Shamed (Kate Burkholder #11)(40)
“I trusted in the wisdom and goodness of the bishop. I had faith that the Lord would see us through the darkness we were facing. You have to understand, Katie, it was a troubling time and there was uncertainty. Grief, even. And fear. None of the decisions made were entered into lightly or without a great deal of thought.”
“Who else was involved?” I ask.
“The midwife.”
“What’s her name?”
“I do not know.”
“Noah Schwartz brought you the baby?”
The old man nods. “Two days later. Noah and the midwife brought the girl child. We took her to Miriam and Ivan late in the night. We prayed. And it was done.”
“Who are the parents?” I ask. “What are their names?”
“I do not know.”
“Where did the baby come from? What town?”
“Scioto County. That’s all I know.”
I write it down. Scioto County is in the southern part of Ohio. In the back of my mind, I recall Martha Hershberger telling me that Mary Yoder’s sister, Marlene, was from “down south somewhere.”
“Do you know Mary Yoder’s sister, Marlene?” I ask.
The bishop shakes his head. “No.”
“Have you ever heard the name?”
Another shake.
Even as I ask the questions, I struggle to make sense of everything I’ve been told. “Why did Bishop Schwartz take the baby? Was the mother sick? Injured? Dying? Why did he become involved at all?”
“I did not ask,” he tells me. “All I can tell you is that Noah Schwartz did this thing in the name of the Lord and the church.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding a hard tattoo against my ribs. I don’t want to believe the story I’ve been told. That two Amish bishops participated in what is at best an illegal adoption. At worst, a kidnapping. But in my heart of hearts, I know it’s the truth, however questionable. While Bishop Troyer is not above manipulation in the name of the Ordnung, he is not a liar.
“Where do I find Bishop Schwartz?” I ask.
“I heard Noah passed a couple of weeks ago.”
Disappointment tings in my chest. “What about the midwife?”
“I do not know.”
“Where are they from?”
“Most of the Amish live in Crooked Creek, I think. A few hours south. Down by the river. I’d met Noah once or twice over the years. Scioto County is not part of our church district, but they are in full fellowship with us here in Holmes County. They are of the same affiliation.”
“Who else knows about this?” I ask.
“Just the bishop and me. The midwife. Miriam and Ivan. That is all.”
“What about Mary Yoder?”
“I can’t say for certain, but I think she knew. Noah mentioned speaking to her, but he didn’t go into detail. In all these years, Mary and I have never spoken of it.”
I close the notebook and give him a hard stare. “Is it possible someone else knows about what happened?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“What about the parents of the baby? Do they know what happened? Do they know where the baby was taken? Who took her in?”
“I do not know.”
“Does your wife know?”
“She was here that night, of course. As the wife of a bishop, she does not question.”
“Bishop, I believe Elsie Helmuth may have been taken by someone who knew about or found out about what happened all those years ago. Her birth parents. A relative. An older sibling. Someone who wanted her back.”
“I don’t see how, Katie. Bringing that baby here to Painters Mill, it was a solemn and private thing. Done in the night, under cover of darkness. We were careful. It was never spoken of again.”
“Someone spoke of it.”
He stares at me, silent.
I set my hands on my hips and sigh. “Bishop, you can’t just take a baby from one family and give it to another one. Even if your intentions were honorable and you think it’s the right thing to do.”
“You come here tonight to question our ways? You of all people?”
I don’t respond to the jab, but I feel it in a place I thought was immune. “This isn’t about me. It’s about finding that girl.”
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
I shake my head and sigh. “You likely broke the law. What am I supposed to do with that?”
“It was done in the eyes of the Lord. His law is above man’s law. You know this, Katie. Or have you strayed so far from your roots that you no longer believe?” He says the words in a voice like iron. “If what we did is against some English law then so be it.”
* * *
… the child had no one. She needed a family. Parents. A safe place.
We took her to Miriam and Ivan late in the night. We prayed. And it was done.
If I hadn’t heard the words directly from Bishop Troyer, I never would believe he was capable of something so outrageous and reckless.
I drive back to the station in a state of shock, my conversations with Miriam Helmuth and Bishop Troyer replaying in my head like some tragic song. By the time I park and head inside, I’ve come up with a loose plan.
I find Mona, still in uniform, sitting at the reception desk, listening to the radio, surfing the internet.