fingers of both hands back through his long white hair.
“Because of the note?” Caroline asked.
“Yes, but more,” Cal said. He slouched in his white wicker chair, his stocky legs out straight and crossed at the ankles, coffee mug balanced on his belly, eventually saying only, “There must be more.”
“Agreed,” Branden said. “Let’s think it through.” He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and counted out each assertion on the fingers of his left hand. “First, the bishop put the ban on his own son, ten years ago.” The first finger went up.
“Must have been good cause,” Cal said.
“Indeed,” Branden said, and another finger went up. “Also, the bishop evidently thinks there’s good cause, now, to involve outsiders in this case.” A third finger popped up.
Cal stood up, walked over to the large windows of the screened porch, ran his eyes out toward the far hills in the east, and said, “He’d not have mentioned his son, or have involved us in this case, if it were simply a matter of a father taking his boy for the summer.”
“Precisely,” Branden said, and held up a fourth finger.
“Whatever the reason, his Dieners would have concurred,” Cal said.
“Right again,” Branden said, and lifted his thumb.
“You’d think that if the bishop were really worried about his grandson, he would have gone to the police,” Caroline said.
“They don’t trust them,” Branden said.
“Partly,” Cal said. “More likely, they think it’s not yet necessary. They simply haven’t gotten to the point where they think that the police need to be involved.”
“So,” Caroline said, “you’ve been asked to help the Old Order Amish find Bishop Miller’s grandson, who has evidently been taken for the summer by his father. The father was earlier shunned by his people. The note says that the boy will be returned at the end of the summer.”
“By harvest,” Cal interjected.
“Where’s the boy’s mother?” Caroline asked.
“Dead, according to the bishop.”
“Do we know who she was?” Caroline asked.
“No,” Branden said. “The bishop wouldn’t speak of her at all. Just that Jonah met her in a bar and left town before the child was born. The bishop and his wife took in the boy as an infant and have raised him since then. That’s all he would say.”
“Should be easy enough to find out who she was,” Caroline volunteered. “Doesn’t sound likely she was Amish.”
“No, and that could mean her folks would be more willing to talk about Jonah,” Cal observed.
After a moment in thought, Branden said, “It’s unusual for the bishop to have approached Englishers for help. And I agree with Caroline. Why come to us instead of the police?”
“That’s not out of line at all. They’d be unlikely, whatever the circumstances, to involve the police,” Cal said, and eased himself back down into one of the white wicker loungers.
“If you push this concept through to its logical extreme, this is a kidnapping case,” Caroline said. “It’s not just a ‘grand summer away with father.’”
“Their distrust of secular authority runs deep,” Cal said. “It’s part of their suspicion of outsiders. And governmental authorities are the most suspect of them all.”
Branden stood, paced to the far end of the porch, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and said, “I still don’t see a compelling reason for them to have come to us.”
“Perhaps one summer out in the world is more than they think the boy can handle,” Caroline offered.
“Yes, but there’s got to be more to this case than Miller’s let on,” Branden said.
“We’ll get little more out of him at this point,” Cal said. “We’ve already been told more than I would have expected.”
Branden said, “Then we’ll have to find out more from other sources, obviously.”
“That’ll take some time,” Cal said.
“There really isn’t much time left at all, when you consider what a cold start we’ll have finding Jonah,” Branden said. “The bishop gave it a month. Said something like ‘a month from now and it won’t matter anymore.’”
“He said the same thing to me,” Cal told Caroline.
“Before what?” Caroline asked. “If you believe the note, at the very worst, the boy’ll be gone for the summer and then brought home for harvest.”
They each fell silent and thought, Cal and Caroline seated, Branden pacing in front of the windows. Dense, billowing clouds had gathered over the valley. The afternoon breeze had grown chill.
Eventually, Branden said, “I keep coming back to the fact that the Amish, who insist on independence and self-reliance, have engaged the assistance of outsiders to solve what is essentially a family dispute over a boy.”
After a few quiet moments, Cal said, “We need to know more about the boy’s father, Jonah Miller.”
“How?” Branden said. “No one will talk to us about him.”
“No Amish will,” Caroline said. “But how about the authorities? Police, social services, schools, neighbors who are not Amish. Anywhere someone might have known Jonah E. Miller.”
“Or those who know Eli Miller,” Cal said.
“Good point,” Branden said. “Also the preachers and deacons in neighboring districts.”
“How about relatives of the boy’s mother?” Cal said.
“Maybe her folks have been in touch with Jonah,” Branden said.
“Good luck,” Cal said with obvious pessimism.
Branden stood at the windows for a while longer with his gaze focused on the distant hills, pale green under cover of gathering clouds.
Caroline asked, “Didn’t his teachers ask about Jeremiah?”
“The bishop told them he was needed on the farm,” Branden said.
Cal scoffed and then said, “I’ve got a few days yet. Maybe I can work on Amish folk who know the bishop. I might find one who’s willing to talk.”
“A few days before what, Cal?” Caroline asked, concern evident in her tone.
“Sorry, Caroline. Next week’s when I leave for the missions conference.”
“How long will you be gone?” Branden asked.
“A week. Too long for me to be of much help to the bishop. I’m hoping you’ll have it wrapped up before I’m back.”
“We’ll need your help, Cal,” Branden said. “Especially for talking with Miller’s neighbors.”
Troyer shrugged apologetically and said, “I’ve got half a week before I leave. I’ll get you started, Mike, but mostly you’re going to have to work this one yourself.”
“Then I’ll help,” Caroline said. “Teachers, newspapers, neighbors, that sort of thing.”
“Don’t you have a deadline on your book?” Branden asked.
Caroline shrugged and said, “I’ll do what I can, Michael.”
As they cleared the dishes, Branden added, “Just one more thing. I don’t know why, but the bishop has insisted on special conditions. He’s accepted our help only because he trusts that we’ll abide by those restrictions.”