Peace (5 page)

Imagining the worst, Beth peeked through the sheer white curtains, then felt silly when she saw it was only Lydia Plank staring back at her, a tote bag in hand.

Not wanting to reveal too much, Beth opened the door halfway. “Lydia, what are you doing here?”

“It is
verra
nice to see you, too,” she said with a bit of humor lighting her face.

While Beth warily stood sentry at the door, Lydia stomped one of her boots, making bits of ice and salt fly up. “It's pretty cold out here. Yesterday's sunshine has left us, and more snow is on the way. Are you going to let me come in?”

“Sure. Of course.” Reluctantly, she stepped back. “I didn't expect to see you.”

“I just happened to be nearby and wanted to check on you.”

“Why?” Her stomach knotted. Had she forgotten to wipe away some of Chris's blood on the sidewalk?

Lydia looked at her curiously. “Because I promised Frannie I would.” After sitting down in one of the chairs that surrounded the kitchen table, she said, “Beth, what in the world is going on with you? You seem nervous.”

“I have a new guest,” she blurted. “He's sleeping and I don't want to wake him up.”

“I could have sworn Frannie said she only needed you to house-sit.”

“Well, he's here. And he's asleep, so we must stay quiet.”

Lydia's brows rose. “I didn't realize we were being loud.”

Flushing, Beth realized that she did sound a bit paranoid. Oh, she was going to do a horrible job of keeping Chris's visit a secret!

“I'm kind of surprised you've got a guest here so close to Christmas.”

“It's not my place to question guests' behavior.”

If Lydia was taken aback, she didn't show it. “Frannie would say it's not your place to guess what your guests are doing in their rooms. But we can still wonder about them, right? I mean that's human nature.”

“Perhaps.”

“So, what's he like? Is he handsome?”

Feeling like a gnat caught in a spider's web, Beth shrugged.

Since her lies weren't working, she decided to be evasive. “Let's not talk about him. He doesn't matter. How is Walker?”

Luckily, Lydia let herself be sidetracked. She smiled sweetly. “Perfect. He's doing well on his Deutch, and enjoying life on the farm.” She leaned forward. “And guess what? The bishop has given us permission to marry at the end of January.”

“That's
wunderbaar
!” Beth knew just how many obstacles Walker and Lydia had gone through over the past year. Not only had they both been friends of Perry's, they'd both been suspects during his murder investigation. In addition, Walker was English, while Lydia was Amish. Even after they fell in love, neither knew if they were supposed to be together.

“I'm so excited, and so anxious to start my married life with him.”

“I bet. I can't wait to help you with the wedding.”

“
Danke
. I knew I could count on you.” Lydia stretched out her hands. “We've all been through so much, it's hard to grasp it all. I'm almost married to Walker; Frannie and Luke are married and are in Cincinnati for the holiday; and Deborah and Jacob are celebrating their first Christmas as a married couple.”

“Yes, much has changed,” Beth echoed, trying not to feel sorry for herself, since her life seemed exactly the same. She was alone, the only one in their close circle of friends without love in her life. “I haven't been to Schrock's lately. How are Deborah and Jacob?”

“Not so well.”

“They have a lot of burdens.”

“I think so. I'm not sure how they are going to get through everything. I mean, we were all surprised when they insisted on marrying despite her parents' protestations. . . .”

Beth nodded. Deborah and Jacob had had a difficult path, for sure. Not only did Jacob's father kill Deborah's brother, but Deborah's parents still blamed Jacob—and to some extent Deborah—for much of what had had happened to Perry. They were never able to see the faults in their firstborn son, despite the trouble he'd brought to the entire community.

“It's so sad. I heard that, despite it being Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Borntrager have been ignoring them both,” Lydia said.

Beth sat down next to her friend. “Though they didn't attend the wedding, I had thought their hurt and anger would have softened by now.”

“The last I heard, that isn't the case.”

Beth wished she had some idea of how to make her dear friends' lives easier, but she knew there was little she could say or do to make things better. Only their faith could help right now. “They're just going to have to rely on prayer.”

“You're right.” Reaching into the tote bag, Lydia pulled out a plastic container of muffins. “I made you and your mother these. They're morning-glory muffins.” Looking pleased, she added, “Have you had them before? They're chock-full of carrots and pineapple, spices and nuts.”

“They smell delicious.”

“They are. Filling, too.” Looking toward the doorway that led to the rest of the house, she added, “I supposed you can serve them to your guest.”

“I will put them to good use.” She was beyond nervous now. Chris needed her to keep his presence a secret, which meant Lydia needed to leave before he cried out in pain.

Or anything else happened.

She stood up. “I'm sorry, but I don't have time to chat. Running a B-and-B is a busy job, you know.”

Lydia's brows rose but she said nothing. Instead she got up slowly. “Beth, if you start feeling overwhelmed, or have any trouble, don't hesitate to ask for help. This is the slow time at my parents' nursery.”

“I won't have any trouble. I'll be just fine.”

“Sheriff Kramer is doing extra patrols, too. If you get worried or scared, I bet he could stop by regularly.”

That would be the absolute last thing she wanted to happen! “I won't need the sheriff here, Lydia. There's no need for him to trouble himself with me.”

“I'm sure he'd be happy to check in on you. It's a big house to be in all alone.”

“I'm not alone, though. I have a guest.”

“Who is a stranger,” Lydia pointed out.

“I will be fine.” When Lydia stared at her with wide eyes, Beth tried to temper herself. “I mean, please don't send Mose my way.”

“Um, okay, then. Hey, Walker and I are going to spend Christmas Eve at my house with my family. We'd love for you and your
mamm
to join us. Mamm and I have been baking for days.”

“
Danke
, I'll talk to my
mamm
.” Of course, she knew there was no way she was going to leave Chris's side until he left Crittenden County for good.

Firmly, she walked Lydia out. “Thank you again for the muffins.”

Lydia nodded but stared at her friend hard before turning to leave. “You're welcome.”

The moment she shut the door, Beth locked it, turned the dead bolt for good measure, then practically ran to the stairs.

She jerked to a stop when she saw Chris standing in the upstairs hallway, his jeans riding low on his hips. A gun was in his hand and his expression looked murderous.

“Who was here?” he rasped.

She'd thought she'd seen every expression on his face, but she now realized she'd been wrong. Standing in front of her, he looked dangerous and fierce.

He looked like no man she'd ever seen before—not even when he'd appeared in her dreams. “It was no one, Chris. No one you should worry about. Just a friend.”

His hard expression didn't ease. “Who was it? You said you wouldn't have any visitors.”

Her mouth went dry as she continued to stare at the gun. At his bare chest. Felt his hard gaze settle on her. And realized that there was something about him that she wasn't ever going to be able to forget.

It was starting out to be a very trying day, and it was barely 9:00 a.m.

Chapter 5

I never imagined this would be my life. It's not that I thought it would be better . . . only that it would be a whole lot different.

J
ACOB
S
CHROCK

Jacob was not living the life he'd dreamed of as a child. When he was small, he'd planned to raise horses, perhaps even move to one of the fancy horse farms near Louisville or Lexington and be a trainer, groomer, or farrier.

But little by little, his father had divested him of that dream. When Jacob was a boy, his
daed
had kept him close to his side at the store. Every day, his father would give him a lesson about running the place, and though Jacob had never been interested in being a shopkeeper, he'd slowly learned how to be a good one.

With a mixture of folksy sayings and true warmth, Aaron Schrock had made each customer feel as if he or she had stumbled into a cozy treasure trove of unique goods and practical necessities, all wrapped in a tidy knot of friendly warmth.

Jacob had often felt that way at home as well. His mother had been the practical enforcer, and although she'd kept her standards high and did her best to make sure Jacob met those expectations, she'd also been free with her hugs and jokes.

He'd been happy.

Looking back, Jacob realized he'd grown up in a cocoon of security. After he'd given up his dream of raising horses, he'd been secure in the knowledge that he would take over the store one day. Furthermore, all of his childhood memories seemed to be bunched together in a jumbled mass of happy times and laughter.

He had been blessed, and he knew that.

Now, however, he'd never felt more alone. With his father in prison and his mother off visiting their extended family in Holmes County, Jacob was left to bear all of the responsibility for the store. Though he'd spent much of his life preparing for it, the weight of the burden almost immobilized him.

What if he couldn't continue the store's success? What if everyone in the area found him lacking, or if the legacy of all that had happened with Perry Borntrager was too much to accept? What would he do then? How would he take care of Deborah if the store went bankrupt?

Here in the near-empty store, he wished he could find something to replace the confidence he used to have in spades.

“Your problem, I think, is that there are no critters in here,” Sheriff Mose Kramer said as he wandered up to the counter with a plastic basket full of baking products.

Jacob pulled the basket close and started punching in the prices for chocolate, sugar, and green and red candies on the ancient cash register. “My problem?”

“Yep,” Mose drawled, eyeing the store with a critical eye. “I was wandering around here, wondering what felt different, when I realized that it was altogether too quiet. That's when I realized that you don't have any cats or dogs or hamsters in cages. You should get on that, Jacob.”

“The critters were my father's doing, not mine.”

“Oh, I know that. Of course they were your father's doing. He always had a soft heart for animals and a keen mind for business.”

“That is true.”

Mose flashed a smile. “Those animals sure kept things lively. They were a topic of conversation around town, too. Folks would sit at the Marion Cafe, or Mary King's Restaurant or even at the gas station and talk about what confounded new animal Schrock had brought in.”

The reminder of his father stung. “It's eighteen dollars.” When the sheriff handed him a canvas bag, he began to put the items inside. “Looks like you're doing some baking?”

“I, uh, found an easy recipe for Christmas fudge. I thought I'd give it a try.”

“Good luck with that.” It was far easier to concentrate on Mose in the kitchen instead of the emptiness in his heart. He felt like he was living a complete lie. This was the man who'd brought him in for questioning, then actually arrested his father, and here Jacob was talking with him about the atmosphere in his family's store.

Mose handed him a twenty-dollar bill. “So, don't keep me waiting. What do you think about my idea? A few animals might liven things up, right?”

“It's a
gut
idea, but not one I'm ready to take on. Those animals were troublesome. And their antics created a lot of work. You know, it's just me and Deborah here now,” he said as he passed back the change. “Everything is different now.”

Mose ignored the two dollar bills and eyed Jacob intently instead. “It doesn't have to be that way.”

“It does. I can't afford any more employees right now.” In addition to sales being down, they had a pile of lawyers' bills to pay. Every extra penny had to go to them.

“You might be able to afford more if you did things a bit differently.”

Jacob kept his mouth shut because he didn't want to get into things that weren't any of Mose's business. “Thank you for coming in. I hope the fudge turns out.”