Page 22 of A Gathering of Secrets

Luane visibly winces at the mention of the Gingerich name. Clasping her hands in front of her, she fastens her gaze to the floor. She’s a pretty thing with flawless skin and cheeks prone to flushing. Her almond-shaped eyes are the color of faded denim and fringed with lashes so long and perfect, they look fake. Like her mamm, she’s slightly overweight, but even in the homemade blue dress she’s wearing, her curves are appealing.

Generally speaking, the Amish are stoic when it comes to displays of emotion, and that includes grief. They believe that death is part of God’s plan. But sixteen-year-old girls—whether they’re Amish or English—are not predisposed to emotional self-control, and Luane Raber looks as if she’s spent the last two days crying. Her eyes are puffy. Her cheeks are red. And her nose looks as if it’s been blown enough times to chafe skin.

“I know this is a difficult time for you,” I begin. “When’s the last time you saw Daniel?”

“Four days ago. He helped Datt cut corn and then stayed for supper.”

“He was courting you, right?”

Luane blushes prettily, looks down at her hands where she’s slowly shredding a tissue that’s long since served its purpose. “Ja.”

“How long have you known him?” I ask.

“Since I was nine or ten.”

“You’ve been friends most of your lives then?”

“Ja.” A smile touches her mouth. “Once he stopped picking on me, anyway.”

“Tell me about him,” I say, hoping to get a feel for what kind of relationship they had.

Her smile expands and for the first time she looks animated. The way a girl her age should look. “He was … goot-maynich.” Kind. “Funny, too. Always making people laugh. We were going to get married.” She closes her eyes and another round of tears squeezes between her lashes and rolls over her cheeks. “Next fall. After harvest.”

Realizing his daughter is in distress, Mose steps in. “Daniel was a hard worker. Put in ten hours on the farm with his datt and then went to his regular job down to the farm store in town.”

“He’s been like a son to us for years,” Sue adds.

“Ate like a horse,” Mose puts in with a smile.

Luane doesn’t bother wiping the tears that have begun to roll down her cheeks; she doesn’t look at me. Her misery is palpable, her grief all-encompassing. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. He was … everything.”

“Gott immah havva en planen,” her mother says quietly. God always has a plan.

“Did Daniel have any disagreements with anyone recently?” I ask. “With any of his friends? Or family? A customer at the farm store? Anything like that?”

The three people exchange looks, their expressions perplexed and searching. Finally, Mose answers, “He wasn’t the kind of young man to have an argument with anyone.”

“He was easygoing,” Sue adds. “Even if he disagreed with something, he wouldn’t say.”

“Too polite, probably,” Mose puts in.

Interestingly, Luane has remained silent. I turn my attention to her. “Luane?”

My question seems to jolt her. She lifts her gaze to mine. “Everyone loved Danny.” Her eyes fill. “Everyone.”

Someone didn’t, a little voice whispers.

I wait, but no one attempts to fill the silence. “Luane, did any of the other boys want to court you before Daniel came along?”

Mose makes a sound of disapproval, letting me know he doesn’t like the question. I don’t look at him. I don’t take my eyes off his daughter.

“Daniel was always the one,” Sue cuts in. “Always.”

I maintain my focus on the girl. She can’t seem to make eye contact with me. I can’t tell if she’s shy or uncomfortable or too upset to answer, or if there’s something there she doesn’t want to discuss with me—or in the presence of her parents.

I rephrase the question. “Were any of the other young men jealous of your relationship with Daniel?”

“I don’t think so,” she mumbles.