Rachel couldn’t imagine a woman her age being alone. Among the traditional Amish, families were huge and they were always together on the Sabbath, birthdays, and holidays. No one would leave an elderly relative to live without support and care, especially at the end of life.
Rachel rose and put her arms around her guest.
For a few moments, Mrs. Morris’s body quivered with sobs and she wept against Rachel’s shoulder, and then finally she regained control. “What you must think of me,” she said. “But I’m terrified. I’ve made such a mess of my life and now I have to go home and make . . . arrangements for my own funeral.” Her chin quivered and tears welled up in her eyes again. “I’m tired and I’m sick and I want to see my son. And . . . I know it’s too late to make up for all those lost years.”
Rachel patted her shoulder. “It’s never too late to ask for forgiveness and to be forgiven.” She glanced at the Bible on the nightstand. “Have you prayed about it?”
“I’ve tried, but . . .” She drew in a deep breath. “Why would God help me when I caused this grief myself? I returned my son’s letters unopened; I refused to attend his wedding when he married a foreign woman of another religion, and I’ve never seen my two grandchildren. All these years, all these hurt feelings and bitter words, it’s too late to make things right.”
“With God, all things are possible. And I know that your son and daughter-in-law would love to hear from you.”
“You sound like my minister.” Mrs. Morris sniffed. “You may be right. I will pray on it.” She stiffened. “But now, if you don’t mind, I’d like the opportunity to regain my dignity and sample that pie you brought up with my sandwich.”
Rachel handed her a tissue and the woman blew her nose. “Would you like me to stay for a while?” Rachel asked.
“Don’t you have something worthwhile to do? This place can’t run itself.”
Rachel smiled. “If you want me here, there’s nothing I’d rather do than stay with you.”
“No, you’ve done enough. And I’ve cried enough.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Go along and leave a silly old woman to finish her pie in peace.”
Chapter 9
The following day, Rachel turned onto the gravel road that led to Charles Baker’s property. A mixture of sleet and rain peppered off her windshield. She’d already been to the Hertzler farm, hoping to talk with Rosh. She wanted to know how he found out about Daniel and whether or not he decided to tell Mary Rose or if someone sent him to tell. Mary Aaron had been checking around and no one knew anyone other than Moses, Lemuel, and Joe who had been hunting on that side of Blue Mountain. But word had passed quickly through the woods when Daniel was found, and several Amish men had gathered around his body before someone called the police.
Rachel was still wondering about the discrepancy concerning the day Moses was arrested and how Rosh knew the police were at the farm. She knew it was probably a pointless detail, but it was still nagging her. Her questions went unanswered, though, because no one came to the door at the Hertzler farm, and there was no sign of a family buggy.
Rachel had also wanted to speak with Alma and Mary Rose to tell them that she had received the news that Irene Glidden had agreed to represent Moses and he would at least allow her to be present for his hearing. There was no one at home there, either. She hoped that her attempt to find Charles Baker would be a little more fruitful. Otherwise, she would have wasted an entire morning.
As concerned as she was about Moses and the ordeal he faced, Rachel couldn’t get Mrs. Morris off her mind. As an innkeeper, she had to draw a line between caring and interfering, but she wished there were some way she could contact the woman’s son. Surely, if he knew the truth about his mother’s health, he would let go of the years of contention and call her before it was too late. Rachel had prayed about Mrs. Morris last night, and she’d even spoken with Evan about her by phone.
He’d suggested she try to convince Mrs. Morris to talk with Reverend Hawkins, the new minister at their church. She might not be a Methodist, but the young cleric had a gift of providing comfort to those at the end of their lives. Although she’d only known Reverend Hawkins a few months, he was going to officiate at her wedding. As sorry as she was to see their old minister leave, Rachel had liked Reverend Hawkins from the day of his first sermon. Not only was he a compassionate and intelligent person, he was an excellent listener. She was sure that Leroy, as he’d asked his community to call him, had a true calling for the church, and best of all, he did it with a gentle handshake and warm laughter.
That morning, Mrs. Morris had come down for breakfast and said she was feeling a little better. There had been no reference to the conversation she and Rachel had shared in her room. Other guests had been present, so Rachel hadn’t brought up the possibility of her talking with Reverend Hawkins at breakfast. However, she’d checked in on Mrs. Morris later and offered to set up a meeting with the minister. Since Leroy’s wife taught preschool, he often had their six-month-old baby daughter with him, and little Sophie Marie’s sweet face and adorable antics were wonderful for making friends out of strangers. Mrs. Morris said she would think on the meeting.
Rachel was pulling into Baker’s dirt lane when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She braked to a stop and checked the caller ID before answering. “Hey.”
“Hey. Where are you?” Mary Aaron asked.
“Almost to Charles Baker’s.”
“Why
