. Come in, sir.”

  “Thank you. I trust you’ve either found everything you need or haven’t been too shy to ask.”

  “I’m as comfortable here as my own home. How about a cup of instant coffee? The kettle is still hot.”

  Gideon stared at the oak dining table, one he had sat around as a young boy. Two kerosene lamps burned brightly on either side of the man’s computer. Other than one thin manila folder, no papers were anywhere to be seen. Paperwork must mean something different in the world of federal law enforcement. His gaze scanned the room, settling on the open doorway to the bedroom. The bed had been neatly made, with the quilt tucked beneath plumped-up pillows. A pair of slippers rested on the braided rug next the bed, while a suitcase sat on the blanket chest, zipped shut. Tidy—everything in its place and a place for everything, as his grossmammi used to say.

  The bishop looked up to find Thomas staring at him. “You certainly don’t have much stuff. Most Englischers pack what must be everything they own.”

  “That’s how my parents travel. Let’s have that coffee, Bishop.” He padded into the kitchen.

  Gideon had no choice but to follow. “Ah, in here, you’ve put your personal touches on the place.” He pointed at a loaf of Italian bread and a box of store-bought donuts on the counter.

  Thomas laughed. “I must admit I do pack light. I’m not much of a collector at home either. My condo is furnished almost as simply as this…almost, but not quite. Coffee or tea?”

  The bishop shook his head. “Neither one, thank you. I’m
not here for a social visit. I came to talk to you.” Gideon looked into the agent’s incongruously blue eyes against his olive skin and dark hair.

  Mast leaned against the counter. “Please speak your mind, sir.”

  “My Meghan appears to be taken with you. She invents any excuse to visit or follow wherever you go. I know you have a job to do, but while you’re here, please steer clear of my daughter. She’s not the one for you.” Gideon spoke rapidly and succinctly to get the onerous task over with.

  It took several seconds for Thomas to regain his bearings after that brief speech. All casual friendliness vanished from his demeanor. Then he said tightly, “I assure you, Bishop, that my behavior toward your daughter has been respectful and circumspect at all times.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Meghan is a teenager, and I’ve never thought of her as anything else.” A note of anger shaded his words.

  “Jah, jah, of course. I’m doing a poor job of expressing myself. I didn’t mean to accuse or insult you, but to seek your help. Because Meghan is at an impressionable age, I don’t want the English world to seem overly appealing. It could be your lifestyle, not you personally, that holds the attraction. But a gal’s reputation is everything in our community, whether she wishes to marry some day or remain a maiden teacher.”

  Thomas seemed to relax somewhat. “What would you have me do?”

  Gideon thought for a minute but remained flummoxed. “I’m afraid I hadn’t gotten that far with my plan. Maybe to offer no encouragement to a woman whose imagination needs very little to take flight.”

  Agent Mast straightened, nodded his agreement, and extended his hand. “You have my word I’ll neither encourage Meghan nor over-glamorize English ways.”

  Gideon shook hands. “Thank you, Thomas. I am in your debt for that. And I apologize for disrupting your evening.”

  The bishop left the dawdi haus with a much lighter heart. Now all that was left for him to do was pray…and ask that his youngest child didn’t wander too far from the path.

  “Give me one good reason why you don’t want to go?”

  Catherine’s question, the third variation on the exact same theme, was starting to annoy Meghan. “I have a stomachache. The sauerkraut at dinner isn’t sitting well.”

  “I’ll get you some Tums before we leave. What else?”

  “I’m perfectly comfortable curling up in a chair and reading for the rest of the day. We already visited and socialized plenty. Give me one good reason why I should attend tonight’s singing?” Meghan couldn’t imagine why Catherine was being so insistent. It wasn’t as though she wanted to mingle—all Cat wanted to do on Sundays was dream about Isaiah and the day they would marry.

  But it took the older Yost sister no time to formulate an answer. “It would get daed off your case if you attended an Amish social gathering. He seems to think you’re interested in Thomas and wish to run off to the city with him.”

  Meghan pushed back from her writing desk to stare at her sister. The woman didn’t appear to be joking. “That is absolutely ridiculous.”

  Catherine sat on a chair near their bedroom window, embroidering tiny flowers on a white pillowcase. She looked like a perfectly content bride-to-be. “You know that, and I know that, but all our father sees is you tracking down Thomas with your latest clues.” She peered over her magnifier glasses.

  “To help him solve his case. What’s wrong with that?” Meghan began pacing their room.

  “Nothing, but parents always fear the worst. They also tend to relax when their offspring behave like normal youths, hence my suggestion about the singing.”

  “All right. I’ll go, but not alone. You must come too. Our bruders will be concentrating on whom they can take home and won’t want me tagging along. And I don’t want to walk home alone. The hosts for the singing live three miles away.” Meghan paused at the other window, confident her condition would end the discussion. Catherine hated single social events ever since Isaiah had captured her heart.

  “Okay.” Catherine jumped to her feet. “Let me just transfer the cookies I baked yesterday into a take-along container.” She hurried downstairs, leaving Meghan wondering why she’d fallen so easily into the spider’s web.

  But once they arrived at the singing, Meghan was glad she’d come. Chatting with some old school chums, she learned one had visited Walt Disney World in Florida for a rumschpringe trip while another had taken the train to see the Atlantic Ocean. She thought it was funny how different women were. Meghan had never experienced an urge to see the world. Life in Shreve, Ohio, was interesting enough for her.

  During the singing she sat between Catherine and a former barrel racing pal. The girl had given Meghan the most competition, finishing second to her first place two years ago. But catching up with news would have to wait as the leader called out the name of the first song. Meghan sang loudly with complete assurance, even without perfect pitch or the ability to carry a tune. Voices raised in praise always lifted her spirits. Despite the district’s troubles, knowing that God had their future firmly and lovingly in control made her feel better. When she raised her hand to suggest the next song, she noticed a pair of green eyes studying her from afar…Jacob.

  Seeing him warmed her heart. The bonds of friendship they had forged would surely withstand the strain of the past several months. This cold, damp spring wouldn’t last forever. Soon the school year would be over, and she would have long summer days to win back her friend and restore the relationship she’d destroyed. He would forgive her rude behavior just like the time he’d forgiven her for eating his entire bag of jelly beans. Jacob Shultz was a kind and patient man. Flashing him a smile over her songbook, she didn’t mind that his response was lackluster at best. Meghan Yost could be patient too. God would make all things right again—in their district and for the two of them.

  At the snack table, she loaded her plate with gingersnaps, chocolate chip cookies, pineapple upside down cake, and homemade fudge. Picking up a glass of lemonade, she walked outdoors to find her friends. Instead, she spied Catherine sitting alone on the wooden swings. She hurried to join her.

  “Goodness, Meggie. Is there any dessert left for other people?”

  Meghan noticed only two small cookies on Cat’s plate, plus a few carrot sticks. “I seem to have my appetite back, so it’s every man, woman, and child for themselves.”

  Her sister grinned and sipped her lemonade. “I heard you singing like you did in the old days.” Cat always wove teasing words subtly through her compliments.

  “The Good Book says to ‘Make a joyful noise unto the Lord.’” Meghan devoured the piece of cake in two large bites.

  “In that case, God must have been smiling during that last song.”

  “Oh, there’s Rachel Goodall. She goes right past our place on the way home. She probably rode with her sisters, and maybe they can fit two more in the buggy. I’ll be right back, Cat. I’ll try to line up a ride. I’d rather not walk if it can be avoided.” Meghan set her plate on the swing and marched toward the knot of girls. They had their heads close together as though sharing a tidbit of gossip.

  “Hi, Rachel,” Meghan said when she drew near. “Could you squeeze a couple more skinny girls in your buggy? We don’t want to ride home with James or John.”

  Rachel’s complexion turned the color of old snow, while her friends grew instantly silent. After an uncomfortable span of two or three seconds, Rachel pulled Meghan away from the group. “I’m glad you came over. I had something to talk to you about too.” Her skin color turned even paler. “First of all, jah, you and Catherine can ride home with my schwestern.” Rachel acted as thought she had more to say, but then she was silent.

  “Okay, thanks,” said Meghan. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting mighty strange.”

  With a short intake of breath, Rachel continued. “There will be room in our buggy because Jacob Shultz asked to take me home from the singing. In his courting buggy,” she added to make sure her meaning was clear. “B
ecause you and I have always been friends, and he used to be sweet on you, I wanted to make sure that was okay.”

  It took Meghan a couple of moments for the words to line up and make sense. And then a few more before her ability to speak returned. Finally, she croaked out a cohesive sentence. “Of course it’s okay. Why wouldn’t it be? Thanks for letting me know.”

  After granting her approval, Meghan needed to escape—back to her sister and then home, but certainly not in the Goodall buggy. Rachel suddenly grabbed her and hugged tightly. “Oh, danki, Meghan. If you were upset, I would have told Jacob no. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. But since you’re okay with this, I’ll go tell him jah. Danki, Meggie,” she said again and offered another hug. Then off she ran toward the barn, leaving Meghan standing in the yard.

  Seventeen

  Thomas had a hard time getting the bishop’s words off his mind. Stay away from Meghan Yost? He’d felt insulted at first. The girl seemed barely beyond childhood despite her age. But when he thought about it from Gideon’s perspective, he understood his anxiety. How difficult it must be for an Amish father to watch his fledglings test their wings, hoping they would remain faithful to a centuries-old lifestyle.

  Did his grandparents suffer over his mom and dad’s heartbreaking decision? No doubt they had. The bishop would rest easier when the criminals were caught and life for the Yost family returned to normal… for more reasons than one. Yet considering what Thomas planned to do at the Justice Center, that day apparently wasn’t around the corner.

  A few things had bothered him about their arrest, even before the suspicious fire at the Esh farm. Justin King and his cousins had been seriously seeking employment since moving to the Misty Meadow Campground. The FBI’s data analyst took no time to find their recent activity on Internet employment search engines. Every one of them had sent résumés throughout the four-county area.