Stephen lifted a hand and waved at Bishop Harvey. “Good, Harvey’s here. He has a wealth of knowledge about building barns stored in his head. Several of the older Amish men will also be invaluable. I bet they’ve already calculated an order for the lumberyard.”
“I wish I could stay and help,” I said, lagging.
“You’ll be busy feeding our customers today, Evie. Come back later. These men will be here all day, if not into the night, unless they need to go home to milk. I’d be surprised if the new barn got started before a couple of days goes by, especially if the arson inspector takes much longer. It’s just now getting light. Anyway, a solid foundation is essential to everything in life, don’t you think?”
His question spiked into me. I speculated if he were hinting at Jake and me as a couple.
As the sky brightened, a line of both Amish men in broadcloth trousers and Englisch men wearing jeans formed in front of the tables. Men sipped coffee, gobbled up the donuts, and chatted about the forthcoming barn building.
I wondered if Jake would get coffee, but he continued to stare at the barn.
“Eva.” I recognized my father’s voice.
I twirled around. “Dat! You came all this way?”
“Yah, we wouldn’t miss it. Just left one of your mamm’s breakfast casseroles on a table by the house.” He wore his straw hat and a black work jacket.
“But how did you know?”
“We could see the orange sky and heard the sirens all the way from our house.” He waved at several bearded friends. “Nothing like a barn fire to bring the community together.”
I noticed Amish women greeting Mamm, who deposited plastic containers on a table amid a growing accumulation of food and then trudged our way.
“How did you get here so early?” I asked her.
“I rose at three thirty to cook breakfast for the workers. Fortunately, we had plenty of eggs on hand. Several neighbors hired a van, and we all chipped in.” She gave me a hug. “When we heard you were in the barn at the time, we were beyond thrilled to find you were all right.” She gave me another hug. “Praise Gott.”
Bishop Harvey ambled over to us. “ ’Tis a shame tragedy is a catalyst that encourages unity. But ‘all things work together for good to them that love God,’ yah?”
I recognized Mamm’s favorite verse from the Bible, Romans 8:28. She’d certainly recited it enough times, even when I saw nothing good in a situation.
“But a man may have died in the fire, and this couple lost their barn,” I told him.
The bishop spoke without hesitation. “Then it was Gott’s will.” I’d heard that explanation for death and tragedy my whole life, but I still didn’t understand or quite believe it. How could the fire and Ralph’s demise possibly be God’s will? How could my living as a spinster be God’s will?
Dat sounded upbeat. “I already heard neighbors corralled the horses and the cow and are putting them up in their barns.”
“Well, I’ll be.” Stephen watched Ralph’s brother, Bill, zoom up in his pickup.
“Now what?” I said. “Do you think he’s heard about Ralph?”
“No doubt,” Stephen said. “He could probably smell the smoke from his home, and surely he heard the sirens last night.”
My parents went back to the Schmuckers’ house as Bill vaulted out of his vehicle and tromped over to a police officer. Bill’s arms moved erratically, his gestures jerky. The officer seemed to be trying to calm him down, but to no avail. Bill spotted Stephen and pointed at him.
“Look out, Evie,” Stephen said. “Here comes trouble.”
Heath’s hackles raised as Bill plodded over to us and jabbed Stephen in the chest with his index finger. “That dog killed another one of my sheep last night.”
“That’s impossible.” I wedged myself between the two men. “Heath was with me or in the main house all night. I don’t know what’s killing your sheep, but it’s not our dog. He was in this barn when it caught fire and kept the farmer’s stallion from trampling my friend.”
The police officer strode over. “Hey, Bill. What’s going on?”
“You know about my sheep? I lost another one last night.”
“Sorry to hear that, but can’t you see we have our hands full here?” The officer’s face grew solemn, the corners of his mouth angling down. “Bill, we tried to find you last night, but you weren’t home. Do you know where Ralph is?”
“Me and the wife were out well past midnight. My brother’s probably in my basement sleeping off a hangover. Why?”
“We have witnesses who claim Ralph was here last night. His cigarette may have started this fire.”
Bill seemed to shrink in stature. “If he did, maybe this will knock some sense into him. Nothing I’ve said or done has made a whit of difference.”
“No one’s seen him since the hayloft went up in flames. I hate to be the one to tell you, but your brother may have died last night in the fire.”
“I don’t believe you.” Bill closed his eyes. “No way is my brother dead.”
The officer persisted. “Would you please call home and ask your wife to check on him? Unless you want to drive home and do it yourself.”
“Listen, buddy, I don’t have to do what you say.” Bill’s face was ghostly pale.
“If you’d rather I sent a couple of my officers over there, I will. This is official police business.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t get all bent out of shape.” Bill opened his cell phone, did whatever was necessary to place the call, and said, “Hey, sugar. Would you do me a big favor?” He turned his back for a few minutes, and then he rotated to face the police officer. “My wife checked. Ralph ain’t there, but that’s nothing new. He don’t show up sometimes, even for days at a time.” Bill winced as he surveyed the trucks filled with charred wreckage. A veil of sadness seemed to cover his ornery features. “Are you trying to tell me
