Peace (18 page)

“Merry Christmas, Daed,” he whispered.

“Merry Christmas to you,” his
daed
muttered right back.

When they broke apart, his father turned to Deborah and lightly hugged her, too. Jacob noticed that she was far more contained than either of them. But she, too, seemed to be holding back tears.

After they broke apart, the three of them looked at one another. Awkwardness and worry settled in again as they stood there together.

“We, ah, got us a table and chairs, Daed,” Jacob said weakly.

“Ah.
Jah
. Yes, let's sit down.”

Awkwardly, they sat down and stared at each other. Aaron's eyes watered a bit and he brushed off the tears with his right hand.

Now that they were together at last, Jacob had no idea what to say. As he weighed and rejected possible topics, Deborah smiled sweetly.

“Aaron, would you like to hear about the store?”

A spark of life entered his gaze. “Of course. How goes it?”

That was something Jacob could talk about. That was what they had between them, what they'd always had in common. Memories of being a little boy next to his
daed
filled him again. Over the years, no matter what else had been going on in their lives, there had always been one thing that united them: the store.

It was their lifeline. Their bond. No matter what else they had or didn't have, they would always have that.

And suddenly, nothing seemed hard at all.

“Well, believe it or not, I was actually thinking about bringing some animals in to sell,” he said.

As he'd hoped, a small smile played along his father's lips. “Is that right? What kind of animal were you thinking of?”

“I don't know.” Quickly, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Ferrets?”

“Ferrets? Now that's an animal to consider. Ain't so?”

And so the conversation had begun. For the next few minutes, they discussed the pros and cons of ferrets, his father becoming more animated by the second.

So much so, Jacob knew if he closed his eyes, ignored the smell of antiseptic and men and smoke, he could be back in Crittenden County. At their store.

Before everything that they'd known had disappeared.

Chris felt his neck flush as Beth waited for his reply. He hated feeling so awkward and gauche. Hated feeling like he was a kid again, trying to ask his first girlfriend to the middle-school dance.

As he looked into her eyes, he was tempted to evade her question. Or worse, lie.

But he couldn't do that. Not to someone who had taken him in, given him shelter, and patched his wounds.

But most important, he couldn't do it to Beth. She was far too special to him to lie to. Far too important to him now to evade.

Feeling like he was free-falling, he said what he knew he shouldn't say. “I've fallen in love with you, Beth.”

She looked jarred. “Truly?”

Her dismay, which so matched his own, made the conversation almost bearable. “You know I wouldn't make that up. You're special to me, Beth. I like how you're so much tougher and stronger than everyone thinks. I like how you keep trying even when you're not sure. I like how you can't cook anything edible but you keep trying. But most of all, I like how you have made a man like me feel as if there's something more to me than my faults. All that equals love, I guess.”

She shook her head. “I'm nothing special.”

“No, you're everything special. You're special enough that I'm willing to tell you all this, even if it means embarrassing myself, or worse, embarrassing you.”

“I'm not embarrassed.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like the luckiest woman in the world.”

He was torn between pulling her into his arms and running away from her just as fast as his feet could take him. He settled for reaching for her hand.

“Well?” he asked. “Are you going to tell me what you're thinking?”

“I don't know if I'm that brave.”

“Why don't you just try?”

“I've fallen in love with you, too, Chris,” she said at last. “For better or worse, that's how I feel about you.”

Her words had to be the best Christmas present he'd ever received.

And the scariest.

As if she'd read his mind, she looked at him solemnly. “What do we do now?”

He wished he knew what to say.

But what could he say? “Nothing. There's nothing we can do.”

Instead of regret, pure amusement lit her eyes. “That doesn't make me feel any better.”

“Maybe we should take things one day at a time. One moment at a time.”

“And only think about today?”

“If you're willing to give that a try, I am, too. I'm here with you on Christmas Day. And even though I don't have any red roses or candy to give you, I want you to know that you still mean the world to me.”

“I don't need any roses. And as for the candy? Well, I'm thinking about making some.”

He stepped to the counter. “If I help you, your fudge might even turn out.”

“There's always a first time,” she teased with a smile.

Yes there was. This was the first time he'd had a sweetheart on Christmas Day. This was the first time in years that he'd felt content.

This was the first time he'd ever been in love.

Reaching out, he grasped her hands. “I don't mind that it's the first time at all,” he murmured, talking about so much more than candy. “Sometimes it's the best.”

Beth smiled. “I would agree,” she said softly. “I would agree wholeheartedly.”

Chapter 19

One Christmas Eve years ago, Perry and I stayed up until midnight. Hiding out under the covers in his room, we counted the moments until Christmas. It was a
wonderful-gut
night. One of best.

D
EBORAH
S
CHROCK

“Ten more minutes,” the guard intoned to the room at large. “Wrap things up.”

Jacob winced. “This visit has gone by so fast. I wish we had more time.”

“It's been so good to see you,” Deborah said.

Aaron's gaze wavered and it looked as if he was attempting to retain his composure. “I feel the same way, Deborah. It means a lot to me that you came with Jacob.”

“He means a lot to me.” She smiled at Jacob.

Inwardly, Jacob shook his head. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten so blessed to have Deborah as his wife, but he knew he'd be giving thanks for her yet again in his prayers that evening.

“Five minutes.”

Jacob scowled at the guard. “He is certainly forceful.”

His father chuckled under his breath. “That's their job, I think.” Then he shrugged one shoulder. It was a vintage movement that Jacob had seen him do a hundred times—and one he had missed recently. “Don't fret though, Jacob. I'm used to being told what to do.”

The words made Jacob feel even worse about things. Though he'd disagreed with what his father had done, he couldn't help but hate that his father had to live in this way. In most ways, he was a gentle man. It had to be very difficult to constantly be watched and told what to do in such a harsh manner.

Around them, people were hugging and saying good-bye to each other. Jacob knew it was time to do the same but he couldn't quite bring himself to do that yet.

As if he read his mind, his father stood up. “It's time to say good-bye.”

“I wish we could be here longer.”

“We can't always get what we wish for. But that's okay, you know. I heard that there are several other groups of folks trying to see each other today. It's only right to give them their chance.”

The couple behind them separated, the woman leaving in a flurry of tears. The inmate she left behind looked to be on the verge of tears himself. He was now standing near the exit with a haunted, resigned look on his face.

His father's eyes looked just as desolate.

“Daed, what will you do now?”

His father looked taken aback. “I'll go to my cell, of course.”

“Is it terrible, living there?” The moment he asked the question he ached to take it back. What was his father supposed to say? That he liked living in such a place?

“Living here?” He paused, then nodded. “
Jah
. It is bad. But it ain't bad every minute of every day. Luckily, my cell mate is a decent sort. Some ain't got that.”

“What's his name?”

Again his father looked at him strangely. “Chuck,” he said at last. “He's a big man, and African American, too. And younger. Only twenty-three.”

“You're very different.”

“We are. He's had a hard life. Sometimes when we talk, I realize that I've had many things to be thankful for that he could only dream about.” He paused, then added as an afterthought, “He likes hearing about the Amish.”

“I'm glad he is nice to you. I hope your days don't go too slowly.”

“Son, you haven't been reading my letters, have you?”

Too ashamed to meet his father's gaze, he tucked his chin.
“Nee.”

“Ah.”

There it was. No recriminations. No guilt. No hurt words.

Which made Jacob feel all the worse. “I saved them, though. And I'm going to read them all when I get home.”

“Will ya now?” His father paused, then added, “If you do that, you'll find out much about life here. You might find it interesting. Now that you've stepped inside, I mean.”

“I should have read them before. I don't have a good excuse, Daed.”

“I think you just might.” He pursed his lips. “Please don't worry so. Everything will be all right. One way or another, we'll all survive. One must make peace with one's life. Ain't so?”

“Line up,” the guard ordered.

Now there was only time to quickly hug and join the other people exiting through the door they'd entered. Jacob barely had the chance to do anything more than glance at his father one last time before the heavy steel door slammed shut behind them, effectively putting the emotional visit firmly in the past.

As they were shuttled through yet another metal detector and inspected, Jacob stood silent, barely aware of Deborah's presence beside him.

Ten minutes later, they were near a pay phone. Without a word, he crossed to it, entered the coins and dialed Mose's number.

“You done, Jacob?” he asked.

“Jah.”

“I'll be right over. Take the shuttle to the parking lot. I should be there by the time you get there.”

“
Danke
,” he said softly. After he hung up, he turned to Deborah. “Let's get our coats and your purse. Mose will pick us up soon.”

She nodded and followed him to the locker they'd been assigned.

Only after they'd taken the short ride to the parking lot did she speak. “Are you sorry we came, Jacob?”

“
Nee
. I'm only sorry I've been such a fool.”

“You haven't been—”

“No, I have been,” he said quickly, cutting off her words. “Deborah, my father made a terrible mistake in a span of fifteen minutes. But I've been nursing my pain and disillusionment for months now. I've acted like a child. My behavior, it has shamed me.”

She gazed at him softly. Then, to Jacob's surprise, she merely took his hand and squeezed it, just as they saw Mose pull up in his shiny silver truck.

“You aren't going to say anything?” he asked, wanting to get the worst of her recriminations over before they joined Mose.

She smiled in a bittersweet way. “Let's go home.”

Yet again he was in awe of his wife. She'd said exactly the right thing at exactly the right time. Going home, back to where everything was familiar and comfortable and peaceful, that was what his heart needed.

The day's visit had been nerve-racking and hard. But in a strange, surprising way, it had been good, too. Here, in a concrete building filled with a thousand lost souls, he'd found his father once again.

Chris had just brought in more firewood when the front doorbell rang.

Wary, Beth turned to Chris. She was getting used to following his directions when visitors came, but it didn't make it any easier. “Do you want me to hide again?”

His expression looked grim and more than a little confused. “You know, I don't think so. Stay here while I go see who it is, though. Just to be safe.”

Wrapping her arms over her chest, she nodded, standing still as she watched him cross through the kitchen, then approach the door.

She pursed her lips, trying to remember if he had his gun. What if he didn't? Her mind spun as she heard him gasp.

“Beth? Beth, come here!” he called out as he unlocked the door and opened it.

Without a second's hesitation, she rushed to the front. Half curious as to who would have come, half incredulous at how completely dumbfounded Chris sounded. Who would make him like that?