Plain Truth by Jodi Picoult Read Free Book Online Page A

either.
    â€œHow … how are things at home?”
    â€œBusy,” Samuel said, carefully choosing his words. “We did the third cutting of hay today.” Hesitating, he added, “The police, they're still around.” He stared at Katie's fist, small and pink against the polyester blanket. Gently he took it between his own hands, and then slowly brought it up to his jaw.
    Katie curved her palm against his cheek; Samuel turned into the caress. Her eyes shining, she opened her mouth to speak again, but Samuel stopped her by putting a finger over her lips. “Sssh,” he said. “Not now.”
    â€œBut you must have heard things,” Katie whispered. “I want—”
    â€œI don't listen to what I've heard. I'll only listen to what you have to say.”
    Katie swallowed. “Samuel, I did not have a baby.”
    He looked at her for a long moment, then squeezed her hand. “All right, then.”
    Katie's eyes flew to his. “You believe me?”
    Samuel smoothed the blanket over her legs, tucking her in like a child. He stared at the shining fall of her hair and realized that he had not seen it this way, bright and loose, since they were both small. “I have to,” he said.
    The bishop in Elam Fisher's church district happened to be his own cousin. Old Ephram Stoltzfus was such a part of everyday life that even when acting as the congregational leader, he was remarkably accessible—stopping his buggy by the side of the road for a chat, or hopping off his plow in the middle of the field to make a suggestion. When Elam had met him earlier that day with the story of what had happened at the farm, he listened carefully and then said that he needed to speak to some others. Elam had assumed Ephram meant the church district's deacon, or two ministers, but the bishop had shaken his head. “The businessmen,” he'd said. “They're the ones who'll know how the English police work.”
    Just after suppertime, when Sarah was clearing the table, Bishop Ephram's buggy pulled up. Elam and Aaron glanced at each other, then walked outside to meet him.
    â€œEphram,” Aaron greeted, shaking the man's hand after he'd tied up his horse.
    â€œAaron. How is Katie?”
    It was slight, but Aaron stiffened visibly. “I hear she will be fine.”
    â€œYou did not go to the hospital?” Ephram asked.
    Aaron looked away. “Neh.”
    The bishop tipped his head, his white beard glowing in the setting sun. “Walk with me awhile?”
    The three men headed toward Sarah's vegetable garden. Elam sank down on a stone slab bench and gestured for Ephram to do the same. But the bishop shook his head and stared over the tall heads of the tomato plants and the climbing vines of beans, around which danced a spray of fireflies. They sparked and tumbled like a handful of stars that had been flung.
    â€œI remember coming here once, years ago, and watching Jacob and Katie chase the lightning bugs,” Ephram said. “Catching 'em in a jar.” He laughed. “Jacob said he was making an Amish flashlight. You hear from Jacob these days?”
    â€œNo, which is the way I wish it to be,” Aaron said quietly.
    Ephram shook his head. “He was banned from the church, Aaron. Not from your life.”
    â€œThey're the same to me.”
    â€œThat's the thing I don't understand, you know. Since forgiveness is the very first rule.”
    Aaron leveled his gaze on the bishop. “Did you come here to talk about Jacob?”
    â€œWell, no,” Ephram admitted. “After you dropped by this morning, Elam, I went to see John Zimmermann and Martin Lapp. It's their understanding that if the police were here all day, they must be thinking Katie's a suspect. It will all hinge for sure on whether the baby was born alive. If it was, she'll be blamed for its death.” He frowned at Aaron. “They suggested speaking to a lawyer, so that you won't get