“I wasn’t paying much attention, only listening to the radio. I heard a truck honk, and then I saw the buggy swerving off the side of the road.”
“Is that Stephen Troyer from Yoder’s Nursery down there?”
“Yes.”
“I know him well.” He peered into my face. “Had he been drinking?”
“No. We’ve both been at work all day and then shopping.”
“You work at the nursery too?”
“Yes. Just started today.”
The officer picked his way down the hill and spoke to Stephen, the buggy’s owner, and his wife. The couple seemed unscathed. I was aching to go down to help, but I worried I’d further complicate the situation.
The second officer followed him down the ravine, and then Wayne returned. “Looks like I’m giving you a ride home, miss. Stephen asked me to since he’ll be here for a while.” He must have noticed my jaw drop because he added, “I’m Officer Wayne Grady. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you, and I know where the nursery is. Stephen said you live in the small cabin on the property.”
“Yes, I do, but I don’t want to trouble you.” I scanned the buggies and saw women and children climbing in as the downpour increased. No one I recognized.
“I’m headed that way anyway, miss.”
“Okay, thanks.” I waved at Stephen, but he was busy helping the Amish driver remove the buggy’s wheel, I assumed to take it to be repaired. Stephen would need his pickup for that job and his passenger seat for the Amish couple. I’d be nothing but in the way. I reached into his pickup and grabbed my purse and my bag from the outlet mall.
Wayne opened the squad car’s passenger door. “You’ll be safe with me. I promised Stephen to take extra good care of you.”
“Maybe I should sit in the backseat.”
“No, the seat’s covered with hard plastic and not clean enough.”
Again, I searched the sea of faces for someone I knew, but I found no one. And a buggy ride all the way to the nursery would be a great inconvenience. As I slid into the seat, heads turned. Apparently, I still cared too much what others thought of me. I tried to appear dignified, but the moment I sat in the squad car’s seat, I slid down, hoping to be out of sight.
“Stephen said your name is Eva Lapp.”
“Yes.” My tongue seemed to be a limp appendage. “Thank you for the ride.”
“Like I said, not a problem. I know where the nursery is. I’ve taken my wife there plenty of times. She loves gardening.”
A buggy passed us heading the other direction. I recognized the deacon from my parents’ district. No doubt about it, he stared right at me. I hoped he only caught a glimpse of my kapp, which must be flattened by the rain.
Ten minutes later, Wayne and I rolled onto the nursery’s gravel parking lot. The electricity was on, and lights illuminated the greenhouses. The shop seemed to be closed for the night, but I assumed anyone in the area could make out the squad car easily with the rain reflecting off its surface.
“Thank you, Officer. You can let me out here.” I reached for the door handle.
“Hold on. I promised Stephen to take you to your doorstep. And call me Wayne.” He continued driving around the side of the big house. I figured Beatrice had heard the car and was ogling at us out a window. Yes, as I exited the squad car, she opened the back door and stepped out onto the covered porch. She must have been worried about Stephen, I told myself. But I couldn’t face her right now, not clutching the bag containing my new, worldly shoes.
“Thanks for the ride, Wayne.” I jumped out and shut the car’s door behind me. Minnie barked and scrambled to greet me. The two Labs followed. One let out a woof. The last thing I wanted was to have more attention drawn to me, but there was no getting around it. I had arrived in a police car. And I’d been alone with Stephen.
I hurried into my cabin and closed the door before the dogs could follow me inside. A minute later, knuckles rapped on my door. I opened it to find Beatrice carrying a black umbrella.
“Where’s Stephen?” Her eyes surveyed my wet clothes and kapp. “I saw you two leaving together hours ago.”
“He’s helping an Amish man with his buggy wheel.”
Her gazed moved to my Nike bag. “You two went shopping at the mall?”
“He needed something from the hardware store and offered to take me. I told him my feet hurt so much…”
Her white lips pressed together. “Dry off, for goodness’ sake, before you get pneumonia.”
I stepped out of my soggy shoes and hung my dripping jacket on a peg. I must have looked an unruly sight with the hem of my dress wet and mud-spattered. I’d wait until she left to remove my kapp and check my disheveled hair in the mirror.
As if anchored to the floor, she folded her arms across her matronly bulk. “I suppose you’ll be needing my help with the soup again tomorrow.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I have it all planned, and we have the ingredients already. Beef barley.”
She lifted her pointy jaw. “Including beef stock?”
“Uh…” I reached for my copy of Family Life, the one periodical I’d brought from home. “I saw the recipe in a magazine recently. A reader from around here sent it in.” I opened the black-and-white monthly magazine and located the recipe.
Beatrice snatched the publication out of my hand. “Are you blind? Right at the top of the list of ingredients is beef stock. Got some in the café’s kitchen?”
“I don’t recall seeing any, now that you mention it.” I felt the way I had in second grade after I’d flubbed a spelling test because I hadn’t studied. “Maybe chicken stock will do.”
“Not if you want your soup to taste its best.”
I let out a lengthy sigh.
“No
