Between Two Worlds Page 12

  After lunch there was a half hour more of singing, followed by another three hours of sermons, Scripture readings, and silent prayer. Aiden was exhausted by the time it all ended in midafternoon. He leaned against a porch post by the footpath out front and watched as everyone gathered on the Schrock’s lawn, waiting for family members to hitch their horses, stabled in the barn or tied to posts. The dozens of buggies were parked along the blacktop lane or in the gravel driveway.

  Aiden had never seen so many Amish in one place, other than at the horse auction. He watched, fascinated, the orderly progression of so many people climbing into horse-drawn buggies and carriages.

  Next to the Schrock’s mailbox, Aiden spotted Daniel, boosting a tall, thin woman into a carriage. Samuel, who had just stepped out of the house, stood next to Aiden and squeezed his shoulder.

  “Ach,” he said, smiling, his gray eyes twinkling in the afternoon sun. “Daniel is giving Tara another ride home. That’s goot.”

  A strange feeling pushed into Aiden. He shook it off and, after watching Daniel climb into the carriage next to Tara and command Gertrude forward, followed Samuel back into the house to see if he could be of any use loading the benches and other things onto the Church Wagon.

  Chapter 13

  “I need your help.”

  “Where’re you calling from?”

  “Phone shack down the lane.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know where Mark is, his bike’s gone. I’m worried about him.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s been some talk, I’m worried. Can you drive me around to look for him?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “I don’t want the others to know. Meet me at the end of the lane at the corner of County Road 100.”

  Aiden found Daniel waiting against a wooden fence post, tugging fitfully at his beard, as he pulled his Chevy Aveo to the gravel shoulder. The pale light from the quarter moon showed that he had dressed in a hurry, not even bothering to put on his suspenders or wide-brimmed hat, important parts of Amish identity. Near one in the morning, Aiden thought it unsettling to see an Amish person out so late. Daniel leaped toward his car and opened the passenger door before Aiden could even come to a full stop.

  “Daniel, what’s going on?”

  “It’s Mark, the rumspringa. I’m worried he might be into something bad.”

  “What is it?”

  “Let’s go, please go back the way you came, then turn right at Highway 11.”

  Aiden did what Daniel commanded, his mouth taut and his heart pounding in his throat. As they drove down the deserted, darkened lanes, Daniel craned his head from side to side, turning in his seat as if desperate to find something.

  Aiden could no longer stand it. “Please, Daniel, tell me what’s going on.”

  Daniel hesitated. “Promise me you won’t report on this,” he said, keeping his eyes out the window.

  “Report? Of course I wouldn’t do that. Whatever it is, you can trust me. Just forget that I work at the Blade, for once.”

  “There’s been talk… talk of some parties.” Daniel massaged his beard, a habit Aiden had become accustomed to whenever Daniel grew anxious. “Bad parties… with the rumspringa and English youth.”

  “Bad parties?”

  “Drugs, drinking.”

  Aiden gripped the steering wheel tighter.

  “Please promise me you won’t report on this,” Daniel said again, fixing on him now.

  “Of course I won’t, Daniel.” Aiden was flustered that Daniel did not fully trust him at this juncture of their relationship. When Daniel had called him for help, he was more than pleased; it proved that he was viewing him as more than a simple acquaintance. More than some nuisance he tolerated for the sake of his family. He only wished he’d yield more to his trusting side.

  Four days had passed since he’d last seen or heard from Daniel. After spying him leaving with that Amish girl, Tara, on Church Sunday, he’d given him a wider berth. He’d wanted to visit the furniture shop, but had talked himself out of crossing the street. Had jealousy held him back? The thought crossed his mind. But he didn’t want to believe it. Like Samuel and Rachel, he was happy for Daniel, that he was persevering past the death of his wife and baby son and living his life.

  No doubt Daniel’s handsome features singed Aiden’s cheeks at times, but he wasn’t so shallow as to let a man’s good looks manipulate him. And he wasn’t so stupid as to fall for someone as unobtainable as an Amish man. After his negative experience with Conrad, he was leery about falling for anyone. Sure, he liked Daniel. Who wouldn’t, considering all he had lived through? Losing a wife and baby. Such a horrible tragedy. But he harbored deep emotions for all the Schrocks.

  He was more than eager to reciprocate Daniel’s first real attempt to reach out to him. Now he could show his compassion through friendship and good will, since Daniel had yet to mention his personal losses. He’d been reading in bed when Daniel had telephoned. Snapping his cell phone shut as soon as Daniel had hung up, he’d tossed his silly paperback aside and had scrambled to dress and meet Daniel, just as he’d instructed. Still, he worried that Daniel viewed him as an outsider.

  “Don’t you think you can trust me by now?” Aiden wanted to lay out his feelings once and for all, to let Daniel know he had no reason to distance himself from him any longer. He spoke in German to emphasize his sentiments. “I am your friend, Daniel. I would never do anything to hurt you or your family. Not in a million years.”

  Cheeks burning, Daniel stared through the windshield as the headlighted road disappeared under Aiden’s hatchback. He understood about half of Aiden’s strange textbook German, but enough to get his point. Aiden was right. It was not fair to treat him like a criminal when he’d done nothing to warrant it. If only Aiden knew the real reason why he always acted so harsh whenever in his company.

  He thought back to when he’d last seen Aiden, during the gmay at his family’s farm. Aiden’s voice had sounded almost angelic when he’d sung from the Ausbund. He’d captured both the somberness and joy of the lyrics, as perhaps the original hymn writers, imprisoned for their beliefs five hundred years ago, had felt them. Daniel had stiffened as Aiden’s voice caressed him. He had wanted to look at him in admiration, as many of the parishioners furtively were, but he had forcibly kept facing the pulpit, afraid that his tender feelings would be too obvious to all.

  He’d promised himself he would avoid Aiden as much as possible, to avoid any gossip from the community; yet, when he’d realized he needed a car to search for Mark, it was Aiden, not his English or Mennonite neighbors or Joe Karpin, whom he’d first thought of to call. He was grateful for Aiden leaving his cell number with the family before he’d left for Chicago, something he had jeered at, at the time. He was suspicious of outsiders by nature, but the truth was, at that moment there were few people in God’s creation other than Aiden Cermak whom he could count on.

  “I think there may be some illegal drugs going around,” Daniel said. “Eli Rupp’s son, Milo, was picked up a couple of weeks ago with crystal meth. The police claim he was trying to sell it.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Daniel peered at Aiden. Of course he would know. He was sure Aiden had written an article about Milo Rupp’s arrest for The Henry Blade. Aiden probably knew more about it than he did. Simultaneously unsettled and relieved, he decided to utilize Aiden’s expertise in the matter to its fullest.

  “I’m worried Mark might be caught up in it somehow,” he said. “The last few weeks he’s been staying out far later than is proper. Mom and Dad speak to him, but he says nothing. I’m sure something’s going on with him. It’s his rumspringa, I know; he’s acting different.”

  “He seemed fine at church on Sunday. He was kind of quiet, but seemed fine.”

  “I can’t explain it, there’s something going on, I just know.”

  “Do his eyes look dilated?”

  “Dilated?”

 
“Are his pupils really big?”

  “I don’t know. I… I don’t remember.”

  “Does he seem hyper?”

  “No, not really. Do you have any idea where these bad parties could be?”

  Aiden ran through the database in his mind. The article he’d written last week about crystal methamphetamine abuse in the Amish community was brief, since he had few facts to support it. Nothing more than a sidebar to accompany his story about Milo Rupp’s arrest. Aiden did not want to be one of those journalists who placed assumption above facts to sell newspapers. His boss Kevin held the same principles. He refused to write an article making wide accusations about an entire community because of the arrest of one teenager.

  Still, there were certain realities that he could not ignore: that in some cases across the country, rare as they might be, Amish were caught either using or dealing drugs. Those rare incidents had been the premise of his short sidebar. From what he’d gathered in his research, crystal methamphetamine was the drug of choice.

  He was surprised to have learned that people in rural areas are more likely to abuse crystal methamphetamine than even those in the inner city. It turned out to be a matter of supply—the chemicals needed to make crystal methamphetamine are common ingredients found in farming fertilizer, and could easily be bought at local hardware and farming stores. Realistically, he supposed some Amish youth, chiefly during their rumspringa, could be tempted to use or sell the drug, although he had no idea how pervasive the practice might be.

  “I’m not sure where they have parties,” he said, his voice sounding more wavering than he had wanted. “Milo Rupp said that he used to get the drugs from an English farmer over by Hindsdale. But that’s all he would say, he never would tell police where exactly, or from who.”

  “Hindsdale? That’s the eastern district.”

  “Do you want me to drive there?”

  “Ya, please.” Daniel nodded. “Maybe there’s something going on that way tonight.”

  Aiden hoped there was nothing going on. Hard to imagine Mark Schrock getting involved in anything illegal, like drugs. Undoubtedly the teen was enjoying his running-around time, but Aiden knew that he was as bright a boy as they came, with a firm grasp on commonsense and good values. But if there was trouble, he hoped they found Mark before trouble found him.

  Hand over hand, Aiden turned into the direction of the main artery that would take them quickly to the eastern part of Frederick County, or the “eastern district,” where a smaller Amish community lived. He’d learned to navigate many of the roads in the area, since his job as a reporter required he sometime drive out to farms and the little villages scattered about the area for interviews and to photograph special events. Strange how just over a month ago he’d gotten lost traveling these same roads, trying to find his way back to Chicago. Now he knew those roads rather well. They weaved past his own house.

  They passed I-57—and the notorious adult superstore, its parking lot brightly lit and a quarter full of cars and trucks—and he waited for Daniel to instruct him where to go. Daniel told him to turn right on a gravel lane where he knew most of the Amish lived. Several minutes later, Daniel told him to shut off the headlights and pull over.

  “I see some lights flickering in that barn,” he said, the veins on his neck like twine.

  Without hesitation, Aiden heeded Daniel’s instructions. As soon as Aiden stopped the Chevy, Daniel silently got out. Aiden followed him across the gravel lane that glowed like a long gray ribbon in the night.

  “What is it?” he whispered, scurrying closer to Daniel’s side.

  “It’s the Lapp farm. I think I saw some lights in their barn. Flashlights or lanterns, maybe, or maybe something else. Mark sometimes hangs out with the Lapp boy, Jeremy. I never trusted him. I seen him smoke cigarettes a few times at the flea market when he thought no one was looking.”

  “Do you think something’s going on in there?”

  “Not sure, I don’t see any buggies or Mark’s bike. Maybe they hid them inside.”

  “I don’t hear any rock music or anything.”

  “Maybe it’s just the two of them. Besides, no Amish would be up this late in their barn, choring, especially not the Lapps. They’re faul.”

  “Faul?”

  “They’re lazy.”

  “Do you think the Lapps would be involved in anything illegal? Milo Rupp said that he got the drugs from an English farmer; this is an Amish farm.”

  Daniel stopped just as they crossed the gravel lane and looked firmly at Aiden. “Now remember, you promised no reporting, you’re here with me as a friend. You’re not on the job.”

  “Yes, I promise.” Aiden resented how his position as reporter had given Daniel reason to distrust him. Yet a lump filled Aiden’s throat. Daniel had referred to him as a friend. His first verbal acknowledgment of their friendship. Aiden’s heart fluttered like a chick.

  They sidestepped the driveway to avoid the crunch of gravel under their shoes. They walked slowly, yet steadfastly, on the grass toward the barn. With only a quarter moon concealed behind intermittent corncob-shaped black clouds to light their way, Aiden stayed close to Daniel’s side. With his sense of sight dulled, the smell of livestock seemed all the stronger. The taste of farmland was thick on his tongue. He was certain he could hear every minute sound too.

  A dog barking in the distance gave him a start. Daniel indicated he also heard the barking. Stopping to gauge where the barking was coming from, they decided the dog was far enough off not to worry about and continued toward the barn. There was a rustle closer by. Daniel stopped and held Aiden back by grabbing onto his arm. A frisson of electricity shot through Aiden as the heat transferred from Daniel’s large, calloused hand to Aiden’s bicep.

  “I hear something,” Daniel whispered.

  “Me too. What do you think it is?”

  “Not sure, hope it’s not that hound coming to check us out. We shoulda brought something just in case, like a stick.”

  “I could look for something in the car—”

  “No,” Daniel said, still in the alert position. “Let’s just get this over with, hound or no hound. Besides, I think it’s just a field mouse. Sounds like something rustling underneath some straw, can’t be too big.”

  Aiden had faced much larger fears than field mice and overzealous hounds when backpacking in the woods. Lying in his tent at night, he had imagined every creak or rustle to be that of a bear or coyote—or even a psycho. Why would he feel that kind of paranoia now, in the middle of Amish Country?

  They continued along the grass, careful to make as little noise as possible. Nearing the barn, Daniel, with Aiden on his heels, made a wide berth, circling the barn like a cat after its prey. The light through the cracks flickered, though there was no sound.

  They closed in on the barn; another rustling sound made Aiden’s heart leap. This time it came farther to their left, near the house. Daniel scanned for lights or any shadows.

  “There’s nothing there,” he said.

  There was a stir inside the barn. Daniel put his ear up against the planks. He listened for a good minute, then peered into a small crevice, but said he was unable to see anything. Standing erect, he brought his finger to his lips to insist that any questions Aiden had be deferred, and motioned for him to follow.

  They skulked the length of the barn. Daniel used his hands to feel for the front as Aiden held on to his sleeve. As they neared the swing door, Aiden heard something from inside. It might be a horse or a cow, he tried to allay his fears, or any number of farm animals or rodents that live inside barns.

  “Do you hear that?” Aiden whispered.

  “Shhh.” Daniel glanced at Aiden and nodded, indicating that he too heard the same strange noise.

  Hearing the noise grow louder—it sounded like a combination of humming and heavy breathing—Aiden stopped and pulled at Daniel to stop him from going farther. But Daniel gently pushed him off. His arms stiffened by his sides and his hands cl
enched into tight fists. He inhaled, as if forcing all his strength into his body’s core. Standing in front of the barn door now, he gestured for Aiden to stand back. With one swift motion, he kicked open the swing door and hollered in Pennsylvania German to startle whoever was inside.

  The sniveling of a little boy caught Aiden and Daniel unprepared. The shaking boy’s gas lantern swung in his small hand from when he had jumped up in alarm, casting eerie, oscillating shadows about the barn. With tears streaming down his round face, the boy begged Daniel for mercy.

  Aiden and Daniel looked down at the boy, speechless. A diminutive lamb, feeble and unmoved by the commotion, lay next to the boy’s bare feet.