farmer and Amish, in case you haven’t noticed. I don’t have time to sit around somebody’s living room sipping tea and telling folks how much I miss my wife. Plain folks don’t question the will of God. We go about our business and mourn our loved ones in private. You Englischers love to chaw everything to death. And you probably don’t feel much better once you’re done pouring your guts out to each other.”
If she had been shocked by his outburst, she hid it well. “Coffee,” she said.
He glanced back at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“We usually drink coffee sitting around my living room, not tea. And you’re right—sometimes we don’t feel any better after sharing our grief.” She waited until he met her gaze. “But every now and then we do.” She put the card on the plastic table. “Tuck this into a kitchen drawer for now, just in case you change your mind.” She started down the steps toward the driveway. “Oh, I almost forgot. Abraham looks healthy and robust, and the home you and your aunt have provided is more than adequate. That’s what I intend to say in my report. I commend your care and diligence.” She nodded, strode to her car, and drove away with barely a stirring of driveway dust.
Nathan sat on the porch glider and began to rock. He stared down at floorboards in dire need of paint, not feeling the least bit caring or diligent.
Daniel Graber spent the night in his buggy, parked behind the Wayne County jail. He didn’t want to miss visiting hours for those awaiting trial. With Catherine home watching the kinner and Isaiah to tend to his chores, he was able to see Abigail. Never had he missed his wife as much as during the previous week. He didn’t think it possible to miss a person so much. He’d come to Wooster yesterday, tied up in the back parking lot, fed his horse hay and a bucket of oats he’d brought from home, and filled another bucket with water from plastic jugs. Arrangements for him weren’t quite so luxurious. He ate his meal cold from a small cooler and slept curled up under a blanket behind the seat. Today his back rebelled with painful spasms from his cramped sleeping position.
Daniel washed his hands and face in the public washroom and then found a vending machine to buy coffee. After inserting a dollar, he pushed the button and waited. When the cup fell crookedly, the stream of hot liquid missed by a quarter inch. He tried again with a second bill and burned his fingers correcting the cup’s position.
The morning was not off to an auspicious start. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he hadn’t begun with prayers of thanksgiving or pleas for guidance. With hat in hand, Daniel waited in line for the appointed hour. When the door opened at the appointed time, a guard with a clipboard asked his name and then pointed across the room. Midway down a table sat Abby, so still that pigeons might have mistaken her for a statue if this had been a park.
Daniel saw something that turned his blood cold—they hadn’t allowed his wife to keep her traditional Amish outfit of a navy blue dress with white apron and kapp. To be seen in public in the atrocious green, mannish clothes must cause her unbearable discomfort and shame. As he approached, she glanced up with an expression of both joy and sorrow. Dark hollows lay beneath her eyes, and she appeared at least five pounds thinner.
“Guder mariye, ehemann. You look like you slept in your clothes.” The corner of her mouth turned up in a familiar and heartening smile.
“Good morning to you, fraa. That’s because I did. I drove here yesterday so I wouldn’t miss visiting hours.”
“You came by horse and buggy?” She lifted an eyebrow. “You should have called the hired van. There’s extra money in the coffee can in the cupboard for occasions like this.”
For occasions like this? “I doubt you had planned to use your egg money for visiting day at the county jail.” He glanced nervously around the room at the odd assortment of humanity.
“No one plans for emergencies, no matter what their nature.”
“True enough, but let’s not quibble about nonsense on our first meeting.” He reached for her hand. “How are you faring, Abby? Are they treating you well?”
She allowed her hand to be enfolded with little response. “Jah, I’m fine. The