Bygones (25 page)

She slammed through the door, thrusting her hands deep into her pockets. She and her mother had walked to Joanna’s—she followed the same route back to Lisbeth’s.

As she passed houses, she couldn’t help but peek through plate-glass windows to the groups gathered inside. The scenes she
witnessed—smiling, laughing groups—provided a stark contrast to the isolation she felt as she walked under leafless trees across brown yards. Back in Cheyenne, even with only Mom for family, she’d never felt as alone as she did right now, in this community where grandparents and aunts and uncles and countless cousins resided.

Hunching into her jacket, she forced her gaze straight ahead and moved as quickly as she could over the uneven ground. How she wished Lisbeth hadn’t sent Henry Braun with that message. How she wished Mitch hadn’t talked her into heeding the request. How she wished. . . She sighed. Wishing was a waste of time. Nothing would ever be the same.

When she reached Lisbeth’s, she went into the house and grabbed the car keys from the corner of the kitchen counter. No way was she staying here by herself. Not when there were things she could be doing. Things that would benefit her—and Mom—once her time in Sommerfeld was over.

“I’m doing this for you, Mom,” she muttered, “and you’ll understand it all when I finally get you out of here.” Beth started the engine, backed out of the drive, and headed for the gravel road that led out of town.

M
arie handed a dripping plate to Joanna, then plunged her hands back into the warm, sudsy water. With a chuckle, she said, “I never thought I would actually enjoy washing dishes after having an automatic dishwasher for so many years.”

Joanna laughed. “If someone’s sharing the chore, it can be almost pleasant. We used to have some good conversations over the dishpan, didn’t we?”

Marie sent her sister a smirk. “Yes, when Abigail wasn’t listening in so she could run and tattle if we said something we shouldn’t.”

“As if we ever said anything we shouldn’t have.” Joanna winked and bumped Marie’s arm with her elbow.

Marie giggled, relishing the kinship she’d renewed with her sister. She gave Joanna a sideways glance and dared to share a piece of her heart. “One of my biggest regrets with Beth is she never had the pleasure of brothers or sisters. You and I had such fun growing up, and she never experienced that.”

“She never had any fun?”

Joanna’s feigned expression of shock made Marie laugh, but she shook her head. “You know what I mean. She missed out on a lot.”

Joanna put down her dish towel and gave Marie a quick hug. “I’m sure she never realized she was missing anything. It’s obvious she adores you.”

Marie quirked her brow.

Joanna shook her finger under Marie’s nose. “Now stop that. What you’re going through with Beth right now is growing pains, pure and simple. It happens. But she loves you as much as you love her. Nothing will ever change that.” She took another plate and swished it dry with the embroidered tea towel.

Pain stabbed anew as Marie considered the shattered relationship between herself and her parents. Her hands stilled in the water as she remembered how many precious things had been destroyed by her decision to leave with Jep.

Joanna’s mind must have drifted in the same directions as Marie’s, because she dropped her gaze, her forehead creasing. “Sometimes, I suppose, relationships do change. But—” She met Marie’s gaze, her tone turning fervent. “Things can always be put to right again with a little effort.”

Considering her father’s behavior thus far, Marie wasn’t sure she agreed with Joanna, but she decided not to argue. No sense in upsetting her sister any more than Beth’s untimely departure three hours ago had. Lifting out a bowl, she forced a smile. “Effort. . .and time. . .and prayer.”

Joanna hugged the bowl to her chest, creating a wet circle on her apron bib. Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Marie, it thrills me to hear you say that. Do you know how much Lisbeth and Henry and I have prayed over the years for you to allow God back into your life? And now I see it happening. I’m so thankful!” Her voice broke.

Marie felt the sting of tears herself. She imagined her sister, her aunt, and Henry kneeling in prayer. . .for her. . .and felt humbled
by their steadfast concern. She would have expected Aunt Lisbeth and Joanna to maintain their desire to bring her back to faith—they were family. But Henry? Wonder filled her heart. The man she’d jilted had spent twenty years praying for her faith. How did one say thank you for that kind of dedication?

“And I believe,” Joanna went on, sniffling, “that our prayers will bring Dad around, too. If he bends, everyone else in the family will follow suit, from Abigail down to Conrad. So don’t lose heart, okay?”

Marie didn’t have to force this smile. She tipped her head to touch Joanna’s forehead, the little sign of affection she had used often as they were growing up. “I won’t.” Straightening, she added, “But I hope—”

A rap at the front door interrupted her words. Joanna’s eyes flew wide. “See! I bet that’s Abigail, Ben, and Conrad with their families, here to spend a little time with you.”

Marie’s heart pounded, and she licked her lips as her breathing increased. She mentally prepared a greeting for her older brother and sister as she followed Joanna to the front room, wiping her hands on the apron. Kyra, Kelly, and Gomer came from their bedrooms at the same time, and they were all gathered together when Hugo pulled the front door open.

To Marie’s disappointment, two men from town stood on the porch, hats in their hands, their expressions somber. Hugo invited them in, and Joanna bustled forward.

“Kurt, Robert, how good to see you this evening. I have some pumpkin pie and whipped cream left over if you’d like a piece.”

The men exchanged glances, and the taller of the pair shook his head. “That’s kind of you, Joanna, but we didn’t come for socializing.”

Hugo crossed his arms, his brows pinching together. “Oh?”

Marie’s scalp prickled when both men fixed their gazes on her.

The second man said, “There’s been some trouble in town today, and we thought you needed to know about it.”

An arm slipped around Marie’s waist. Marie jerked her gaze and found Kyra close. She gave the young woman a quick smile of thanks before looking back at the men.

“What trouble?” Hugo asked.

“Leonard Dick returned to his home after spending the afternoon at his daughter’s place. His front door stood open. The sleeping bench from his second bedroom was gone.”

Marie’s knees buckled, and she would have gone down if Kyra hadn’t supported her. Joanna guided her to the sofa, where she sank onto the cushion, her ears ringing, her heart pounding furiously. Beth had mentioned a sleeping bench when speaking of the items she hoped to buy. But she wouldn’t. . .would she?

“We’re telling everyone in town to be careful,” the taller man said. “Be sure your doors are locked, and maybe put the things you value under cover so they can’t be seen by peeking in windows.”

“Thank you, Kurt. We’ll do that.” Hugo’s voice sounded strained.

The man shifted his feet in a nervous dance. Marie focused on his hands, which twisted the brim of his hat. “Some of the men in town are going to set up a community watch day and night. If you want to be involved—”

“I sure do,” Hugo inserted.

“We’re getting together at eight this evening at the meetinghouse. We’ll see you there.”

The men left. Hugo closed the door, then turned his grim expression on Marie. “It sure would have been better if Beth had stayed here with us today.”

Joanna gasped. “Hugo! You don’t think—”

“I don’t want to.” Hugo pushed his hands into his pockets and
hunched his shoulders. “But everyone else in town was with family, celebrating the holiday.”

Marie rose on shaky legs. “She went home. I know she did. She’ll be there, waiting for me. You’ll see.”

Hugo looked at Joanna, who beseeched him with her eyes. Turning back to Marie, he said, “It’s getting dark. I’ll drive you.”

Marie knew it was a desire to satisfy himself to Beth’s whereabouts that brought about the offer, but she nodded mutely. She hugged her sister, nieces, and nephew, then followed Hugo to his car.

Lights shone in every house—more lights than Marie had seen before. People stood in yards in small clusters, talking. They stared as Hugo drove slowly down the shadowy streets.
Please be there, Beth. Please, let’s be able to prove them wrong
.

When Hugo pulled into Lisbeth’s yard, Marie noticed windows glowing in the front bedroom—Beth’s room. Her tense posture sagged with the rush of relief that swept through her. Hugo drove to the back of the house, where Marie’s car waited a few feet from the back porch, in the same spot she had left it yesterday when she returned from the café.

Her chest flooded with elation. “See? The car’s here, and Beth is here.”

Hugo walked her to the porch, but instead of stepping onto the wooden platform, he moved to Marie’s car and placed both palms on the red hood. He jerked his gaze toward Marie. The look on his face made her break out in a cold sweat.

“It’s warm.”

“I’m telling you, we need to go to that house, knock on the door, and demand to look around.” Jay Albrecht stood with crossed arms at the end of his bench, his dark eyebrows pulled down in a ferocious scowl.
Albrecht had assigned himself as leader of the meeting. Having had his grandfather’s mantel clock taken, he was the angriest of all the thief’s victims.

Henry noticed several men nod in agreement of Albrecht’s bold suggestion. Every male over the age of twenty-one appeared to be in attendance at this community meeting, including all four of Marie’s brothers, two adult nephews, and her father, who sat in a silent row on the preachers’ bench behind the empty podium.

“And if we found things, what then?” The question came from the back of the room, offered by Allen Wedel. The Wedel place had lost several enamel buckets and a hand plow.

“That would be proof,” Albrecht declared in a booming voice. “We could then take the Quinns to the police.”

The thought of Marie and Beth being hauled to the police station in one of the larger nearby towns made Henry feel as though someone had kicked him the stomach. He wanted to speak out in their defense, but his tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth.

Henry’s nephew Jacob rose and faced Albrecht. “Even if we did find the missing items, we wouldn’t be able to prove the Quinns stole them. Not unless they were seen taking them.”

Albrecht snorted. “Why would they have them if they weren’t responsible for the stealing?”

Jacob shrugged. “Maybe someone else took the things and hid them there.”

A snicker went across the room. Doug Ortmann asked, “For what purpose?”

“To make it look as though the Quinns were responsible.”

Albrecht waved his hand. “Bah! No one else has a reason to take those things. We all know why those women are here—to get whatever they can lay their hands on. And that’s exactly what they’ve been doing!”

The murmur of concurrence made Henry’s stomach churn.

Hugo Dick stood and joined Jacob. “I don’t agree, Jay. Maybe the daughter came to get what she could, but I don’t think we can say that about the mother.”