I pressed my lips together and willed myself not to blush. I was far too old for blushing. I wasn’t sure what “special friends” meant, but I did not like the sound of it. Special or not, he was my friend, and it worried me Uriah hadn’t shown up for work. It was not like him at all.

  “Where is he renting a room?” I asked, realizing for the first time that I didn’t know where Uriah had been living since he’d returned to Ohio. Had I never asked him?

  “He’s renting from the Stollers. They are a young couple who live on an alpaca farm.”

  “Alpaca?” I asked. “I didn’t know people in our community were farming alpacas.”

  “It became very popular in Ohio while you were away.”

  Ten years after my husband died, I moved to Michigan for a decade to care for my ailing older sister, Harriet. Only after she passed away did I return to Ohio.

  I nodded, feeling a little surprised that Uriah had never mentioned that he lived on an alpaca farm. I would think that would be an interesting bit of information to share.

  “So have you seen Uriah?” Margot started tapping her foot again. Apparently, it was taking me far too long to give her a straight answer.

  “Nee, not for a few days. I expected to find him at the concert tonight.”

  I did not admit to her that I had been looking for him when I first arrived. Usually when Lois and I came to the square for an evening concert, Uriah made a point of stopping by our chairs and saying hello. Months ago, Uriah had asked me to accompany him on a buggy ride. I had been so taken aback by the request that I declined. Somedays, I wished I had the nerve to tell him I had changed my mind.

  Margot tugged on her curls, and like some miracle, every time she let them go, they bounced perfectly back into place. “It was very poor form not to tell me that he wouldn’t be here tonight. I had to scramble and tell everyone where to put the chairs and where the band should set up. In the past, I have always relied on Uriah to do that sort of thing. You don’t think he found himself in some kind of trouble, do you?”

  I folded my hands on my lap and held them tightly. “Trouble? What do you mean when you say trouble?”

  “Could he have gotten lost or hurt? He’s just not the type to blow off work. I expect that sort of behavior from the high schoolers we hire during the summer to help out with the grounds, but not from someone like Uriah.”

  “Nee, it does not sound like him.” My worry grew. “There must be some sort of explanation. Maybe his buggy broke down.”

  “Maybe,” Margot said. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m more concerned than ever now that I know you haven’t heard from him either. I thought if anyone in the village would know of his whereabouts, it would be you. He mentioned that he wanted to move back to Indiana this summer, but I can’t believe he would do so without telling me first.”

  My chest tightened. “I did not know that was his plan. When did he tell you?”

  “A week or two ago,” she said as if the exact date did not matter. “It was always his plan to go back. All his children and grandchildren are there. What would keep him here?”

  “Nothing, I suppose . . .” My voice trailed off.

  “He said he wanted to tell me”—Margot stopped tapping her foot—“so that I had plenty of time to find a replacement caretaker for the village square. That doesn’t sound like someone who would leave without a word.”

  She was right, it didn’t. “Then it can’t be that. He’d tell you he was leaving. I’m sure it’s something else.” I hoped he would have told me too, but I didn’t say that.

  She stood up. “Well, if you hear from him, let me know. And he’d better have a good reason for not being here tonight. I won’t be happy if he doesn’t have a good excuse.”

  I swallowed hard and watched her walk away. At the time, we didn’t know how gut his excuse really was.

  CHAPTER TWO

  My hands were shaking after Margot left. I had a sinking feeling that something bad had happened to Uriah. I told myself I was overreacting. There was no reason to assume the worst. My dark thoughts had to be the result of the recent murder investigations I had been involved in since moving back to Harvest. What kind of Amish woman was I that murder was the first thought to come to my mind when someone was reported missing? And I did not know Uriah was, in fact, missing. He simply had not shown up for work. People did that all the time, but not Uriah Schrock.

  I glanced at the cup of ice in my hand. Between the hot air and my warm hand, most of the ice had melted. I hurried across the green to Lois.

  “You were gone so long, I thought for sure you had flown to the North Pole to harvest the ice.”

  “Margot stopped me. I’m so sorry.” I handed her the cup of ice.

  “It’s no problem. My knee feels all right now that I’ve been off it for a bit.” She peered inside the cup. “Looks more like ice water to me. I’ll drink that. I’m so hot. The concert is finally over, praise be, and we can leave.” She stood and gulped down the water. Wiping at her mouth with the paper towels I had also brought, she said, “Much better. Now, what did Margot want with you?”

  “She asked me about Uriah,” I said and then I went on to tell her what Margot had said about Uriah’s uncharacteristic behavior.

  “You know, I was surprised he didn’t come over and greet us before the concert the way he’s always done. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to upset you. I know Uriah is a touchy subject with you.”

  “Uriah is not a touchy subject.” I let out a breath. “I’m sure there is a simple answer as to why he is not at the concert today. I’m sure we will know it very soon. And I’m ready to go home too.”

  “You can’t head home without me. I need to give you a lift.”

  Then I remembered she was right. My buggy was in the shop for repairs. Lois had picked me up to bring me to the concert.

  “It’s a nice night for a drive with the air conditioner on full blast,” Lois said.

  The student musicians hugged their parents and packed up their instruments. “Let’s just drop off these chairs at the café, and I will take you home. Maybe I can fix the broken one.”

  “Maybe.” I had my doubts but dutifully folded my unbroken chair.

  Lois and I were walking across the grass when a young Amish woman called my name. She hurried toward us. “I thought it was you, Millie,” she said.

  “Marie Beiler? How are you?” I recognized her as a young employee from my niece’s greenhouse.

  “I’m so well!” She beamed from ear to ear. “I just wanted to tell you that Jeremy proposed to me yesterday.”

  I smiled. “And you accepted, I take it.”

  “Of course! I had to tell you because without you, we would never have been matched together since we are from different districts. You really are blessed by Gott to match couples.”

  I set the chair on the sidewalk and leaned it against my leg. “I am very glad to hear it. And is your family happy?”

  She clasped her hands in front of her. “Both families are so very happy.”

  “Gut.”

  She looked over my shoulder. “Oh! There is Jeremy waving at me now. Danki, Millie.” She ran away to the waiting courting buggy.

  “Another satisfied customer,” Lois quipped. “You really should charge for the service you do.”

  “I can’t charge money for my gift from Gott.”

  She eyed me. “But your quilts cost money.”

  I wrinkled my nose because I didn’t have a gut reply to her statement. Even so, it would feel wrong to ask young couples to pay me to find their matches. Love should have no cost.

  In silence we crossed Church Street right in front of the big white church with the purple front door. We were headed to the Sunbeam Café, which was still open because Darcy was trying to take advantage of people who might want a bite to eat after milling around the square following the concert. Hers was the only Englisch business on the square and the only one still open. I supposed that Swissmen Sweets was semi-Englisch, as it was run by Bailey King, an Englischer, and her Amish grossmaami, Clara. The candy shop was on Main Street on the opposite side of the square.

  The café was doing a brisk business, and Lois tucked our lawn chairs just inside the door. “I’ll move them tomorrow, but they will be fine there until Darcy closes up.” She waved at Darcy. “I’m just going to run Millie home, and then I will be back to help you close up for the night.”

  Darcy waved back without a word as she rang people out at the cash register.

  Lois’s sedan was parked in front of the village playground. It was a prime spot, and one that she managed to get almost every day. Children ran around the jungle gym and swing set. Several of them were still wearing concert clothes that were now peppered with dirt and grass stains. I supposed their parents wanted them to run off some steam after sitting through such a long performance.

  Lois and I climbed into her car. Even though it was late, I had some work to do when I got home. I had been working on a quilt for an exacting Englisch customer. Considering how much she was paying me for the custom quilt, I knew that it had to be perfect. One stitch off and she would ask for her money back.

  I sat in the car and let my muscles relax. I’d held myself so still on the lawn chair, thinking it might snap, that it was nice to relax into the car seat. I was also sore from working with my niece at her greenhouse two days a week. Now that it was late summer, the annuals were all but gone and the greenhouse was in the process of preparing for the fall onslaught of orders for mums and pumpkins. Even though my niece would not let me do the heavy lifting, I was sore from reaching above my head over and over again to move and water the greenhouse’s hanging baskets.

  After a bit of quilting, a gut night’s sleep would set me to rights. The next day was Saturday, and Edith said she would only need me in the morning at the greenhouse. She would have extra help from some of the young Amish in the district during the afternoon.

  The sun disappeared behind the horizon as Lois drove out of the center of the village.

  Not far from my little farm, Lois turned onto the county road, which had been under construction all summer. Workers were widening it to accommodate the increased traffic through Holmes County. A flagger stood up ahead of us and held a stop sign high.

  “They are never going to finish this road,” Lois grumbled. “This is so Ohio. There are two seasons: winter and construction.” Just before the flagger, there was a rural, loose gravel crossroad that was more frequented by Amish buggies than cars. “Let’s go this way. I need to get back to the café quick to help Darcy. She’s been overwhelmed lately, and I’m afraid all those hungry concertgoers will make her lose her head.”

  “What’s wrong with Darcy?” I asked.

  She pressed her lips together. “I don’t know exactly. She just keeps crying. At first I thought it was over her last boyfriend, but that’s been done with for almost a year now. There has to be something else going on. She won’t tell me, and I’m trying to be understanding and not press her for information, but it’s hard for me. You know I like to get right down to business.”

  I knew that would be difficult for Lois. She wasn’t the type to just wait until someone told her what was going on. There had been many times in my life when I didn’t want to discuss something that was upsetting me, and she forced it out of me.

  The car kicked up gravel and dirt.

  “They shouldn’t worry about widening that road when there are other roads in the county that aren’t even paved. I wouldn’t dare travel this way if it was rainy out. The threat of becoming stuck is just too great.”

  I chuckled at a memory. “Kip and I got stuck on this road once in a rainstorm. He was fit to be tied that day. By the time he got the buggy wheel unstuck, he was covered from head to toe in mud.” I laughed at the memory of my usually mild-mannered husband kicking the buggy wheel when it wouldn’t turn. When he caught me laughing, he started to laugh too and pulled me out of the buggy and kissed me in the rain. He got mud all over my dress, but I didn’t mind. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. So fleeting and so sweet. We had been young then, just married for a few years. We had no idea what life held for us—that we’d try to have children and fail or that Kip would die when he was still young and strong. I shook the memories from my mind.

  I looked out of the window of the car so that Lois would not see the tears that had suddenly gathered in the corners of my eyes. That was over now, and there was no point in shedding any more tears for time lost. Instead, I needed to take comfort in past joys, not bemoan the void left behind.

  “What on earth is going on up there?” Lois asked.

  Her voice was just the distraction I needed. On the side of the road there were at least four vehicles: two sheriff’s department SUVs, an ambulance, and a construction truck. Behind the Englisch vehicles, a single Amish buggy stood along the side of the road. The horse stamped its hoof on the dry gravel road.

  “Is it some kind of accident?” I asked. “I hope a car did not hit a buggy.” It was a tragedy that happened in Amish communities much more often than we cared to think about.

  The emergency vehicles and buggy were parked just shy of the weathered covered bridge to the right of the gravel-and-dirt road. The bridge was impassable and had been for years. Large logs blocked the bridge entrance, as it had been decided decades ago the structure was no longer sturdy enough to carry a buggy’s weight. Some members of the Amish community claimed it wasn’t even fit to carry a squirrel across its length. With newer roads available, like the one under construction, even the Amish communities saw no reason to fix it.

  Lois slowed her car. A young deputy stood at the edge of the ravine, staring down below. He wasn’t the only one. There were several men and women in uniform peering into the ravine and shining search lights below as they looked. The deputy glanced over at us and paled.

  “Hey, it’s Deputy Little.” Lois pulled the car over to the side of the road and waved at the young officer. “Little! Little, over here! Can’t you hear me?”

  Deputy Little’s shoulders sagged. I guessed he wasn’t as happy to see us as Lois was to see him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Deputy Little was a short man with concerned eyes. He had recently become engaged to Charlotte Weaver, a formerly Amish young woman from the village and the cousin of Bailey King of Swissmen Sweets. Charlotte had recently left the Amish way and was still in the process of adjusting to what it means to be Englisch and what it means to be in love.

  Despite all the changes in her life, I wasn’t surprised by their engagement. The moment I saw how the pair looked at each other, I knew Luke Little and Charlotte Weaver were destined to be together. What I didn’t know was whether their cultural differences would get in the way of their happy ending. First, Charlotte had to decide whether she could leave the Amish. It was my opinion that she hadn’t left the Amish because of Deputy Little. It was a decision she was going to make whether or not she fell in love with an Englischer.

  The young deputy looked around as if to make sure no one was paying him any mind. They weren’t. Everyone seemed focused on what was happening at the bottom of the ravine. He walked over to our car. “Lois, Millie, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”

  Lois wrinkled her nose. “I can be anywhere that I please to be. Last time I checked, this was still a free country, and I, for one, will exercise my rights.”

  The young deputy sighed. “I know you will. But what are you doing out here at night? No one comes down this road anymore,” he said.

  “They do if they want to avoid that mess of construction on the state route. We were headed to Millie’s home, and I decided to take a shortcut rather than wait for them to clear the road,” Lois said.

  He appeared to be unconvinced. “You didn’t come because someone told you to?”

  I leaned across the seat for a better look at the deputy. Holding on to my seat belt so that it wouldn’t cut into the side of my neck, I said, “Lois was just taking me home after the Friday evening concert on the square. Why would anyone tell us to come here?”

  “No reason.” His mouth twitched.

  Lois narrowed her eyes. “Deputy Little, do you know that we are both old enough to be your grandmother? Would you go and lie to your grandmother like that?”

  He flushed.

  “What’s going on here, Deputy Little?” I asked. “Was there an accident? I hope a car didn’t go over the side of the ravine. Was a buggy hit?”

  Deputy Little rocked back on his heels, and his eyes flitted from side to side as if he was in search of escape. I don’t know why he felt trapped. To be honest, if it came down to it, the young, fit police officer would always be able to outrun Lois and me, not that Lois wouldn’t try to throw her giant purse and its questionable contents at him if she was pressed.

  Lois clicked her tongue. “I have been saying for years that they should put a guardrail along this stretch of road, but no one ever listens to me. At night in the rain or anytime in the winter, this can be a dangerous way to come. A nimble cat could slide right off into the ravine.”

  “It hasn’t rained for days,” I said.

  “I’m just making a point,” she said. “They should have done something about this road, and the bridge, for that matter, decades ago. The ravine has inched its way closer to the road as the banks are eroded by rain and harsh weather.”

  He shook his head. “It’s nothing like that. There wasn’t an accident. There isn’t a car or a buggy in the ravine . . .”

  Lois folded her arms. “Then what is it?” She sat back in her seat, making it clear that she had no intention of moving her car until she had a satisfactory answer.

  Deputy Little wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Even after sunset, the humidity was high on this muggy August night. “I can’t talk to you about it right now, if ever. The sheriff is here.”

  “The sheriff!” Lois stuck her head out the window for a better look, forcing Deputy Little to jump back or be hit in the stomach. “Why, he is there! It must be something big for the sheriff to come out on a Friday night, much less show his face so deep into Amish territory.” She ducked her head back inside the car. “Come on—dish, Deputy.”