A Christmas Bride in Pinecraft (4 page)

Because of all this, Effie ignored his gruff tone of voice and concentrated on how troubled he looked. She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “You seem kind of upset. Are you? Or, um, are you sick or something?”

The shadow that had been lurking in his eyes became more pronounced. “Something is wrong, but I'm all right.”

“If something is wrong, you probably aren't all right,” she said with a small smile. “Believe me, I know all about things like that.”

His gaze skimmed over her body, stopping on her legs. Though her dress covered her braces, she felt exposed.

“
Jah
, I guess you would,” he said at last.

She knew he didn't mean it in a cruel way. He was no doubt referring to her braces. “So, what's wrong?”

A thread of vulnerability slid into his eyes before he blinked and his expression hardened. “Why are you even asking?”

“Well, um . . .”

“You think you can solve all of my problems while sitting here in the library?”

She flinched at this new tone. His words felt as harsh as if he had been making fun of her in front of the whole school. He was probably right, anyway. He had a lot of friends. If he had a problem, he'd pick one of them to tell, not her. “Sorry. I . . . I, um, didn't mean anything.” Bracing her hands on her chair, she pulled herself up.

Immediately, pain crossed his features. Reaching out, he grabbed her arm. “Hey, Eff . . . wait.”

Still unable to look at him, she paused, hating that she did so. She'd thought she had more self-respect than that. “What?”

“I'm sorry I spoke to you that way. I didn't mean it. Sit back down, would you?” After looking around the room, he lowered his voice. “Please?”

Though she felt more than a couple curious gazes focused on them, Effie sank back into her seat. “Josiah, I don't know what you want me to do.”

From the way he was staring at her, she wondered if he didn't know, either. Seconds passed. A couple of his friends walked by. He kind of lifted his chin at them but remained silent.

By now, she was really uncomfortable. “Maybe we can talk later.”

“Do I really look messed up?”

“You don't look messed up. Um, just a little worried.” Thinking she needed to be completely honest, she patted the skin around her eye, too. “And, um, your eyes look kind of weird. Like you're really tired. Or something.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Huh. I thought I'd gotten pretty good at hiding things.”

What in the world did that mean? “Most people wouldn't notice anything was wrong,” she hastened to reassure him. Because, well, most people probably weren't looking at him constantly, the way she was.

Not wanting to make things worse, she added, “Listen, I'm sorry I said anything.”

“
Nee
. It's not you, it's me.” He exhaled again. “So, are you looking forward to break?”

“
Jah
. Only a couple more weeks to go. I hope it goes by fast.”

“Me, too.” He smiled weakly, but she noticed that he didn't sound all that excited about the upcoming winter vacation. The tension pulled tighter between them and made her feel even more awkward.

“Hey, my
mamm
said she was taking today off to bake.”

“Why is she doing that?”

Sometimes Josiah said the oddest things. “Because she is doing her Christmas baking,” she replied. “Isn't your
mamm
baking nonstop right now?” Nearly every one of her Amish friends were either complaining or celebrating that their mothers were all baking up a storm.

“Ah,
nee
.”

“Really?” She was about to ask what his mother was creating for all the gift exchanges and charity auctions that were on everyone's social calendar, but something in his manner stopped her. Almost as if he was embarrassed about something.

Suddenly Effie realized that she'd never seen Josiah's mother at any of the usual bazaars or bake sales. Maybe his
mamm
was a shut-in or something? Not wanting him to feel self-conscious—after all, he bent over backward to avoid mentioning her bad legs—she smiled brightly. “Hey, do you want to come over after school and have a piece of cake?”

His eyebrows rose. Which, she realized, they probably should. Because she'd just invited the most popular boy in the seventh grade over for cake. Who invited boys over for desserts, anyway?

“Sorry. I guess that was stupid of me to ask.”

“What was?”

“You know, me asking if you wanted to come over.”

He looked down but shook his head.
“Nee
. . .”

There was her answer. “Okay.”

“
Nee
, Effie. It weren't stupid. What I'm trying to say is
jah
.
Danke
. Some cake sounds great,” he said quietly.

Belatedly, she added, “My sister usually picks me up from school.”

“Okay. I'll wait for you outside your classroom.”

“Okay. I'm in the art—”

“I know where your last class is,” he said as he got up. “I'll be there.” He looked at her for what felt like a solid minute before he turned and walked over to a group of boys by the reference books.

Two minutes later, Jennifer C. stopped by Effie's seat. “Is Josiah being weird again? Don't worry about it, Effie. He's been that way with everyone lately.”

Effie didn't respond, but inside she was secretly smiling. Josiah might be “that way” with everyone lately, but not with her. Instead, he was going home with her.

And she could already guess what people would say when that news got out.

W
hat we need is a list,” Eric pronounced. “Go get a pad of paper and a pencil, Bev.”

After Beverly had first shown him inside, he'd asked her to walk through the rest of the inn with him. At first she'd been fighting an awful lump in her throat—unable to see anything but the destruction—but Eric's response had been far more optimistic. Every time she'd noticed something out of place, he'd noticed something positive.

And now that they'd reached the end of their tour in the kitchen, she had calmed enough to not feel completely out of sorts.

When she was holding both paper and a pencil, she raised a brow. “I've got them. Now what?”

“Now we figure out what to do next.” Pulling out one of the kitchen chairs, he motioned for her to sit.

Again, she did as he bid. But as she looked at the blank page on the table, a new bubble of insecurity flooded through her. There was too much to do, too much to think about. She honestly had no idea how to begin to fix things. “Eric, I don't even know where to start.”

“That's why you've got me,” he said as he took the chair next to her. “Look, I know you're upset. I know you're hurting, too. But I think your worries will ease if we concentrate on something else for a while. Let's make a list of everything that we can do now so you can open the doors again.”

“Oh, I don't want to do that.” When he stared at her in confusion, she clarified. “I mean, don't you think we should wait awhile? I was thinking the inn could remain closed for the rest of the month.”

“But you told me yourself that December is always a busy month for the inn. You said you were almost completely booked.”

“That is true. But I emailed some guests this morning and cancelled reservations.”

“All of them?”

“Just the ones for next week.” She bit her lip. “Eric, I was thinking I'd call the following week's guests, too.”

“Are you sure that's the right thing to do?”

She nodded. “The window is broken and the gathering room is a mess.”

“We can clean all that up.” He paused, then continued, speaking slowly, as if he was being very careful about how he phrased
things. “I know this is hard but I really think you'll feel better if we get you back into your normal routine.”

“But, Eric, I just don't know. I mean, so much is a mess. Why, even the lamps were broken.”

“What happened was scary. I know that. But nothing happened that can't be fixed or replaced. I'll buy some new lamps. Everything is going to be all right. I promise. Try to keep that in mind.”

His words made sense, but they didn't ease her fears. “I'll try,” she said weakly.

He frowned. “Beverly, what is really upsetting you?”

At last, she shared her greatest concern, the one that had kept her up most of the night in the Kaufmanns' guest bedroom. “I'm worried that the robbers will come back. I don't know what I'll do if that happens.”

“If they come back, I'll take care of them.” Reaching out, he snagged the pad of paper and pen out of her hands. “Now, what should we do first?”

She wasn't about to let him brush off her fears like they were foolish concerns. In fact, his confidence was actually beginning to grate on her. “How would you even know what to do, Eric? They could be dangerous. Rough.”

He smiled. “I can be dangerous, too.”

Eric was tall and he was strong. But she doubted he would be any match for a desperate thief. “You don't know what you're talking about. Why, you haven't even spoken to the police yet.”

“I know enough.”

Though she knew she was on the verge of sounding like a
shrew, she retorted, “No offense, but I don't think you're in the position to know what we're dealing with.” She lifted her chin. “I talked to Officer Roberts.”

“You're exactly right. I do need more information. I'll call him or stop by his office tomorrow and get the full report.”

“
Gut
. But be prepared, he might tell you that I'm right and that the burglars might come back.”

“We'll see, but I have a feeling he might also say that it's more likely that the robbers will target another inn or house instead of returning here.” Looking as confident as he ever did, he said, “Trust me, Beverly. I know about this sort of thing.”

“You mentioned that earlier. How would you know so much about robberies? Have you been robbed before?”

Instead of looking irritated by her quip as she'd expected, he shook his head. “No, but I know something about robberies.”

He was talking in circles. “How come?”

A muscle in his jaw jumped as he looked away. “You know what? How I know isn't important.”

He was going to brush off her request for an explanation again. Refusing to let that happen, she pressed a hand flat on the table. “Oh, no, you're not going to set me up and then not tell me what you meant. Explain.”

“Not right now.” He held up the pen again. “Now, what cleaning supplies should I pick up?”

“No, Eric, I don't want to wait. Just tell me what you meant.”

“You're not going to like what you hear,” he hedged.

She'd started out being confrontational because she felt helpless and scared. And she knew she'd been lashing out at him because he had been acting so cocky and sure of himself. But now
she was really curious. She was also fairly sure that whatever he was hiding was important to both of them. He needed to share it and she needed to hear it.

“I thought we already knew a lot about each other, Eric,” she said. “I thought you trusted me. I promise, I would never betray any of your secrets.”

“It's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Beverly, I know a lot about you. But you don't really know much about me. We haven't talked about my past all that much.”

She was embarrassed. Eric was right. Absolutely right. So much of their time together had been focused on her loss and her past. “I'm sorry. I haven't meant to be self-centered.”

“You weren't. I intentionally kept our conversations focused on you. I didn't want to talk about my past.”

“Eric, I want to know you as well as you know me. I want to be as good a friend to you as you've been to me,” she coaxed. “I promise I won't judge.”

Tossing the pen down on the table, he pushed it and the pad of paper away. “You don't know what you're promising.”

“I'm tougher than you think. I was raised Amish but I'm not completely naïve about life.” Softly, she added, “And I'd like to think that I'm pretty compassionate.”

“Before on the phone, I lied.” He closed his eyes. “I actually do have some experience with break-ins.”

She gasped. “Oh, Eric. I am so sorry.” She continued, her words practically tripping over each other as she tried to make amends. “Yet again, I've been running around, acting like I'm the only person in the world who has had something bad happen to
them.” Leaning toward him, she reached out and gently grasped his forearm. “When were you robbed? Was it recently? Was it terrible? What did you lose?”

His expression was completely pained now. “It wasn't quite like that.”

“What was it like?”

Pulling his arm out of her grasp, he said, “You know what? Don't worry about it.”

Though she knew it might be easier for him if she dropped the subject, she didn't dare. Whatever he was reluctant to tell her had to be pretty important. In all the time she'd known him, he'd never looked so secretive or hesitant.

Therefore, she pushed a little more. “Eric, I can't get to know you better if you refuse to share your past. What happened?”

He gazed at her steadily, as if he was judging just how she would take his news.

Giving in to impulse, she reached out to him again, this time curving a hand around one of his. Immediately, his hand turned and he gripped her fingers. Keeping her with him.

That was all she needed to know that she was doing the right thing by pushing. “Eric,” she began gently, “I want to be the kind of friend that you can count on, not someone who takes and takes. Please, just tell me.”

“Fine.” He swallowed, looked like he was gathering his courage, then blurted, “I used to break in to houses when I was a teen.”

His admission was such a surprise, she jerked her hand back but he held her fingers more tightly, as if she were his lifeline.

“You robbed people?” She couldn't wrap her head around the news. Couldn't equate his words with what she knew about him.

“I got mixed up with some bad kids.” He paused, shook his head, then said, “No, that's not true. I was one of the bad kids.”

She smiled. “Of course you weren't.” Surely he was overstating things. He was one of the nicest men she'd ever met. Hadn't he just dropped everything to come to Sarasota?

“I'm telling you the truth, Bev.”

“Perhaps you are exaggerating? I mean, my goodness. You went to college and got your accounting license, too. You're smart and a hard worker.”

“I did do those things. And I might be that person now. But back then, years ago, I was wild and on a pretty bad path. Beverly, when I was sixteen, I spent nine months in a juvenile detention center.”

At last what he was saying sank in. And with that came the sudden, awful realization that he hadn't been exaggerating. He had been
bad
. She hadn't really known him at all. “Why? What did you do?”

“I broke into two houses. And I got caught.” He looked uncomfortable and strained and embarrassed and angry. “I can't believe I'm telling you this. I never wanted you to know about my past.”

He'd intended to keep his past a secret from her?

Feeling betrayed, she ached to push away from him, to let go of his hand and gain some distance. But his pained expression, combined with her promise to hear him out, made her stay where she was. Though it was difficult, she forced herself to look him in the eye. “Maybe you could explain to me what happened.”

“I don't have much family. My dad is a recluse and my mother passed away years ago, back when I was just a child.”

“How old were you when she passed?”

He swallowed hard. “Five.”

“Oh, Eric.”

Visibly steeling himself, he continued. “When I was growing up, we weren't just poor, we had
no
money. My only meals were ones I got at school or when my aunt brought us food from the food pantry.”

“So you stole because you were hungry?” She grasped at that excuse, needing him to have had a reason to stray from what was right.

“Yes and no. By the time I was fourteen, my father had become even more withdrawn. He was literally afraid to leave the apartment. We subsisted on his welfare checks and even those weren't regular. So my older brother, Jack, took things into his own hands. He got involved with a gang, started dealing.”

Try as she might, she couldn't keep the dismay from her voice. “He was dealing drugs?”

“Yeah.” Eric glanced at her, but his eyes darted away before he continued. “What he did wasn't right, Bev. I know that. But because of him, we had money. For the first time in years, we had food in the house. I could even buy some clothes.”

“What did your
daed
say?”

He blinked. “Say?”

“About the money? About the food and the clothes. Surely he was curious about how Jack had gotten such things?”

“My father wasn't like your dad. He wasn't involved with our lives, so he didn't really notice. If he noticed anything, it was probably that I wasn't whining.” He exhaled again. “Anyway, I
liked having money. I liked having clothes that fit. I liked not being hungry.”

“That is easy to understand.”

“I began to idolize Jack. He protected me from anyone trying to give me a hard time at school and he took care of me at home. He was the only person in my life I could depend on.”

It was hard for her to visualize Eric living such a life. She hated to think of him being hungry. So even though she didn't approve of his brother's actions, she couldn't bear to fault Eric for them. “I'm glad you had Jack.”

“I am, too.” After a brief pause, he continued. “Because I idolized him, because I knew he was responsible for making my life better, I would have done anything for him.”

“So you did.”

He nodded. “One night Jack came into my room and said he needed my help. I immediately stood up and pulled on my jacket. I didn't need to know why.”

“You were simply glad to do something for him,” she said softly.

“Yeah.”

“Um . . . was that the night you robbed a house?”

There was a glint in his eyes now. That almost-amused look he got when he thought she was terribly naïve. “No, Bev. That was simply the first time I did things I wasn't supposed to.” When he blinked, his smirk was replaced by pain. She realized then that he was not only embarrassed by his past, he also was ashamed. But he was willing to let her see his vulnerability, and at the same time, was opening himself up for her anger and derision.

She swallowed, trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible. But it was hard because she felt like she was staring at a man who was changing right in front of her eyes. “I see,” she said weakly.

Still looking like it was taking everything inside him to meet her gaze, he shook his head. “No, I don't think you do. I did a lot of terrible things. A lot of things I've spent years making up for. I was eventually arrested for robbery.” He shifted, looking just beyond her. “I was still a teenager, thank God, and my brother had run interference for me a lot, keeping me from doing anything that I would regret for the rest of my life. It's because of him that I only did a stint in juvie. He kept me from going completely down the wrong path.”