Mary Aaron measured tea leaves into the teapot. “Ne, you’ll do fine without me. You’ll have Evan and his mother.” She made a face and added hot water from the electric kettle to the rose-patterned teapot. “Besides, I don’t think I’d like the food. It won’t be home-cooked, and it won’t be Deitsch.”
Rachel was afraid that her parents would feel exactly the same way. The rehearsal dinner for the wedding party was going to be at Magnolia, the new little restaurant in town. Evan’s mother had picked the place and the menu. Rachel’s dat was paying for it, despite Rachel’s protests, though she knew that he and her mother would not enjoy the evening. Her parents would be on their best behavior, though. Her father would smile and go along with it, but her mother would miss no opportunity to remember each unfamiliar custom and remark and remind Rachel repeatedly of the transgressions at a later time.
Rachel knew what was coming and hadn’t the slightest idea how to soften the disaster. She certainly wasn’t ashamed of her parents, but she could anticipate nothing but awkwardness for all involved. Evan’s mother would gush and Rachel’s mam would be polite but distant. And Evan, Evan who got along wonderfully with her parents and was adored by his mother, wouldn’t have a clue any of it was going on.
Rachel had been born into a conservative and isolated religious group in a house without electricity, a telephone, a radio, or TV. She hadn’t ridden on a public bus, in a cab, or on a plane until she was an adult. But sometimes she felt as if Evan was the innocent one, especially when it came to dealing with outward appearances and the undercurrent of emotions involved in the mixing of cultures. Marrying him meant that she was taking on a second mother, and her duties toward his remaining parent would be just as compelling as those she owed her own. It was no wonder that few Amish-born women ever left the faith or married outside it.
“You know, you’re supposed to be happy about this wedding,” Mary Aaron said, watching Rachel. She dropped her hands to her hips. “You don’t look happy.”
“I am happy. I want to marry Evan.” She groaned. “I just wish we didn’t have all this other stuff in the way.”
“Or your future mother-in-law.”
Rachel shook her head. “Ne, that’s not true. She has a lot of good points. In time, I’m sure we’ll become good friends.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” Mary Aaron said in a singsong voice.
“My father says marriage is all about learning to put the other partner first. If I put Evan first, then I’ll always treat his mother with respect and kindness.”
“I suppose.” Mary Aaron made a face. “I’m just glad she’s not going to be my mother-in-law.”
Rachel took a bite of the muffin. It was good, and she found, after the first bite, that she really was hungry. “I spoke to Irene this morning,” she said, changing the subject.
“Moses’s attorney.” Mary Aaron looked up from spreading butter on her muffin. “Anything new? Is he doing all right?”
“Irene thinks he’s extremely depressed. He barely speaks, and it looks to her as if he’s lost weight. He won’t budge from his insistence that he killed Daniel. The hearing is set for next week and I’ll be out of the country. I can’t even be there to support him and his family.” Rachel went to the whiteboard and began to erase the names of the people she and Mary Aaron had talked to over the last two weeks. “I feel like such a failure.”
“We tried our best,” Mary Aaron said. “And maybe the police are right. Maybe Moses really did shoot him, and that’s why we couldn’t find any proof to clear his name.”
“Maybe.” Rachel sipped at the remaining liquid in her mug, then finished wiping the board clean. “All this running around, me angering Evan, and I found out nothing.”
“Not nothing,” Mary Aaron insisted. “You found out that Daniel wasn’t the man most people thought he was. Which might be a motive to kill him.” She lifted the lid of the teapot to peer in, then looked up. “Oh, I forgot. Jake Sweitzer was visiting for his mother’s birthday yesterday. I got him to drive me over to the police station to pick up that police report you wanted.”
“I almost forgot all about the report,” Rachel admitted. “Thanks for going for me.”
Mary Aaron retrieved Rachel’s mug from her and poured them both fresh tea. “You wanted to know who found Daniel’s body. Right?” She carried Rachel’s cup to her, then went to the denim coat hanging on a doorknob and rummaged in the deep pockets. “Here it is.” She held up a rumpled but unopened envelope.
Rachel raised both hands, palms out. “You open it. I’m done. It’s time for me to focus on Evan and our life together.”
Mary Aaron tore open the end and shook out the report. She carried it to the window and carefully read it. “Lemuel Studer, age fourteen, reported finding the body.”
“What did you say?” Rachel looked up.
“I said Lemuel Studer. According to the police report, he’s who discovered Daniel’s body. It’s right here.” Mary Aaron pointed at the paper. “Lemuel.”
Rachel shook her head slowly. “No, Lemuel said he didn’t know who found the body. That first day I talked to him after the funeral.”
Mary Aaron frowned, looking unconvinced. “Well, the police think he was the one.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, but . . .” Rachel exhaled loudly, then drew in a deep breath. She cradled the warm cup in her hands and drank slowly, not bothering to add honey or sugar. She welcomed the rich, strong flavor as she considered what she’d just heard. “Well, obviously someone made a
