The Amish Clockmaker Read Online Free PDF Page B

soft by generations of running, skipping, and playing. What did some silly rumor from the past have to do with anything now? Those twin brothers may have thought of Clayton Raber as a murderer, but to me he’d always just been the guy who grew up in the bedroom that had eventually become mine.
    And I loved that room, especially when my older brother moved out and I had it all to myself. My favorite part was the window seat, where I used to sit and read for hours as a boy, just as Clayton Raber had probably done years before when it had been his room. A wide strip of molding ran vertically along the wall beside the window seat, and I used to gaze at it often, at the markings that covered the length of it.
    The reason it held such fascination for me was because those markings charted Clayton’s height as he’d grown. Someone had measured him at various ages and sliced little horizontal lines into the wood. Beside each one—which started at about four feet high and ran all the way up to nearly six feet—was a date and his initials.
    Though the dates had all been carved by the same feminine hand, it seemed as if Clayton had added in the initials himself. Down low, the first few CR s were childish looking and barely legible, but each one became less so as he worked his way up the wall through time. When he measured in at about the height of an eight or nine year old boy, his letters had become for the most part neat and straight. By the time he’d reached his full height, they were downright elegant, carved by the hand of a teenager who was on his way to becoming a clockmaker and talented woodworker.
    For some reason, the sight of those measurements and dates and initials on that strip of molding had always pleased me, though I was never sure why. I supposed it made me feel connected somehow to the house, and to the boy who had once lived there. Learning those new facts from the neighborhood children about Clayton’s wife and the murder charge and everything had not changed my feelings about my room nor repelled me from my home—quite the opposite, in fact. In bed that night, I didn’t lie there thinking about murder or death or jail or any of that stuff. Instead, I trained my eyes on the beautifully carved initials near the top of that growth chart and told myself that if the police let the guy go, then he must have been innocent and that was that.
    I hadn’t thought about Clayton in years, but now my life was once againintersecting with his in a new way. Whatever happened from here, I told myself as we neared the group waiting for us on the lawn, I could only pray it wouldn’t hinder any more of my carefully laid plans for the expansion.
    Everyone’s eyes were wide with curiosity as we drew close. Not wanting to broadcast to the whole group what we’d learned, I pulled Virgil aside and told him we had a problem with the paperwork and I would have to see a lawyer before we could keep going with the construction.
    â€œSend the workers home for today,” I added. “I imagine we’ll be able to start back first thing tomorrow morning, but I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I know for sure.”
    â€œOkay,” Virgil replied with a worried frown. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
    We returned to the crew, and I thanked them for their work thus far and apologized for the mix-up. Virgil took it from there, addressing the men as Amanda and I went inside, my mind spinning. I was embarrassed to have to send these guys home so soon, and more than a little frustrated. How was I going to get my business up and running again with a delay like this? If the foundation wasn’t poured today, then it would be like dominoes tumbling down the line, ruining the project’s entire time frame. My window of opportunity with the work crew would be gone and I would lose them to other jobs. Once that happened, who knew how long it would be before we were