life. A man of staunch beliefs and resolute faith. A leader admired not only by me, but by the entire Amish community. But he’s tough, too. When I was a troubled teen and didn’t follow the rules set forth by the Ordnung, my parents put me before him. It was an experience I never forgot. It didn’t keep me from breaking the rules, but I made certain neither my parents nor the bishop found out about it. Tonight, I can’t help but wonder: How is it that a man who had judged me so harshly once upon a time could commit his own sin with absolute impunity?
“Why did they bring the baby to you, Miriam?”
“I don’t know. You have to understand, Chief Burkholder, it was the kind of thing that wasn’t to be discussed or questioned.”
“What can you tell me about the midwife?”
“All I know is she wasn’t from around here. She was older. I didn’t recognize her. I assumed the bishop brought her along to care for the baby.”
“I need more.”
The Amish woman shakes her head.
“Surely they told you something.”
“They said nothing to me, but I listened. From what I gathered, the baby’s mamm was … troubled. I think there was something wrong with her. Something not right in her life. So much that she couldn’t care for her own baby.”
“Do you mean health problems? Mental problems? Was she dying and didn’t have family? What?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Was there any paperwork? Or documents?”
“Not that I saw.”
I stare at her, trying to come to terms with what was done. The ramifications. What comes next. “Why did you agree to take the baby?” I ask. “Didn’t you wonder where she came from? Why she was being given to you? Did you think about the parents? That it might cause problems down the road?”
She raises her gaze to mine. “We did it because the bishop asked us to. Adopt her, I mean. Children are a gift from God, you know, and I knew that little girl was in trouble. She’s one of the special ones, you know, with the problems and all. She needed us. I figured her mamm might have some problem, too. I thought we were probably helping her, as well.” She shrugs. “If she was sick or dying. If she didn’t have a husband or family.”
“Does Ivan know all of this?”
“Yes.”
“Was your mother involved?” I ask.
“I think she knew about it. I don’t know how much. I asked later, but she wouldn’t speak of it.”
“Did Elsie’s biological parents agree to relinquish her? Or was Elsie … taken? Removed from the home?”
“No one said.”
We fall silent, the only sound coming from the tap of rain against the window. The hum of the propane refrigerator. The white noise of our thoughts.
“Miriam, do Elsie’s biological parents know where she was sent?” I ask.
Her eyes widen. A wild and primal fear tears across her face. “You think they did this?”
Sie is meiner. She’s mine.
“I think it’s a possibility we have to consider.”
Leaning forward, she puts her face in her hands and begins to sob. “Oh dear Lord, how could this happen? And why now?”
I don’t know what to say. What to think. Staring at her as she sobs, I don’t even know what to feel. “Is there anything you can tell me that might help me figure this out?”
She straightens, raises her gaze to mine. “The notes.” She whispers the words as if she’s frightened someone might hear her. “I didn’t tell you … Ivan thought it best if we didn’t say anything.”
“What notes?” But I’m thinking about the note found on Mary Yoder’s body. A detail that was not made public.
Rising, Miriam goes to the kitchen drawer, pulls out a small devotional book, opens it and pulls out some papers. “Three of them now. The latest this morning. In the mailbox.” She unfolds three sheets of lined notebook paper and slides them across the table to me. They look as if they’ve been folded and unfolded a dozen times. The same type of paper as the note found on Mary Yoder.
Ill-gotten treasures have no lasting value, but righteousness delivers from death.
As I read, I’m thinking about evidence. Fingerprints. The possibility of DNA. Matching the paper to a specific notebook or manufacturer. A retailer. The prospect of CCTV or even a check or credit card.
I go to the second note.
The Lord is a God who avenges. O God who avenges, shine forth. Rise up, Judge of the earth; pay back to the proud