Seeds of Deception, Page 3

  A quiver of fear moved through Katie, but she didn’t let it show. “I’m not worried,” she said. “All we have to do is tell the truth.”

  “Hopefully, you will.”

  “I have to go.” When she turned and walked away, her legs were shaking.

  * * *

  The day of worship is an important one for the Amish. It’s a time of reflection and anticipation, but it’s also a day reserved for rest and for socializing with friends, family, and neighbors. With the exception of caring for the farm animals, chores are set aside. The preaching service is held every other Sunday, not in a church, but in an Amish home or barn. Benches and chairs are brought in. Most of the women bring food. The service often lasts three hours or longer.

  This week, worship was at the Stutz farm, and Katie couldn’t wait to see Mattie. She’d been on pins and needles since talking to her brother. She couldn’t get his words out of her head. Billie says Mattie started the fire.

  Of course Billy Marquart was lying. That’s what people like him did when they got caught doing something they shouldn’t. They lied or blamed someone else. Not this time, Katie thought. She wouldn’t allow it. If only she could silence the other, more disturbing voice whispering inside her head. That was the one that had her stomach in knots. The one that reminded her Billy Marquart wasn’t the only one with a reputation. His was earned. Was Mattie’s?

  Katie knew better than anyone that her friend wasn’t perfect. No one was. Yes, it was true that Mattie broke the rules and pushed boundaries—lots of people did, even among the Amish. It was one of the things Katie loved about Mattie. Her sharp mouth. Her quick laugh. Her devil-may-care attitude when it came to all those Amish rules. As far as Katie was concerned, most of those rules were too strict, anyway.

  She’d never told a soul, but there were times when she entertained fantasies of leaving it all behind. Times when she knew in her heart that a life without books and music couldn’t possibly be fulfilling. And what about college? What was so terrible about an education? How could those things keep you from getting into heaven?

  Some days she was so filled with discontent that she dreamed about running away and never coming back. They were her private thoughts, thoughts she’d never shared with anyone.

  Except Mattie.

  One night last summer, Mattie had slept over with Katie. There was a new foal on the way and Mamm had allowed them to take their sleeping bags to the barn for the night. They hadn’t slept a wink, instead staying up talking far into the night as they watched the mare and waited for the foal to come. They had shared their most personal hopes and secret dreams for the future. Not all those dreams included baptism, marriage, and children.

  Mattie was the only one who understood. The only person brave enough to speak of such forbidden topics aloud and in the presence of another person. That was one of the reasons, Katie supposed, that not everyone liked Mattie.

  She’d heard all the mean-spirited barbs. The Erb girl is a boy magnet. That Erb girl will smile at a boy whether he’s Amish or English. Her parents had better look out come her time for Rumspringa!

  Katie wanted to believe it was just idle gossip, a favorite Amish pastime. But as she’d entered her teens, she’d realized that harmless gossip was rarely harmless. The Amish may be pious, but they excelled at throwing the occasional petty jab, especially at their own.

  Katie refused to give the cruel comments weight. She wouldn’t listen and she wouldn’t judge her friend. She loved Mattie and the loyalty she felt toward her was abiding and deep.

  The preaching service seemed to go on forever. In the course of Es schwere Deel, or the main sermon, Katie had looked around and spotted Mattie on a bench three rows back. They made eye contact and a silent communication had passed between them. Meet me at the swing behind the barn when this is over! It was their usual rendezvous point, and Katie could barely wait.

  It was noon by the time the closing hymn was sung and everyone was dismissed. Dodging the usual small talk, Katie snagged a plastic cup full of date pudding from the room where the food had been set up and made a beeline for the door. She marveled at the beautiful but crisp day as she made her way to the rear of the barn. At the base of a small hill, a stream trickled prettily. Next to it stood a towering cottonwood tree; someone had tied a swing to its lowest branch.

  Mattie sat on the swing, swaying lazily and concentrating on her date pudding as Katie approached.

  “Katie!” Mattie held up her pudding, motioning to the matching cup in Kate’s hand.

  Katie laughed despite herself. Raising her cup, she proclaimed, “Great minds!”

  “I was beginning to wonder if Bishop Troyer would ever run out of breath,” Mattie said between mouthfuls.

  “The Gottes-deensht gets longer every time,” Katie said, referring to the worship service. She set her empty cup on the ground. “Have the police or fire marshal people been to see you?”

  “What?” Mattie stopped chewing. “The police? Fire marshal?”

  Katie recapped the conversation she’d had with Jacob earlier. “Billy Marquart is trying to blame the fire on you. Jacob told me the police or fire marshal people are going to talk to you next.”

  Mattie tossed the rest of her pudding into the bushes. “What else did Billy say?”

  “He told the police you’re trying to get back at him for getting you fired from your job.”

  “Stupid liar.” Looking worried, Mattie bit at a thumbnail. “This is all my fault. I should have known better than to go in the barn with him.”

  Katie shrugged. “You never know what some people are going to do.”

  “Especially people like Billy.” Mattie sighed. “All this over an old barn no one cares about.” She tried to slip into her usual cavalier persona, but Katie could tell she was concerned about this new bit of information.

  Katie offered a kind smile. “Like my mamm always says: The truth will prevail. All you have to do is tell the truth, and you have nothing to worry about.”

  “What if the police believe Billy over me?”

  “They won’t. Come on. You’re Amisch. They’ll know you don’t lie.”

  Mattie didn’t look convinced. “I’ll get into trouble for going into the barn.”

  “Which is a harmless thing.” Katie paused. “Billy turned it into something dangerous and destroyed all that hay and equipment. Not you.”

  Tears shimmered in Mattie’s eyes. “Thank you for believing in me. Not everyone does.”

  “That’s because they don’t know you the way I do.” Reaching out, Katie laid her hand over Mattie’s. “I have your back. Okay?”

  A gust of wind rustled the branches of the cottonwood and Katie shivered. “I’m so going to miss summer.”

  “No more swimming.”

  “No more sunshine.”

  “Datt says we’re going to have an early fall this year.” Mattie removed her sweater and handed it to Katie. “Here. It’ll keep you warm.”

  “I’m okay—”

  But Mattie insisted. “You can give it back to me later.”

  Katie slipped the sweater on, smiling when she realized it smelled like Mattie, a mix of strawberry shampoo and her mamm’s hand lotion. “Hard to believe we won’t be going back to school this year,” Katie said.

  “I’m not going to miss it.”

  The girls fell silent, thoughtful, listening to the metallic chirp of a nearby cardinal.

  After a moment, Mattie rose from the swing. “Let’s go get more date pudding.”

  Katie scooped her empty cup off the ground. “You talked me into it,” she said and they started for the barn.

  * * *

  It was dark by the time Katie finished her chores and went to the bedroom she shared with her sister, Sarah, to get ready for bed. By the light of a single lantern on the night table, she unlaced her sneakers and was in the process of taking off Mattie’s sweater when something clattered to the floor. Puzzled, she picked it up and held it to the dim light o
f the lantern. A chill scraped up her spine when she realized it was a lighter. Not just any lighter, but a pink one.

  She stared at it, her thoughts scattering.

  All the while Jacob’s words about Billy Marquart rang hard in her ears. He told the police she had a lighter. A pink one.

  Her brain refused to acknowledge the thoughts prying into it. The lighter didn’t mean anything, she assured herself. Lots of people carried lighters. When you were Amish, there were always lanterns or candles or stoves to light.

  Katie held up the sweater for a closer look. It was the same sweater Mattie had been wearing the day of the fire. She remembered because before the boys came along Mattie had gotten too warm and hung it on a branch and they’d laughed because it looked so silly, like a headless scarecrow.

  Was the lighter Mattie’s? Was it significant? Did Billy drop it into her pocket so he could blame her for setting the fire? Even as the questions formed, a new and uncomfortable doubt reared its head. Katie loved Mattie; she didn’t want to believe the worst about her. But she knew in her heart that sometimes her friend bent the truth to suit her own needs. And for the first time, Katie considered the possibility that Mattie had lied to her. Is it possible Mattie is, indeed, guilty of setting the fire? Was she trying to get back at Billy for getting her fired? Katie didn’t like the answers coming back at her.

  Katie slept little that night. By the time Mamm peeked into her room at 5:30 A.M. to rouse her for chores, Katie was already dressed. Mamm looked at her a little oddly, going so far as to press her wrist against Katie’s forehead to check for a fever. “You look peaked,” she said.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” Katie muttered.

  “I hope you’re not coming down with something.”

  Just a bad case of worry, Katie thought.

  She rushed through morning chores, feeding and watering the old draft horse. She tossed cracked corn to the chickens, dodging the rooster and stealing fourteen eggs while the hens were busy pecking at the ground. Mamm would be happy about the eggs. She saw Jacob mucking the buggy horse’s stall, but she didn’t pause to speak with him. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Mattie, especially after finding the lighter. Her brother knew her too well. One look at her, and he would know something was wrong.

  She spent most of the day in the kitchen with Mamm, helping her can the last of the season’s tomatoes and green beans. All the while, Katie agonized over how to handle her doubts about Mattie.

  Finally, at three o’clock, Mamm asked Katie if she wanted to ride with her to pick up Sarah, who’d taken on a part-time job at one of the tourist shops in town. Usually Katie was anxious to get out; anything to break up the incessant work and monotony of the farm. This afternoon, though, she had other plans. While Jacob harnessed the horse and pulled the buggy around for Mamm, Katie waited. Once the buggy had disappeared down the lane, she sprang into action.

  Keeping an eye on the barn where Jacob was repairing a hayrack in one of the stalls, Katie went to the shed and pushed Jacob’s bicycle to the gravel area. Mamm would be gone at least an hour. Datt wasn’t due back from the auction in Millersburg until later. She should be able to make the trip to Mattie’s house and get back before anyone noticed she was gone. A final glance over her shoulder at the barn, and she was off and pedaling hard down the lane.

  It took her ten minutes to reach the Erb farm. Katie barely slowed the bike to make the turn into the long gravel lane. She passed by the old milk barn in need of paint, and then the lane curled right, taking her toward the house on the hill. She stopped just off the gravel and set the bike on its side beneath the shade of the maple tree outside the front window. Mr. Erb stood in the doorway of the barn and waved when he saw her. Katie waved back, but she didn’t stop to chat.

  The kitchen window was open, the blue curtains billowing out. Katie saw Mattie standing at the sink, washing dishes. When she spotted Katie, she stuck out her tongue and then disappeared inside. Katie ran past the clothesline, around the front of the house and vaulted the stairs to the porch. The two girls were moving so fast they nearly collided.

  “Katie!”

  “Hey,” Katie said, realizing for the first time how out of breath she was from the physical exertion of the bike ride.

  “What are you doing here?” Mattie stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “My goodness, you’re all sweaty and breathless. Do you want something to drink? Mamm made iced tea.”

  Anxious to talk, Katie shook her head. “I have to talk to you.”

  “Let’s sit down at least.” Mattie motioned toward the steps and the two girls sat side by side. “Is everything okay?”

  “I don’t know.” Katie took off the sweater and handed it to her friend. “You tell me.”

  “You rode your brother’s bike all the way over here at the speed of light to return this old sweater?” Mattie gave an incredulous laugh. “What a good friend you are!”

  “You left something in the pocket,” Katie told her.

  Looking puzzled, Mattie checked the pockets and pulled out the lighter. “This must be Billy Marquart’s,” she said, her brows knitting as she turned it over in her hands. “I wonder how it got there.”

  Katie watched her carefully, feeling guilty, because for the first time since she’d known Mattie, she was looking for a lie. “Billy doesn’t seem like the type of guy to carry around a pink lighter.”

  Mattie’s gaze snapped to hers, her eyes widening. “You don’t believe me? You think it’s mine?”

  “I don’t think anything.” Katie’s voice was strong, belying the nerves snapping beneath her skin, but her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

  “It’s not mine,” Mattie said. “I had no idea it was there. The only explanation I can think of is that Billy put it there after he set the fire so he could blame it on me.”

  “Have the police or fire marshal people talked to you yet?”

  “No.”

  “You have to tell them about the lighter,” Katie said.

  “The police already know Billy did it,” Mattie said petulantly. “They probably don’t even want to talk to me.”

  “Jacob told me they did.” Katie sent a pointed look at the lighter. “You need to tell them about the lighter.”

  “If I do, they’ll think I did it.”

  “The police aren’t stupid,” Katie told her. “You have nothing to fear from them.”

  Mattie looked away. “It’s not the police I’m worried about.”

  The girls went silent and for the first time, Katie thought she understood. Still, she asked, “Did something else happen in the barn?”

  Mattie was silent so long that Katie didn’t think she was going to answer. Finally, she looked down at the ground and whispered, “I let him kiss me. I just … wanted to know what it was like, and he got all pushy and stuck his tongue in my mouth and…” She paused, out of breath and her face screwed up. “I don’t want anyone to know!”

  “Oh, Mattie.”

  “Katie, it’s not the police I’m afraid of, it’s … everything else. You know how the Amish are. You know they’ll blame me.”

  Katie wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come, because in some small corner of her mind she acknowledged that her friend was right. Some of the Amish would blame Mattie. For being in a place she shouldn’t have been. For talking to someone she shouldn’t have been talking to. For letting an older Englischer boy kiss her. Some of the Amish would gossip about her and whisper behind her back. But Katie also knew that those same Amish would be the first to forgive her.

  As if reading her thoughts, Mattie said, “Billy set that fire, not me. But I’ll be the one everyone will blame. I’ll be the one everyone will condemn. I’ll be the one they talk about because they have nothing else to say. I can hear their smug whispers already. Did you hear what that wild Erb girl did with that Englischer boy?”

  It wasn’t easy to admit, but Katie knew she was right. Oftentimes the truth was a far cry from fair. The Ami
sh shared the same human flaws as their English counterparts. They made the same mistakes. But the Amish, it seemed, were invariably held to a higher standard.

  Mattie got to her feet. “I don’t want anyone to know I was in that barn with Billy. If they find out I let him kiss me … I’ll never hear the end of it. My parents will know. The bishop.” Her eyes filled with tears. “If you’re any kind of friend, Katie Burkholder, you’ll let sleeping dogs lie.”

  * * *

  It was the first real argument Katie had had with her best friend, and it hurt a lot more than she thought it would. As she pedaled the bike down the gravel lane, Mattie’s words echoed in her head.

  If you’re any kind of friend, Katie Burkholder, you’ll let sleeping dogs lie.

  Those were the words that hurt the most. The ones that had sunk into her heart like a knife.

  Katie understood Mattie’s reasons for not wanting anyone to know she’d been in the barn with Billy Marquart. But wouldn’t it be worse for her to be accused of setting the fire? Katie didn’t know what to do. She had no idea how to fix things between them. The only things she knew for certain was that she wouldn’t let her friend be blamed for something she hadn’t done and she had to make things right between them.

  Katie was so embroiled in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the ATV parked on the pullover outside the mouth of the covered bridge until she was already inside the structure. In the back of her mind she figured someone was down at the creek fishing or picking blackberries. The bicycle tires hummed over the wood surface as she flew through the bridge.

  She’d just emerged on the other side when the figure came out of nowhere. One instant Katie was pedaling as fast as she could, determined to make it home before she was missed. The next she was being shoved violently sideways. The bicycle twisted beneath her, the front wheel jackknifing. Her body kept going. Vaguely, she was aware that someone had pushed her. That the impending landing was going to hurt.

  She hit the asphalt hard on her hands and knees, scraping both palms, both knees, and then rolling, striking her right shoulder. Then everything went still. She was lying in the middle of the road, just a few feet from the mouth of the covered bridge. Her dress had ridden up to mid-thigh. The fabric was torn where her knees had ground into the asphalt. Already she could feel the burn of the abrasions, the ache of the bruises that would bloom later.