That Which Was Lost Read online

  That Which Was Lost

  Amish Secret Widows’ Society Book 10

  Samantha Price

  Copyright © 2015 Samantha Price

  All Rights Reserved

  License Notes

  No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system,

  without written permission from the author.

  Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  *****************

  This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Chapter 1.

  It is the glory of God to conceal a thing:

  but the honour of kings is to search out a matter.

  Proverbs 25:2

  Ettie pottered about in the garden planting the seeds that her younger friends, Silvie and Maureen, had given her the night before. At just over eighty and no longer spritely getting down on her knees was both time-consuming and painful, but the promise of new flowers in the summer powered her through. Besides, she always loved the smell of spring; it told a story of rebirth, which at her age was always reassuring.

  Ettie often wondered if her life had grown too comfortable, raised as she was to believe boredom inspired sin in the young and led to the first rung on the journey to dementia in the old. But surrounded by her friends, young and old, Ettie enjoyed comfort. Having just conquered a bad case of pneumonia she was determined to enjoy whatever time God had blessed her with.

  After putting her gardening tools away, Ettie prepared herself a cup of meadow tea. She settled down in her couch to enjoy a quiet moment before her sister, Elsa-May, came back from town. A loud knock on the door sounded, which made her jolt and spill a little tea into her saucer. "Ach nee." She wasn't expecting any visitors or mail this late in the day. “Give an old girl a minute,” she called out, pushing herself out of her comfortable spot.

  When she opened the door and faced her caller, she was glad she'd set her cup on the table on her way to the door. “It's you. Is it really you?” Late afternoon sunlight shone through the woman's blonde hair, giving her a golden halo. “Myra.”

  “Mamm, you'll catch flies if you don't close your mouth.” Myra’s mouth formed a smile, but no hint of a smile touched her eyes. “Any chance I can come in or should I stand here in the garden?”

  Ettie's heart pounded in her chest. “You wouldn’t get away with being so cheeky if your vadder were still alive.” She gulped on the lump forming in her throat. “Come in.”

  Myra passed her mother and entered the house, carrying a suitcase close to her side.

  Ettie looked down at the suitcase. “How long's it been?” She stood back, palms on cheeks, still gaping.

  “I know.” Myra lowered her head before looking at her mother. “Too long. I’m sorry, Mamm. It never seemed the right time to contact you.”

  Once Myra set her suitcase on the floor, Ettie put both hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “I think it was at your vadder’s funeral, and I haven’t seen you since.”

  “Oh, Mamm, it’s so good to see you.” Myra wrapped her arms around Ettie, and Ettie gave her daughter the first hug in decades.

  Once the emotional reunion ended, Ettie stepped back, now practical and curious. She glanced again at Myra’s suitcase. “You’ve come to stay?”

  “For a while if that’s okay.”

  Ettie bit her lip. She had only half the say in the household since she shared with her sister, Elsa-May. “We’ve only two bedrooms in this small haus. You’ll have to share with me.”

  Myra's hands shook, and her eyes were a swollen, ruddy mess, as though she'd been crying for some time.

  “Sit down on the couch.” Ettie waved her through into the living room. “Let me get you something to drink and eat. Did you drive far?”

  “Mamm, don’t fuss. You still have the compulsive need to feed people. I need to tell you something.” When they sat, Myra said, “I need to talk to you before we do anything else. It's important, and I want to get it out of me and tell someone who won't patronize me.”

  Ettie could sense fear; Myra’s presence had made the room sizzle with tension. “You're worrying me. How bad is it? Are you ill?”

  “No, no. Well, recent events haven’t helped my well being.” Myra’s eyes glazed over after giving a large sigh. “I don’t know if I should have come, but I’ve nowhere else to turn.”

  They sat together in silence for a few more moments before Ettie said, “Just tell me what happened and start at the beginning.”

  Myra remained silent.

  The tense atmosphere weighed heavily on Ettie as the seconds passed like hours. “Whatever it is, I'm sure I can help you.”

  “Oh.” Myra's tears fell down her cheeks. “I thought you could help, but now I'm not sure it was a good idea. I shouldn't show up like this and expect you to help me after I haven’t spoken to you in years.”

  Ettie reached onto her coffee table and plucked out several tissues from a box. “Here.” Ettie handed her the tissues. “Of course, you should. Now tell me, let me help you. Blow your nose, take a deep breath, and when you're ready, put this old woman out of her misery.”

  Myra cleaned herself up and inhaled deeply. “Peter, my husband of ten years has vanished.”

  Ettie frowned; she hadn’t known that her daughter had married. The rift between them had been great. The tragedy to bring her back must have been greater. “What do you mean by vanished?”

  “He’s gone; he’s disappeared,” Myra said.

  Ettie saw her daughter's heart break before her eyes, and every instinct in her body stung, urging her to do something, to fix things. All she could do was hold Myra's hand. “What did the police say?”

  “They think I'm a sad, stupid middle aged woman. They think Peter’s found a younger woman and run off with her.”

  Ettie wiped the tears from Myra's cheek. “Did they do anything useful? Like, check into his friends or extended family? His work colleagues?”

  Myra rubbed her face. “Peter maintained that he was estranged from his family. He never asked me about my family and I never asked him about his.” Myra dragged her fingers back through her hair.

  Ettie nodded. “What have the police done?”

  “Oh, I don't know, Mamm. And they washed their hands of the investigation, so I'm unlikely to find out."

  “How could they? He's still missing.”

  “Oh, Mamm, it's so much worse than that.”

  “Worse, how?”

  “They said his birth certificate, the one he used for our marriage, is fake.” Myra stood and paced up and down, her tears relentless. “Who the hell did I marry?”

  “People don't just up and vanish, Myra. He's out there somewhere.” Ettie’s mouth was suddenly dry. She thought of what Detective Crowley would do. “Did they track his cell phone, his credit cards, that sort of thing?”

  “He didn’t like to use credit cards. We had one that was in my name, and he used a pre-paid cell, which they couldn’t track for some reasons. He committed no real crime according to them, so they said there are no more leads for them to follow. Without a real identity, they have nothing to go on.”

  Ettie didn't want to ask her next question, but had to broach the subject. “Do you think Peter had anything to do with his own disappearance?”

  Myra snapped her head around. “No! I can't believe anything bad about him, I won't.”

  Ettie stood, grabbed her daughter's hands to stop her from pacing. “I had to ask you.”

  Myra rested her head o
n Ettie's shoulder. “I want him back.”

  Ettie patted Myra’s back while she thought things through.

  Myra stepped away from Ettie and plucked more tissues from the box.

  “Fake birth certificate, you say?” Ettie didn't like the sound of that. What kind of man uses a fake birth certificate to get married? A bigamist? A criminal on the run? “What about his passport or his driver’s license? Surely one of those would turn up something.”

  “No, he had no passport, and his driver’s license had been secured with his fake birth certificate.” Myra shrugged. “There's no record of a Peter Davis. Well, there are loads of men named Peter Davis, it's a common name, but none is my Peter. My husband simply doesn't exist anymore.” She frowned at her mother. “I've been married for ten years to someone who does not exist, and I don't know what to do about it. And worse, I don’t know where he is or what’s happened to him. Did I tell you most of his things are gone from the house?”

  Ettie shook her head.

  Chapter 2.

  And without controversy great is the mystery of godliness:

  God was manifest in the flesh, justified in the Spirit,

  seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles,

  believed on in the world, received up into glory.

  1 Timothy 3:16

  Ettie sent Myra up for a bath and wondered how she would break the news of Myra’s sudden visit to Elsa-May. While she prepared fried chicken and creamed potatoes, Ettie heard the taxi stop in front of the house. She took a deep breath and went to meet Elsa-May at the front door.

  “Don’t just stand there; help me with these bags,” Elsa-May ordered as she walked up the front steps with hands full of grocery bags.

  “Jah, I will, but just set them down before you go into the house; I need to tell you something.”

  Elsa-May promptly sat her bags down and eyed Ettie carefully. “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, nothing really. It’s just that Myra’s come to stay for a bit.”

  Elsa-May’s eyebrows rose so high that they nearly touched the front of her prayer kapp. “Myra, your Myra?”

  Ettie nodded.

  “What’s that girl doing here after all this time?” Elsa-May asked.

  “Hush, she’s having a bath.”

  “That’s not what I mean, Ettie. She and her schweschder haven’t called or visited in years, so why now?” Elsa-May’s lips formed a straight, disapproving line.

  Ettie’s eyes dropped from her sister’s face onto the bags of food. “She’s only here for a reason; she’s in trouble. Come in, and I’ll tell you all that she told me.”

  Both ladies carried the food into the house. While Ettie continued cooking dinner, Elsa-May put the food away.

  “It’s an intriguing story,” Elsa-May said once Ettie had told her everything. They sat with hot tea at the kitchen table. Elsa-May leaned over the table and whispered, “She can’t stay here. We’ve no room; the haus is barely big enough for the two of us. See if she can stay with Emma.”

  “Nee, I can’t do that. She can sleep in my room with me.”

  Elsa-May’s mouth turned down to form a scowl.

  “What else can I do, Elsa-May? She’s my dochder, and I haven’t seen her for so long.”

  Rubbing her chin, Elsa-May asked, “Well, what do you think the bishop would have to say about her staying here?”

  Ettie pressed her lips together. “The Yoders had Sam stay with them when he was on rumspringa. He stayed with them for two weeks. I’m putting my foot down, Elsa-May. This haus is half mine, and she’s staying.”

  Elsa-May glared at Ettie for a moment before relenting with a nod.

  “Let’s try to figure things out before Myra comes down,” Ettie said.

  “Whichever way you look at it Peter is guilty of something,” Elsa-May said with a snarl. “If most of his clothes are missing it doesn’t look like foul play.”

  “Jah, he must be a conman or a trickster, but what was his con? And why leave now after ten years with Myra? On the other hand, was Peter killed? Someone killed Peter for some reason and had to get rid of all trace of him. But murderers dispose of bodies, not identities. Who would bother, and why would they care about every tiny detail?”

  “Stop, Ettie. You’re going off on too many tangents, sounding like a mad woman. You need to keep a level head. Intelligent information is what we need.”

  The table was set and food ready to eat by the time Myra came downstairs wearing a blue robe and her hair in a towel turban. Her makeup gone, she was a gaunt shadow of the young, strong-willed daughter who ran away determined to make a life away from the Amish.

  With a lump in her throat, Ettie remembered her little girl in plain dress, apron and prayer kapp. “You're right on time, my girl, and you look so much better.” Ettie dished out the food onto the center of the table.

  “I don't feel better, but thanks.” Myra pulled out a chair slowly as if the effort were too much. She sat down then leaped out of her chair when she saw Elsa-May in the corner of the kitchen. “Ant Elsa.” She hurried to her aunt and gave her a tight hug.

  Elsa-May patted Myra on the shoulder. “I keep telling you it’s Elsa-May. I don’t call you Myr, do I?”

  A girlish giggle sprang from Myra when she stepped back. “Still the same, I see.”

  Ettie coughed to hide her emotion at seeing her feisty child reduced to a vulnerable adult.

  When they were all seated at the table, Myra said, “This all looks delicious, Mamm, although a sandwich would have done the job. You didn't need to go to so much trouble.”

  “No trouble, we have to eat too.” They shared eye contact for a moment and a glimmer of a smile. “I’ll find some cider.” Ettie stood and took a few steps toward the cold box before turning back. “Or would you prefer ginger beer?”

  “Do you have wine? I think I’ve earned a glass,” Myra said.

  “We don’t have any wine. Cider’s the best we can offer,” Elsa-May said.

  After Ettie had poured the cider into the glasses, Ettie and Elsa-May closed their eyes in a silent prayer of thanks to God for the food.

  When they opened their eyes, Elsa-May said, “Eat up, Myra, you'll need your strength for what's to come.”

  Myra looked at all the food. “Sorry, I'm so tired. I lost my appetite.”

  Ettie said, “You're no good to yourself or Peter if you starve to death. Besides, an empty stomach leads to an ...”

  “An empty head. I remember." Myra sighed and ripped a chunk of fried chicken from the bone. “I never could get my food to taste as good as yours, Mamm.”

  After dinner, they took tea into the living room.

  “What about his work?” Ettie asked, winding her fingers around the strings of her prayer kapp. It helped her to concentrate. “Surely there's paperwork there. They must know him; didn't they pay him, didn't he make friends? They might be able to help you find him.”

  “The place where he said he worked told the police that they have never had a Peter Davis working for there. Ten years he claimed he worked for that company, yet he never attended one Christmas party. He always said that he didn't like anyone there and preferred to spend time with me.” Myra’s eyes glazed over. “We were both loners; we only had each other. I suppose I should have thought it odd.”

  “Don't you feel this is your fault. Why would anyone suspect he lied about his job because he didn't like their parties?” Ettie said.

  Myra nodded, sniffed back more tears, and blew her nose for the second time since dinner. “Thanks, Mamm. I knew you'd keep me rational, you always did.” She grabbed her mother's hands in hers. “Please help me find him. The police wrote him off as a conman, a cheat because of his falsified birth certificate. They said he left me, and I should get on with my life. How do they expect me to do that?”

  Elsa-May cleared her throat and asked, “Did he take any money?”

  Myra shook her head. “No. He always had his money in my name; he said that it was better th
at way for tax. Even the house was in my name.”

  “His name was on nothing?” Elsa-May frowned.

  “It’s not so unusual, Aunt Elsa-May. Women are considered equals away from the Amish community.”

  “Women aren’t less than men in the community, Myra.” Elsa-May’s voice rose.

  Ettie put up her hand and glared at Elsa-May. “That’s a subject for another time, not now.” She looked back at her daughter. “So he has nothing in his name, and everything was in your name?”

  Myra nodded.

  The two elderly ladies stared at each other and exchanged knowing looks. They both knew that they needed the help of Detective Crowley.

  A knock on the door made them all jump.

  “Hello?” Maureen poked her head through the front doorway.

  “Come in, Maureen,” Ettie called out.

  Maureen, their young friend who was also a widow, sat in the living room and were told of Myra’s story.

  “Does Crowley know?” Maureen asked.

  The elderly ladies shook their heads.

  Myra straightened her back. “Crowley, Ronald Crowley? Is he still in the area?”

  “You know him?” Elsa-May asked.

  “I knew him. It was a long time ago now. I didn’t even think of contacting him,” Myra said.

  “Will you visit him tomorrow, Maureen, and have him call on us?” Elsa-May asked.

  “Mamm, surely we can go see him,” Myra said.

  “Nee, he’ll come and see us,” Ettie insisted.

  Maureen left without saying why she’d visited.

  Elsa-May rose to her feet. “I’ll be off to bed.” She patted Myra on the arm. “We'll figure this out, my girl, but you must be strong.”

  Myra wiped her tears away. “Strong? I'll do my best, Aunt Elsa.” Myra giggled at using half of Elsa-May’s name once more.

  Elsa-May shook her head at Myra’s cheekiness. Ettie knew her daughter was trying to make herself feel better by having a light-hearted moment.

  “We’ve only a small haus, Myra, I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep in my room,” Ettie said once her sister was out of the room.