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Book 7: Plain Truth

The Publisher: Pocket Books, 1999; paperback version printed by Pocket Books, 2001.

• A short synopsis
• What others are saying…
• Book club discussion questions
• Read an excerpt

Synopsis

Moving seamlessly from psychological drama to courtroom suspense, Plain Truth is a fascinating portrait of Amish life rarely witnessed by those outside the faith. When a young Amish teen hides a pregnancy, gives birth in secret, and then flatly denies it all when the baby's body is found, urban defense attorney Ellie Hathaway decides to defend her. But she finds herself caught in a clash of cultures with a people whose channels of justice are markedly different from her own… and discovers a place where circumstances are not always what they seem.

What others are saying about Plain Truth …

A Booksense 76 Pick.

A featured selection of the Literary Guild.

"A Witness-meets-Agnes of God courtroom thriller… both absorbing and affecting."

—Entertainment Weekly

"Appealing, suspenseful… Reads like a cross between the Harrison Ford movie Witness and Scott Turow's novel Presumed Innocent, with a dose of television's The Practice thrown in to spice up the legal dilemmas."

—Arizona Republic

"Enter attorney Ellie Hathaway —a woman with her own emotional scars—who finds herself defending Katie on the charge of first degree murder, living on an Amish dairy farm, and discovering truths about herself as well as her client."

Book club discussion questions for Plain Truth

1. What character has the most to learn during the course of this novel? Why?
2. In what ways does immersing herself in Amish culture alter Ellie's perception of the case? Of Katie?
3. Does the American legal system have the right to govern a group that lives separate from American society?
4. To what extent is Katie responsible for what happens to the infant?
5. What role does Hannah's ghost play in forming Katie's actions? Sarah's?
6. Jacob Fisher and Leda are two characters who bridge diverse worlds in this novel. Are they successful? Explain.
7. Do the actions of the men in this book aid or detract from the growth of the female characters? Explain.
8. Was Aaron Fisher justified in cutting Jacob out of the family?
9. The Amish base much on the concept of Gelassenheit, or humility, and putting others before yourself. What examples support this? In what places in the book does this not happen, and how does it affect the society?
10. Forgiveness is a basic tenet in the Amish faith. Which Amish character in this book forgives the most? Who is the most unyielding?
11. What about the Amish culture is similar to “English” culture? What is the most different?
12. Is the verdict a fair one, in your opinion?
13. Why would an Amish person accept a punishment without having committed a crime?
14. What do you think would have happened if the baby had lived?
15. In your opinion, what occurs after the last page is turned-- to the Fishers, to Katie, to Ellie?
16. What do you think Ellie will do with the information she learns from Sarah at the end of the book?
17. Why do we care so much about Katie Fisher? How does her specific situation come to touch upon universal issues like community estrangement and forbidden love?
18. What kind of a man is Aaron Fisher? As you were reading, what were your reactions to his choices? If you had to, could you make a case for defending his code of life, his propensity to put the community above the individual?
19. "You know how a mother would do anything, if it meant saving her child,"Sarah tells Ellie. And earlier on, referring to her ability to butcher chickens with remorse, Sarah says to Ellie, "I do what I have to do. You of all people should understand."What is Picoult up to here? Why should Ellie in particular understand this?
20. "We all have things that come back to haunt us,"Adam Sinclair tells Katie at one point. "Some of us just see them more clearly than others."Discuss the ways in which the ghosts of the past come to haunt the present action in PLAIN TRUTH. Of all the book's characters, who comes to "see"things most clearly? Ellie? Jacob? Sarah? Explain.
21. What kind of future do you see for Ellie and Coop? For Katie and Samuel? Jacob and his Plain heritage?
22. Discuss the significance behind the title. Is "Plain Truth"a different sort of truth than "plain truth"?

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An excerpt from Plain Truth

She had often dreamed of her little sister floating dead
beneath the surface of the ice, but tonight, for the first
time, she envisioned Hannah clawing to get out. She could
see Hannah's eyes, wide and milky; could feel Hannah's nails
scraping. Then, with a start, she woke. It was not winter--
it was July. There was no ice beneath her palms, just her
own slick skin. But once again, there was someone on the
other side, fighting to be free. 
      As the fist in her belly pulled tighter, she bit her
bottom lip. Ignoring the pain that rippled and receded, she
tiptoed barefoot into the night.
      The barn cat yowled when she stepped inside. She was
panting by now, her legs shaking like willow twigs. Lowering
herself to the hay in the far corner of the calving pen, she
drew up her knees. The swollen cows rolled their blue moon
eyes in her direction, then turned away quickly, as if they
knew better than to bear witness. 
      She concentrated on the hides of the Holsteins until
their black spots shimmied and swam. She sank her teeth into
the rolled hem of her nightgown. There was a funnel of
pressure, as if she was being turned inside out; and she
remembered how she and Hannah used to squeeze through the
hole in the barbed wire fence by the creek's edge, pushing
and angled, all knees and grunts and elbows, until by some
miracle they'd tumble through. It was over as suddenly as it
had begun. And lying on the matted, stained hay between her
legs was a baby. 
·   ·   ·   ·   ·   ·
      Aaron Fisher rolled over beneath the bright quilt to
stare at the clock beside the bed. There had been nothing,
no sound to wake him, but after forty-five years of farming
and milking the smallest things could pull him out of sleep:
a footfall in the corn, a change in the pattern of the wind,
the rasp of a mother's tongue roughing a newborn calf.
      He felt the mattress give as Sarah came up on an elbow
behind him, the long braid of her hair curling over her
shoulder like a seaman's rope. "Was ist letz?"
What's the matter?
      It was not the animals; there was a full month before
the first cow was due to deliver. It was not a robber; there
was too little noise. He felt his wife's arm slip around
him, hugging his back to her front. "Nix,"he
murmured. Nothing. But he did not know if he was trying to
convince Sarah, or himself. 
·   ·   ·   ·   ·   ·
      She knew enough to cut the cord that spiraled purple
to the baby's belly. Hands shaking, she managed to reach the
old scissors that hung on a peg near the pen's door. They
were rusty and coated with bits of the twine from the hay
bales. The cord severed in two thick snips, and then began
spurting blood. Horrified, she pressed her fingers to the
ends, pinching it shut, wildly looking around for something
to tie it off. 
      She rummaged in the hay and came up with a small
length of baling twine, using it to make a quick knot. The
bleeding slowed, then stopped. Relieved, she sank back
against the hay-- and then the newborn started to cry. 
      She snatched the baby up and rocked it tightly. With
her foot, she kicked at the hay, trying to cover the blood
with a clean layer. The baby's mouth opened and closed on
the cotton of her nightgown, rooting. 
      She knew what the baby wanted, needed, but she
couldn't do it. It would make this real.
      So she gave the baby her pinky finger instead. She let
the small, powerful jaws suckle, while she did what she had
been taught to do in times of extreme stress; what she had
been doing for months now. "Lord,"she prayed,
"please make this go away."
·   ·   ·   ·   ·   ·
      The rustle of chains awakened her. It was still dark
out, but the dairy cows' internal schedule had them rising
at their individual stalls, their bags hanging blue-veined
and round with milk, like full moons caught between their
legs. She was sore and tired, but knew she had to get out of
the barn before the men arrived to do the milking. Glancing
down, she realized that a miracle had come to pass: the
blood-soaked hay was fresh now; except for a small stain
beneath her own bottom. And the two things she'd been
holding when she fell asleep-- the scissors, and the
newborn-- were gone. 
      She pulled herself to her feet and glanced toward the
roof, awed and reverent. "Denke,"she whispered,
and then she ran out of the barn into the shadows. 
·   ·   ·   ·   ·   ·
      Like all other sixteen-year-old Amish boys, Levi Esh
no longer attended school. He'd gone through the eighth
grade, and was now in that limbo between being a child and
being old enough to be baptized into the Amish faith. In the
interim, he was a hired hand for Aaron Fisher, who everyone
knew no longer had a son to help him work his dairy farm.
Levi had gotten the job through the recommendation of his
older cousin Samuel, who'd been apprenticing with the
Fishers now for five years. And since everyone knew that
Samuel was probably going to marry the Fisher's daughter
soon and set up his own farm, it meant that Levi would be
getting a promotion.
      His workday started at 4 AM, as on all other dairy
farms. Still pitch dark, Levi could not see Samuel's buggy
approach, but he could hear the faint jingle of tack and
traces. He grabbed his flat-brimmed straw hat and ran out
the door, then jumped onto the seat beside Samuel.
      "Hi,"he said breathlessly.
      Samuel nodded at him but didn't turn, didn't speak.
      "What's the matter?"Levi teased.
"Katie wouldn't kiss you goodbye last night?"
      Samuel scowled and cuffed Levi, sending his hat
spinning into the back of the buggy. "Why don't you
just shut up?"The sun set the ragged edge of the
cornfield on fire as they drove on in silence. After a while
Samuel pulled on the reins and stopped the buggy in the
Fisher's front yard. Levi scuffed the toe of his boot into
the soft earth and waited for Samuel to put the horse out to
pasture; then they both walked into the barn.
      The lights used for milking were powered by a
generator, as were the vacuum pumps hooked up to the teats
of the cows. Aaron Fisher knelt beside one of the herd,
spraying the udders with iodine solution and then wiping
them dry with a page ripped from an old phone book.
"Samuel, Levi,"he greeted.
      He did not tell them what to do, because by now, they
already knew. Samuel maneuvered the wheelbarrow beneath a
silo, beginning to mix the feed. Levi picked up the shovel
and began to clean the manure in each cow's stall, looking
to Samuel all the time and wishing he already was the senior
farmhand.
      The barn door opened, and Aaron's father ambled in.
Elam Fisher lived in the grossdawdi haus, a small apartment
attached to the main building. Although Elam helped out with
the milking, Levi knew the unwritten rules: to make sure he
carried nothing heavy; to keep him from taxing himself; and
to make him believe that Aaron couldn't do without him,
although Aaron could have, any day of the week.
"Boys,"Elam boomed, then stopped in his tracks,
his nose wrinkled above his long, white beard. "Why,
we've had a calf."
      Aaron stood, puzzled. "No. I checked the
pen."
      The old man shook his head. "There's the smell of
it, all the same."
      "More like it's Levi, needing a bath,"
Samuel joked, emptying a fresh scoop of feed in front of the
first cow.
      As Samuel passed him with the wheelbarrow, Levi came
up swinging, and slipped on a slick of manure. He landed on
his bottom in the ditch built to catch the refuse and set
his jaw at Samuel's burst of laughter.
      "Come on now,"Aaron chided, although a grin
tugged at his mouth. "Samuel, leave him be. Levi, I
think Sarah left your spare clothes in the tack room."
      "Yes, sir."Levi scrambled to his feet, his
cheeks burning. He walked past Aaron, past the chalkboard
listing the notes on the cows that were due to have calves,
and turned into the small cubby that housed the blankets and
bridles used for the farm's workhorses. Like the rest of the
barn, it was neat as a pin. Braided leather reins crossed
the wall like spider webs, and shelves were stacked with
spare horseshoes and jars of liniment.
      Levi glanced about, but could see no clothing. Then he
noticed something bright in the pile of horse blankets.
Well, that would make sense. If Sarah Fisher had washed his
things, it had probably been done with the other laundry. He
lifted the heavy, striped blanket and recognized his spare
trousers and jewel-green shirt, rolled into a ball. Levi
stepped forward, intending to shake it out, and found
himself staring down into the tiny, still face of a newborn.
 ·   ·   ·   ·   ·   ·
      "Aaron!"Levi skidded to a stop, panting.
"Aaron, you've got to come."He ran toward the
tack room. Aaron exchanged a glance with his father, and
they both started after the boy, with Samuel trailing.
      Levi stood in front of a stool piled high with horse
blankets, on top of which rested a sleeping baby wrapped in
a boy's shirt. "I… I don't think it's breathing."
      Aaron stepped closer. It had been a long time since
he'd been around a baby this small. The soft skin of its
face was cold. He knelt and tipped his head, hoping that its
breath would fall into the cup of his ear. He flattened his
hand against its chest.
      Then he turned to Levi. "Run to the Schuylers and
ask to borrow their phone,"he said. "Call the
police."
·   ·   ·   ·   ·   ·
      "Get out,"Lizzie Munro said, laughing at
the officer-in-charge. "I'm not going to check an
unresponsive infant. Send a patrolman."
      "The patrolman's already there. He wants a
detective."
      Lizzie rolled her eyes. Every year that she'd been a
detective-sergeant with the East Paradise Township police,
and the new cops seemed to get younger. And more stupid.
"It's a medical call, Frank,"she told the
corporal.
      "Well, something's out of kilter down
there."The officer-in-charge handed her a slip of
paper with an address on it.
      "Fisher?"Lizzie read, frowning at the
surname and the street address. "They're Amish?"
      "Think so."
      Lizzie sighed and grabbed her big black purse and her
badge. "You know this is a waste of time."In the
past, Lizzie had occasionally dealt with Old Order Amish--
mostly teenagers, who'd gather together in some guy's barn
to drink and dance and generally disturb the peace. Once or
twice she'd been called to take a statement from an Amish
businessman who'd been burglarized. But for the most part,
the Amish had little contact with the police. Their
community existed unobtrusively within the regular world,
like a small air bubble impervious to the fluid around it.
      "Just take their statements and I'll make it up
to you."Frank held the door open for her as she left
her office. "I'll find a nice, fat felony for you to
sink your teeth into."
      "Don't do me any favors,"Lizzie said, but
she was grinning as she got into her car and headed to the
Fisher farm.
·   ·   ·   ·   ·   ·
      The Fisher's front yard was crowded with a squad car,
an ambulance, and a buggy. Lizzie walked up to the house and
knocked on the front door.
      No one answered, but a voice behind Lizzie called out
a greeting, the cadences of the woman's dialect softening
her consonants. A middle-aged Amish woman wearing a lavender
dress and a black apron hurried toward Lizzie. "I am
Sarah Fisher. Can I help you?"
      "I'm Detective-Sergeant Lizzie Munro."
      Sarah nodded solemnly and led Lizzie into the barn's
tack room, where two paramedics knelt over a baby. Lizzie
hunkered down beside one EMT. "What have you got?"
      "Newborn, emphasis on the new. No pulse or
respirations when we got here, and we haven't been able to
revive him. One of the farm workers found him wrapped up in
that green shirt, underneath a horse blanket. Can't tell if
it was stillborn or not, but someone was trying to hide the
body all the same. I think one of your guys is around by the
milking stalls, he might be able to tell you more."
      "Wait a second-- someone gave birth to this baby,
and then tried to conceal it?"
      "Yeah. About six hours ago,"the paramedic
murmured.
      Suddenly the simple medical response call was more
complicated than Lizzie had thought, and the most likely
suspect was standing three feet away. With curiosity, Lizzie
glanced up at Sarah Fisher, who wrapped her arms around
herself and shivered. "The baby… it's dead?"
      "I'm afraid so, Mrs. Fisher."
      Lizzie opened her mouth to ask another question, but
was distracted by the the distant sound of equipment being
moved about. "What's that?"
      "The men, finishing up the milking,"Sarah
said.
      Lizzie's brows shot up. "The milking?"
      "These things… "Sarah said quietly.
"They still have to be done."
      Suddenly, Lizzie felt profoundly sorry for the woman.
Life never stopped for death; she should know that better
than most. She gentled her voice and put her hand on Mrs.
Fisher's shoulder, not quite certain what sort of
psychological state the woman was in. "I know this must
be very difficult for you, but I'm going to have to ask you
some questions about your baby."
      Sarah Fisher raised her eyes to meet Lizzie's.
"It's not my baby,"she said. "I have no idea
where it came from."
·   ·   ·   ·   ·   ·
      A half-hour later, Lizzie leaned down beside the crime
scene photographer. "Stick to the barn. The Amish don't
like having their pictures taken."The man nodded,
shooting a roll around the tack room, with several close-ups
on the infant's corpse.
      At least now she understood why she'd been called
down. An unidentified dead infant, an unknown mother who'd
left it behind. And all this smack in the middle of an Amish
farm.
      She had interviewed the neighbors, a Lutheran couple
who swore that they'd never heard so much as raised voices
from their neighbors the Fishers, and who couldn't imagine
where the baby might have come from. They had two teenage
daughters, one of whom sported a nose and navel ring, who
had alibis for the previous night. But they agreed to
undergo gynecological exams, if necessary. Sarah Fisher, on
the other hand, had refused. Lizzie considered this as she
stood in the milk room, watching Aaron Fisher empty a small
hand tank of milk into a larger one. He was tall and dark,
with the ropy muscles developed by farming. His beard
brushed the second button of his shirt. As he finished, he
set down the tank and turned to give Lizzie his full
attention.
      "My wife was not pregnant, Detective,"Aaron
said.
      "You're certain?"
      "Sarah cannot have any more children. The doctors
made it that way, after she almost died giving birth to our
youngest."
      "Your other children, Mr. Fisher… where were
they when the baby was found?"
      A shadow passed over the man's face, gone as quickly
as Lizzie had marked it. "My daughter was asleep,
upstairs, at the time. My other child… is gone."
      "Gone, like down the road to her own home?"
      "Dead."
      "This daughter who was asleep is how old?"
      "Eighteen."
      At that, Lizzie glanced up. Neither Sarah Fisher nor
the paramedics had mentioned that there was another woman of
childbearing age who lived on the farm. "Is it possible
that she was pregnant, Mr. Fisher?"
      The man's face turned so red that Lizzie grew worried.
"She isn't even married.""It's not a
prerequisite, sir."
      Aaron Fisher stared at the detective coldly, clearly.
"It is for us."
 ·   ·   ·   ·   ·   ·
      It seemed to take forever to get through all forty
cows, and it had nothing to do with the arrival of a second
battalion of police officers. Samuel closed the pasture gate
after letting out the heifers and walked toward the main
house. He should go help Levi sweep out the barn one last
time for the morning, but this once it would wait.
      He didn't bother to knock. Just opened the door, as if
the home was already his, and the young woman inside at the
stove also belonged to him. He stopped for a moment,
watching the sun trace her profile and gild her honey hair,
her movements quick and efficient as she fixed breakfast.
      "Katie,"Samuel said, stepping inside.
      She turned quickly, the spoon flying up in the batter
bowl as she startled. "Oh, Samuel. I wasn't expecting
you yet."She peered around his shoulder, as if she
might see an army behind him. "Mam said I ought to make
enough for everyone."
      Samuel walked forward and took the bowl, setting it
onto the counter. He reached for her hands. "You don't
look so good."
      She smirked. "Thanks for the compliment."
      He drew her closer. "Are you okay?"
      Her eyes, when they met his, were the clear green of
the tobacco plants that grew thick and lush. They were what
had first attracted him to Katie, across a crowded church
service. They were what made him believe that, even years
from now, he would do anything for this one woman.
      She ducked away from him and began to flip the
pancakes. "You know me,"she said breathlessly.
"I get nervous around these Englischers."
      "Not so many,"Samuel said. "Only a
handful of policemen."He frowned at her back in
concern. "They may want to talk to you, though. They
seem to want to talk to everyone."
      She set the spatula down and turned slowly. "What
did they find out there?"
      "Your mother didn't tell you?"
      Katie slowly shook her head, and Samuel hesitated,
torn between her trust in him to tell her the truth, and the
desire to keep her blissfully unaware as long as possible.
He ran his hands through his straw-colored hair, making it
stand on end. "Well, they found a baby. Dead."
      He saw her eyes widen, those incredible eyes, and then
she sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs.
"Oh,"she whispered, stunned.
      In a moment, he was at her side, holding her close and
whispering that he would take her away from here, and to
heck with the police. He felt her soften against him, and
for a moment Samuel was triumphant-- after so many days of
being rebuffed, to finally come back to this. But then Katie
stiffened and drew away. "I don't think this is the
time,"she chided. She stood and turned off the stove's
gas burners, then folded her arms across her middle.
"Samuel, I think I would like you to take me
somewhere."
      "Anywhere,"he promised.
      "I want you to take me to see this baby."
·   ·   ·   ·   ·   ·
      "It's human blood,"the medical examiner
confirmed, kneeling in the calving pen in front of a small,
dark stain. "And human afterbirth. Someone had that
baby here less than five hours ago."
      "Stillborn?"Lizzie asked.
      He hesitated. "I can't say without doing the
autopsy… but my hunch says no."
      "So it just… died?"
      "I didn't say that, either."
      Lizzie sat back on her heels. "You're telling me
someone intentionally killed this baby?"
      The man shrugged. "I guess that's up to you to
find out."
      Lizzie calculated quickly in her mind. Given such a
small window between the baby's birth and death, chances
were that the perpetrator of the crime was the infant's
mother. "What are we talking? Strangulation?"
      "Smothering, more likely. I should have an
autopsy report within twenty-four hours."
      Lizzie thanked him and wandered away from the scene
the patrolmen were now securing. All of a sudden this was no
longer an abandonment case, but a potential homicide. There
was enough probable cause to get a warrant from a district
judge for blood samples; evidence that might point a finger
at the woman who had done this.
      She stopped walking as the barn door opened. A tall
blond man-- one of the farm help-- stepped into the dim
light with a young woman. He nodded at Lizzie. "This is
Katie Fisher."
      The girl was lovely, in that sturdy Germanic style
that always made Lizzie think of fresh cream and summertime.
She was also so nervous that Lizzie could nearly smell her
fear. "I'm glad you're here, Katie,"Lizzie said,
gentling her voice. "I've been looking for you, so that
I can ask you some questions."
      At that, the girl moved closer to the blond giant
beside her. "Katie was asleep last night,"he
said. "She didn't even know what had happened until I
told her."
      Lizzie tried to gauge the girl's response, but
something had distracted her. She was staring over Lizzie's
shoulder into the tack room, where the medical examiner was
supervising the removal of the baby's body.
      Suddenly the girl wrenched away from Samuel and ran
out the barn door, with Lizzie chasing her to the farmhouse
porch.
      As reactions to death went, this was a violent one.
Lizzie watched the girl trying to compose herself, and
wondered what had prompted it. Had this been any ordinary
teen, Lizzie would have taken such behavior as an indication
of guilt-- but Katie Fisher was Amish, which required her to
filter her thoughts. If you were Amish, you could grow up in
Lancaster County without TV news and true-crime movies,
without rape and wife-beating and murder. You could see a
dead baby and be honestly, horribly shocked by the sight.
      Then again, there had been cases in the news in recent
years; teenage mothers who'd hidden their pregnancies, and
after the birth, had tied up the loose ends by getting rid
of the newborn. Teenage mothers who were completely unaware
of what they'd done. Teenage mothers who came in all shapes,
all sizes, all religions.
      Katie leaned against a pillar and sobbed into her
hands. "I'm sorry,"the girl said. "Seeing
it-- the body-- it made me think of my sister."
      "The one who died?"
      Katie nodded. "She drowned when she was
seven."
      Lizzie stood beside her, looking onto the fields-- a
green sea that rippled with the wind. In the distance, one
of the horses whinnied, and another answered. She said
quietly, "Do you know what happens when you have a
baby?"
      Katie narrowed her eyes. "I live on a farm."
      "I know. But animals are different from women.
And if women do give birth, and don't get medical attention
afterward, they may be putting themselves in great
danger."Lizzie hesitated. "Katie, do you have
anything you want to tell me?"
      "I didn't have a baby,"Katie answered,
looking directly at the detective. "I didn't."But
Lizzie was staring at the porch floor. There was a small
maroon smudge on the painted white planks. And a slow
trickle of blood, running down Katie's bare leg.