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Deborah glanced at the store's entrance, half hoping for a visitor, for a reprieve from hearing the awful details of what had transpired.

But no one appeared. They were alone. “So you went to the Millers' farm angry.”

“
Jah.
And when I got there, I yelled at him.” His cheeks flushed. “I said some terrible things, Deborah, things I'll always regret. He yelled at me, too. Then, next thing I knew, we were pushing each other. Fighting.”

“Fighting?”

“Me and Perry had known each other all our lives, Deborah. Though neither your parents nor mine condoned violence, it doesn't mean we always listened. There were many times we wrestled when we were small. Anyway, one thing led to another, and I pushed Perry hard. He landed on the ground, his head hitting the stones of the well. He started bleeding.”

Her heart was racing. Everything inside her was fighting against Jacob's words, against the story. She hated hearing about her brother's last moments alive and that they were filled with so much pain.

In that moment, she knew she could have gone her whole life without hearing about Perry's last moments on this earth.

But to shield herself from the pain wouldn't make anything better or easier. Not now, and not in the long run.

It was important that she hear the rest of the story. She knew she needed to hear it in order to heal. Even if hearing it hurt. “And then?”

“And then he started yelling, and I, God forgive me, got scared. It was like something had all the sudden snapped inside of me, and I had finally opened my eyes to the person I had become. I was horrified, Deborah.”

“What did you do next?” she whispered.

“I ran. I left him there, bleeding.” Reaching out, he gripped her hand hard. “Deborah, I'm telling you everything because you need to know. Admitting what I did, how I behaved, what I was thinking—to you, of all people? Telling you is far more difficult than telling the police. But Deborah, please believe this: I didn't think he'd been mortally wounded. Never in a million years did I think he was hurt that badly. I thought after I left he'd get himself up and go home.”

She wasn't going to let him off that easily. “But he didn't.”

Jacob was still gripping her hand. His fingers were digging into her skin, keeping her next to him. His gaze was tortured and raw. There was no charm or covering up of the truth.

And that's when she knew that everything he'd told her was the truth.

“If you left him lying there . . . how did he end up in the well?”

“I'll tell you the same thing I told Sheriff Kramer. I don't know.”

“But weren't you concerned? I mean, didn't you worry when you never saw him again? When me and my parents told everyone how he'd gone missing?”

“If he'd died after I left him there, wouldn't someone have found his body? It never occurred to me that he'd passed away. Deb, I thought he'd finally left town.”

“Truly?”

“Absolutely. I was so full of myself, Deborah, that I had thought I'd scared him enough that he had listened to me and left. That he went to St. Louis or wherever and starting living with the English. I thought he'd jumped the fence and never looked back.”

“I had thought he'd moved away, too,” she admitted. She'd been so hurt, so upset that he could leave her without a goodbye . . .

“But Jacob, what do you think happened to Perry after you left?”

“I don't know.” Finally his death grip on her hand eased. “I promise you, I have no idea what happened. It was as big of news to me as to anyone when I heard his body had been found.”

Remembering the day Sheriff Kramer had delivered the news, Deborah shuddered. “My parents could hardly believe it. I was shocked, too.” She'd also felt so incredibly guilty. Here she'd been so sure that Perry hadn't been a good enough brother to her . . . when she hadn't even questioned where he'd gone.

She'd never even attempted to look for him.

“The day I heard, I thought that maybe I actually had killed him. It wasn't until I heard that he'd been found in the well that I knew it couldn't have been our fight. But I was still upset. So upset that my parents sent me to Lexington for a horse auction.”

“I went to Charm. My parents didn't want me around during the investigation. They thought it would be too hard for me to take, I guess.”

“But we had to deal with it anyway, didn't we? The Lord wasn't going to let us run away.”

“Yes, we did.” Her heart warred with the heartbreaking facts of his story, and her feelings for him. Deborah didn't know what to do, or what to say.

But though she knew it might take a long time to understand what had led Jacob to resort to violence, she realized one truth—Jacob Schrock had not set out to kill Perry.

That was not who he was.

“Deborah, listen. I don't know if you'll ever be able to forgive me. Maybe even hoping you will is too much for me to ask. But please know that I am sorry. I am sorry I hurt your brother. I'm sorry I didn't tell everyone about his injury. I'm sorry I kept the fight a secret. And I'm sorry I was mean to you when I returned. It might not mean much, but I promise . . . I will regret my actions until the day I die.”

Could she forgive him?

Then, she realized . . . how could she not?

Forgiveness was a cornerstone to their community. Acceptance of others, even if they weren't perfect, was something she'd been taught since she was a young girl. If she refused to forgive Jacob, it would be as if she was turning her back on everything that was good and special about her community.

If she refused, she'd be no better than her parents. And their refusal to forgive was damaging them both.

“I'll do my best to forgive you,” she said. She felt almost as if the Lord was right by her side, coaxing her on, offering the words to say when she hardly knew what to think. “Though, I'm not sure if I'm even the person you should seek forgiveness from . . . I promise, I'll do my best.”

Tears dampened his eyes. He blinked twice. Then, as if he was unable to help himself any longer, he reached for her and hugged her. His arms around her felt like everything she'd ever needed. A hug from her brother. Support from her friend. A touch, letting her know that she wasn't alone.

And, God help her . . . being in Jacob's arms felt right. She lifted her chin to look at him.

He was staring at her with love. With a tenderness that left no doubt of how he felt about her.

“Deb,” he murmured. Lowering his mouth, he kissed her carefully, as if she was so fragile, she could break in his arms. She could feel her resistance melting. Felt desire spring forward again.

After all, this was the man she'd always loved.

Then the store's front door opened, breaking them apart.

“Deborah?” Her father stood at the open door, a look of shock and betrayal on his face. “How can you be standing here, hugging Jacob?” her father called out. “He killed your brother.”

Once again, Deborah felt her insides twist up into knots. As everything seemed to spiral out of control.

Chapter 20

“We all make mistakes, to be sure. However, some mistakes cannot ever be fixed. They merely bring forth pain. Forever and ever. It's a terrible shame, that.”

A
ARON
S
CHROCK

J
acob quickly stepped away from her side, but the damage had already been done. He'd forgotten where they were, had forgotten how vulnerable she was, and had kissed Deborah right in the middle of the store.

And her parents had seen it all. By the looks of her father's thunderous expression, Jacob knew he would never be forgiven. At that moment, Jacob wasn't sure if he even should be.

Beside him, Deborah looked shaken and a little embarrassed. But she looked far more composed than he felt. “Daed, what are you doing here?”

Before her father answered, her mother appeared behind him. “Sheriff Kramer came by the house last night, Deborah.” With a wary glance in his direction, she added, “He told us about Jacob. Since you were with Frannie last night, we knew you wouldn't have heard. We came here to tell you the news.”

Deborah blushed. Her parents had no idea that she had a cell phone.

“Jacob, my question is why you are out of jail,” Mr. Borntrager said, his voice full of menace. “They should have never let you around decent people.”

Jacob felt like his throat was so filled with a lump, he doubted he was going to be able to swallow much longer. But he didn't dare to defend himself. What could he say to Perry's parents that could possibly ease their pain?

“Daed, you mustn't say such things,” Deborah said. “Jacob is innocent.”

“No, daughter. He is far from that.”

“If you talked to the sheriff, then you know what happened with Perry and Jacob was an accident. We mustn't blame him.”

“I know no such thing.” Turning to Jacob, Mr. Borntrager glared. “You killed my son, and have been lying about it all this time.”

“That is not what happened!” Deborah said fiercely.

Jacob was stunned. Never would he have imagined that she would be defending him, and especially not to her parents. The only way he could imagine dealing with this situation was to let them have their say. Therefore, he bit his lip and stood still. Completely prepared to take whatever vitriolic words were flung his way.

“Deborah, come with us now,” her mother said quietly. “You need to quit this job and never come back. We'll shop somewhere else.”

But instead of letting her mother coax her outside, Deborah stood her ground. “That's not fair, Mamm.”

“It's not fair that Jacob killed your brother,” Mr. Borntrager said. “Worse, you are demeaning his loss by hugging his murderer. You've shamed us. Never have we been so ashamed of a child.”

“Never before?” she whispered. “Never before have you been so ashamed?” Deborah's eyes filled with tears.

Jacob couldn't blame her. For them to be forgetting how much Perry had shamed them all? It was almost unforgiveable.

Unable to keep silent any longer, Jacob stepped forward. “Don't blame Deborah. The hug you saw, it wasn't her doing, it was mine. I hugged her.”

“That's not true,” Deborah whispered.

“I asked to her stay here and talk to me. And I kissed her without asking her permission,” Jacob said quickly. Almost standing in front of her so that he could shield her from the terrible looks her father was shooting their way.

But if Jacob had imagined his words would make things easier, he was mistaken.

Looking even angrier, Mr. Borntrager folded his arms tightly across his chest and raised his voice. “Well, of course Deborah being here is your fault. All of it is your fault. You've ruined our family, you murdered my son. You've lied to us for months, concealing your part in my son's death. And now you're attacking my daughter.”

Jacob knew that Mr. Borntrager wasn't speaking the truth. It was at best exaggerated and at worst flat-out lies. But what did it really matter? His future was doomed because no one but Deborah seemed to care that he had no intent to kill Perry and had no idea who had hidden his body.

So he kept quiet, choosing to let her parents yell at him. At least then they would ease up on their daughter.

But Deborah pushed her way past him, standing in front of her parents, looking as brave as he'd ever seen anyone look. “Father, you must stop saying such things.”

“I've held my tongue all this time. No longer.”

“But you're wrong. Daed, my hugging Jacob wasn't like you are describing. We were merely—”

“I don't want to hear another word.”

“But I think we should talk about this!” Her expression crushed, she turned to her mother. “Mamm, don't you think we need to face the truth now? Don't you think you need to hear Jacob's side of the story?”

“My Perry is gone, Deborah. That is all I need to know.”

“Nee!”

Reaching out, her father grabbed Deborah's arm. “Daughter, I've never laid a hand on you, but if you don't stop, you will leave me with no choice. We will leave now. And you will not say another word to Jacob Schrock ever again. Furthermore, we will never step foot in this store again. It's done nothing but bring shame and pain into our lives.”

Tears now fell down her face. “It wasn't the store that hurt us, Father,” she said quietly.

Looking at the three of them, Jacob knew there was nothing he could do. Her father was right. He'd done terrible things, and they should feel nothing but scorn for him.

“You should leave, Deborah,” he murmured. “It's okay.”

She shook her head. “But this isn't okay. You aren't like that. We aren't like that . . .”

“Deborah!” her father thundered. “You will obey me now.”

“Go, Deb. It's okay. Everything's going to be all right,” he said.

Tears now running down her face, apology bright in her eyes, Deborah said, “I'm so sorry, Jacob.”

“I understand. I promise, I understand.” He did understand, and he almost welcomed the pain of her family's rejection. It was no more than he deserved.

Without another word, Mr. Borntrager ushered his wife and daughter out of the store. Jacob stood stoically as he watched them walk down the front steps and down the sidewalk. Deborah's father was grim-faced as he led the way, his steps proud, his gait fast. Mrs. Borntrager followed, her face tilted toward the ground, her back hunched as if she was in pain.

And slowly following was Deborah. Her chin was up, her posture was straight. As if to all the world she had nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to answer for.

It was only when he saw her swipe her face with the side of her hand that he realized she was still crying.

When they were out of sight, he glanced around the store, amazed at the silence. His family's store was rarely silent. Usually his father's voice echoed down the aisles, or his mother's gentle coaxing floated from the back storage room.

More often than not, the store was bustling with customers. Tourists, too.

And of course, the animals made their own noise. They chattered or buzzed or barked or chirped. But this morning, there was nothing. Only him and two kittens who always seemed to prefer their own company to his.

Standing in front of their cage, he watched them snuggle. They were wrapped around each other, curved so tightly that at first glance they looked like one. In slumber, their calico fur blended together, and their soft purring was as gently infectious as almost anything he'd ever heard.

Showing him that some things were meant to be a pair. Just like he and Deborah.

“Well, cats, I guess it's just you and me. For a time, at least.” Until the trial and a jury convicted him of his crimes.

Once in prison, he'd be living in a cage of his own, always at the mercy of people who were free.

Thinking about his future that way, Jacob knew he fostered many regrets. He wished he'd been a better son. Often, a better friend.

But more than any of that, he wished he'd treated Deborah better. He wished he'd seen her as more than Perry's little sister when they were younger. He wished he'd seen her as more than just a girl of his acquaintance during that short period of singings and courtship.

But most of all, he wished he'd never taken out his anger on her. He'd been wrong to see her as only a reminder of his faults. And then, when he'd finally realized how wrong he'd been, he wished he'd taken the time to let her know how much she meant to him.

Now, all he could do was prepare for his new future. The best thing for them both was for him to keep his distance, and to make sure she kept it, too. It wouldn't do for her to risk her parents' wrath. Or to risk facing others' disapproval.

Yes, certainly the best thing for him to do would be to keep to himself.

Because he'd finally realized that it didn't really matter what the future had in store for him. No matter what happened, there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

After all, no matter how much a man might wish to change the past, there was one thing they could all count on: You could never go back. What was done was done.