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  There were also things about Bess that Lainey picked up without being told. Earlier in the week, Bess was in the middle of mixing cookie dough when she froze, eyes wide, as she stared out the window. Eventually, she turned back to the cookie dough, but sadness covered her like a blanket. Carefully, Lainey craned her neck to see what had caught Bess’s eye out the window. It was that young fellow who worked for Bertha, Billy Lapp, carrying packages for a very attractive Amish girl.

  “You’re every bit as pretty as she is, Bess,” Lainey said. She wasn’t just saying that. Bess was going to be a beauty. She was unusual looking, with lovely cheekbones and skin like peaches and cream. And those eyes! They were extraordinary. When she wore a dress of a particular shade of blue, those eyes looked like the waters of a tropical island.

  “No. I’m not,” Bess said, sounding miserable. “It’s hard on an ordinary moth when a beautiful butterfly comes around.”

  Lainey couldn’t help but laugh. “Give yourself a little time. You just turned fifteen!”

  Sadly, Bess said, “I don’t have time. The summer is flying by.”

  Lainey’s stomach gripped tight. She didn’t want to think about that.

  Bess looked up at her, a question on her face. “How did you know how old I am?”

  And Lainey had no answer for her.

  Over two weeks had passed since the Understanding, as Jonah came to think of it, had been formalized with Sallie. By Sallie. He still felt a little stunned, yet the idea of marrying again wasn’t altogether unpleasant. It was starting to grow on him, the way Sallie sort of grew on a fellow. She was cheerful, that Sallie. And her boys certainly did need a father’s influence. Sallie thought their antics were adorable, but most people ran the other way when they caught sight of those twins. Just the other day, they stripped Jonah’s tree of apples and tossed them at passing cars. Mose caught them in the act and quietly took them home to Sallie. If Jonah had caught them, he would have wanted to tan their hides. Yes, those boys needed a father. And living alone this summer gave him a pretty good idea of what the future would hold for him once Bess was grown and gone. He hated it.

  Over a month had passed since Lainey had arrived in Stoney Ridge. This July afternoon Bess came into The Sweet Tooth looking pale and worried, with arms crossed tightly in front of her as if she were shivering despite summer’s muggy warmth. Lainey tried to teach her how to roll a pie crust, but she could see Bess couldn’t concentrate. Bess kept rolling and rolling until the crust was so thin, it was nearly see-through.

  Lainey quickly rolled it into a ball and put it in the refrigerator to chill. “You can’t let pastry get warm. The shortening needs to be in layers when it bakes, not mixed in.”

  Bess looked as if the thought of ruining the pastry made her want to cry.

  “Is something troubling you, Bess?” At first, Lainey was sure it had something to do with Billy Lapp. But then she had a horrible premonition that maybe Bertha had finally told her the truth.

  “No. Yes.” Bess’s eyes met Lainey’s, wide and sea blue. “I’m dying.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m bleeding to death.”

  Lainey looked her up and down. She didn’t see any signs of hemorrhaging. “Where?”

  Bess pointed to her stomach. “Here.”

  “Your stomach?”

  Bess shook her head. She pointed lower.

  “Oh,” Lainey said. Then her eyes went wide as it dawned on her. “Oh!” She put her hands on Bess’s shoulders. “Oh Bess, you’re not dying. Hasn’t anyone ever told you about getting the monthly visit from Flo?”

  Bess looked at her, confused. “From who?”

  Of course she hadn’t been told! She had no mother. Her father certainly wouldn’t discuss such a personal thing. Lainey went to the door and locked it, turning the closed sign over. She sat down and patted the chair next to her. “Let’s have a talk.”

  Later that afternoon, as soon as Bess returned to Rose Hill Farm, Mammi showed her a black bonnet she had made for her.

  “It’s bigger than a coal scuttle!” Bess said miserably. “Mammi, are you trying to turn me into Lancaster Amish?” Her Ohio bonnet was much smaller.

  “Nothing of the sort,” Mammi said, tying the ribbons under Bess’s chin.

  Bess could hardly see from side to side. “I feel like a horse wearing blinders.”

  Mammi didn’t pay any attention. “We got us another errand in town.”

  “Oh Mammi,” Bess said, too worried to stir. She didn’t think this day could get any worse, but it just had.

  Sure enough, Mammi was on a mission to search out that poor sheriff’s car. Mammi spotted the empty car out in front of the five-and-dime store and pulled the buggy over.

  “Why? Why are you doing this?” Bess asked.

  “I got my reasons.”

  “Then why don’t you do the driving?”

  “Can’t,” Mammi said. “I’d be put under the ban.” She gave a sideways glance to Bess. “You’re safe.”

  Bess sighed and got into the driver’s side. Refusing Mammi anything never worked. She started up the car and drove down the road, a little faster this time—after all, she might as well enjoy this—until Mammi pointed to an empty parking spot and Bess pulled over.

  Just like last time, the sheriff came running up the street, huffing and puffing. “Dadblast it, Miz Riehl! You did it again!”

  “Did what?” Mammi asked, the very picture of surprise. She pushed open the passenger door and eased out of the car. Bess hopped out and stood beside her.

  The sheriff’s face turned purple-red. “Now, Miz Riehl, don’t be like that.”

  Out of nowhere, Billy Lapp stepped in front of Mammi and Bess and made a patting gesture with both hands. “You’ll have to excuse Bertha Riehl, Sheriff Kauffman. She’s feeling her age these days.” He made a clocklike motion around his ears with his hands. “I’ll make sure these ladies get right on home so they don’t cause any more trouble for you.”

  The sheriff turned to Billy with one hand on his gun holster. “You do that. And make sure that yellow-haired gal stops tempting her granny to a life of crime.”

  Mammi glared at Billy as he steered them by their elbows to the buggy. Billy tried to help her into the buggy, but she batted away his hand. “Feeling my age, am I?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I was only trying to keep you out of jail. What were you thinking?” Mammi wouldn’t answer, so he turned to Bess. “And just what do you think you’re doing? Why would you ever drive off in a sheriff’s car?” He reached out a hand to help her climb up in the buggy.

  Still mindful of seeing Billy drive Betsy Mast in his courting buggy the other day, Bess shook his hand off her arm. “We have our reasons,” she said huffily as she climbed into the buggy. As soon as they had left the main street, she turned to her grandmother. “Just what are our reasons?”

  “Why, no reason at all,” was all Mammi said, jutting out her big chin.

  Later that week, Bess was in the barn, spreading rose petals. She took off her bandanna and wiped her forehead and neck. It was already hot and only nine in the morning. She opened the barn doors to get a crosswind and leaned against the doorjamb for a moment. She scanned the farm as she tied her bandanna in a knot at the nape of her neck. She saw Billy in the fields, Mammi in the kitchen. Hot breezes sighed in the cornfield across the road. A row of crows on the fence line told each other off. A woodpecker was hard at work somewhere high in a treetop. The morning was going on around them.

  Suddenly she heard Billy holler like he’d seen a ghost. “Aphids! Bertha! We got aphids!”

  The kitchen door blew open and Bertha stood there, arms akimbo. “Aphids?!” She marched out to the rose fields like a general to the front lines. She bent over the rose that Billy was working on, then looked around her. “Why, they’re everywhere!”

  From the look on her face, Mammi had just declared war on the aphids. She pointed at Billy. “Scoot uptown and bring me back Coca-Cola.
Bring back as much as you can carry.” She turned on Bess, who was walking over to see the aphid invasion up close. “Run in the kitchen and get five dollars from my special hiding place. You go with Billy to help him carry the soda pop.”

  By the time Bess figured out that Mammi’s special hiding place for her money was an empty Folger’s coffee tin—the same place her father kept his money—Billy had the horse harnessed to its traces and was waiting for her. She hurried to join him, delighted at the turn of events that gave her time alone with him. Usually, Mammi was within shouting distance and added her two cents to their conversation. Bess tried to think of something interesting to say, something witty and wise. Just last night, she had been working out a few imaginary conversations with Billy, just in case an opportunity like this—driving together in a buggy—presented itself. But now her mind was empty. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. They were getting close to the store when she blurted out, “Why Coca-Cola?”

  “Kills aphids,” Billy said without even glancing at her. And then he fell silent.

  “What do you suppose it’s doing to your belly?” Bess said quietly.

  Billy turned to her, a surprised look on his face, before bursting out with a laugh. “Good point.” He flashed a dazzling smile at her. His smile seemed as if he had never smiled for anyone else in the world.

  Bess felt pleased. She had made Billy Lapp laugh.

  Satisfied that the aphids were done in, Mammi spent the rest of the afternoon on another project. Instead of drying the rose petals from today’s pickings, she said she was using them to make rose water. She filled a pot with clean rose petals. Then she poured boiling water over them and covered the pot with a lid. She turned off the heat and let the petals stand until they cooled.

  Before bedtime, Bess helped Mammi strain the petals from the water. They ended up with the most beautifully colored liquid a person would ever see. The liquid would be kept in the cooler and used whenever they would bake something that called for rose water, and Mammi would sell it in small mason jars. “And we’ll charge double at Dottie Stroot’s,” she told Bess.

  Some nights, like tonight, it was so hot that Bess couldn’t sleep. She threw off her sheets and went downstairs, finding her way by touch because it was so dark. She opened the back door and stepped into the yard. Boomer followed her out and disappeared into the shadows.

  She stood still for a moment. Ohio summers were even hotter, lacking the fresh breeze that seemed to always come through Stoney Ridge. There was just a sliver of a moon and the night was not totally black. She could make out vague shapes: the henhouse, the barn, the greenhouse, the cherry trees.

  Blackie slid out of nowhere and wove himself between her legs. Bess picked him up. “You’re getting fat! You must be feasting on barn mice.”

  Blackie jumped down and oozed away, insulted.

  She looked up at the velvety night sky, filled with star diamonds. It was a peaceful time. She still went back and forth about being there, but tonight she was glad to be here in Stoney Ridge with her grandmother.

  She thought of the things she had already learned to do this summer: how to pick roses and get rid of aphids, how to dry rose petals to make tea and jam, how to make rose water. And how to make a fair profit. How to bake a cherry pie. Mammi told her that was just the beginning of things she needed to learn.

  How much more learning can I take? she wondered as she rubbed her head.

  Later that week, Mammi made one more valiant effort to steal the sheriff’s car. Bess tried to talk her out of it all the way into Stoney Ridge, but Mammi went right on merrily ahead with her plan.

  “But why, Mammi? You’re going to give that sheriff a heart attack! Why would you want to kill the poor man?”

  Mammi set her jaw in that stubborn way and wouldn’t answer.

  This time, as Bess coaxed the sheriff’s car slowly onto the road, Mammi flipped a switch and the siren went on. In the rearview mirror, Bess saw the sheriff run out of the bank and into the road. She pulled the car over and hung her head. Her grandmother was certifiably crazy and she was the accomplice.

  The sheriff opened the passenger door for Mammi and helped her out. “Miz Riehl, you are turning into a one-woman crime wave.”

  Mammi’s eyes were circles of astonishment. Stoically, she stiffened her arms and offered her wrists to the sheriff for handcuffing. “Do what you must, Johnny.”

  Now a crowd started to gather. The sheriff paled. “Aw, Miz Riehl, don’t make me do this.”

  “You are sworn to uphold the law.” Mammi clucked her tongue. “Think of all them voters, watching their tax dollars at work. You can’t be playing favorites.”

  “Dadblast it, Miz Riehl! If I didn’t know better, I would say you are trying to get yourself thrown in the clink.” His face was shading purple.

  “Nothing of the sort! But I do get one phone call.”

  The sheriff narrowed his eyes and thought hard for a moment. “Get in the patrol car, Miz Riehl. You too, missy.” He meant Bess.

  Mammi slid into the back of the patrol car and patted on the seat beside her for Bess. Bess wanted to die, right there on the spot. But Mammi looked as content as a cat sitting in cream.

  The sheriff drove them to his office and took them inside. He pointed to two chairs by his desk. “Can I get you two anything to drink?”

  “Nothing for me,” Mammi said politely, lowering herself into a chair, “but my Bess here would like a soda pop.”

  Bess didn’t want a soda pop, the way her stomach was turning itself inside out. The sheriff went to the back of his office and brought back a warm Tab. He eased himself down into his chair and leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Now, Miz Riehl. Let’s cut the cackle and come straight to the point. Who do you want to call?”

  “Oh, I don’t want to call anyone,” Mammi said. She pointed at him. “But you can call someone.”

  The sheriff picked up the receiver. “What’s the number?”

  Mammi turned to Bess. “What’s the phone number to Jonah’s barn?”

  Bess’s jaw dropped open. “Oh no, Mammi, no! You can’t tell Dad about us getting arrested! He’ll be on the next bus to Stoney Ridge!”

  Mammi pushed a few loose gray wisps of hair back into her prayer cap. “Do tell.”

  5

  ______

  As Jonah hung up the phone on the wall of the workshop in his barn, he had to sit down. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard from the sheriff. His mother and his daughter were in jail for stealing a police car. In jail! If he hadn’t recognized the sheriff’s voice, he would have even thought it might be a prank call. Bess had been in Stoney Ridge for only a few weeks. What in blazes had been going on back there?

  He had to get there. He had to go, get Bess, and bring her home. As soon as possible. The thought of his precious daughter locked up in a city jail, surrounded by drug addicts and cat burglars and pickpockets and murderers, sickened him. He shuddered. Then he had a comforting thought. No one would bother her as long as his mother was nearby.

  He went in search of Mose to tell him that he would be in charge of the furniture business for the next few days.

  When Mammi and Bess returned to Rose Hill Farm that afternoon, freed from the sheriff after promising that they would stop taking his car, they found a bucket of water sitting on the porch, two big catfish, mad as hornets, swimming inside. “They are sure ugly fish,” Mammi said, “but they make good eatings.” She picked up the bucket and took it in the house, but turned toward Bess at the door. “My ladies need feeding. And take the big pail for eggs. Lift every hen.”

  Bess always gathered every one she found, but maybe some days she didn’t look as hard as she might. She picked up the pail by the kitchen door and turned to Mammi. “Aren’t you wondering where those fish came from?”

  “Billy left ’em,” Mammi said. “He’s done it before.”

  Bess took off her big black bonnet and hung it on the porch railing. She walked
across the yard to the henhouse, cataloging her woes. Her father, understandably, had been astounded to hear that she was at the police station and said he was on his way to Stoney Ridge. He would probably be here by morning, if not late tonight, to take her home. Just when she was starting to feel encouraged about her developing friendship with Billy Lapp.

  On the buggy ride back to Rose Hill Farm, Bess had fought back tears. She asked her grandmother, why didn’t she just say she wanted to send her home? Why go to all that trouble to aggravate the poor sheriff?

  Mammi gave her a look of pure astonishment. “I don’t want you going home.” She turned her gaze to the back of the horse. “I want my boy to come home.”

  “But why?”

  “It’s high time.” Then her jaw clamped shut in Mammi’s own stubborn way and she didn’t give up another word all the way home.

  What troubled Bess the most was that she understood Mammi’s logic. In fact, even more worrisome, she thought it was pretty smart. Her father wouldn’t have come back to Stoney Ridge under any other circumstance than an emergency. And finding out his daughter was thrown in jail for stealing a sheriff’s car would definitely constitute an emergency.

  She got a scoop of cracked corn from the feed bin and tossed it around the ground as the chickens tried to peck at her bare toes. Life just wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair at all. Under the late afternoon sky, all life seemed wrung out.

  From the kitchen window came the smell of catfish sizzling in the frying pan. Suddenly, Billy came flying out of the barn, pounding for the house, face first, bellowing like a calf, “No! No! Don’t eat it!”

  With eyes as big as quarters, Bess watched him jump the steps into the kitchen. She threw the corn on the ground and ran up to the house. Inside, Billy grabbed the frying pan from a startled Mammi and tossed it into the sink. Then he yelped in pain, “Eyeow!” and hopped on one leg. He had burnt his hands from picking up the pan without a rag.