A Christmas Bride in Pinecraft (5 page)

Eric was making it all sound logical, but it didn't make sense to her. Not at all. He might as well have been speaking Greek. “Oh.”

“Beverly, the reason I'm telling you all this is because I doubt whoever robbed you will come back, or that they meant to actually harm you. This inn is probably known to do good business. Whoever broke in most likely thought you had more cash lying around than you did.”

She clung to that information. “I hope you're right. I rarely have cash. Most folks pay for their visits with credit cards.”

“I know.”

“I only have that lockbox in case they ask for change for large bills. Or want a cookbook.”

“I know,” he repeated, his voice soft. After almost a whole minute passed, Eric said, “Beverly, you haven't met my gaze in five minutes. Are you ever going to be able to look at me again?”

“I don't know,” she said honestly. She'd wanted to accept any
thing he told her, like she'd promised she would, but . . . well, that was before she'd learned that he'd been a criminal.

Raising her chin to look directly into his eyes, she said, “Eric, you've just told me that you did a great many bad things. Illegal things. How can I accept that?”

“I'm still the same man you've grown to know. I realize this is probably hard to hear, but once you take a moment to think about it, I'm sure you'll understand what I'm trying to say.”

“I don't know how I'm supposed to understand. You just told me that you've stolen and lied but that it was okay.”

“No, I told you that I did things I'm not proud of but that I learned from my mistakes. There's a difference.”

“All I know is that you've been intentionally keeping parts of your past a secret. You let me think you were a different sort of man than you are.” Though it was ruthless, she ignored his look of disbelief and hurt. She needed to think about herself and what was right for her future.

“What are you saying?”

“I'm not saying anything, other than the fact that every time I think I know you, I learn something new.”

“That's how relationships usually go, Bev.”

“Perhaps it is. But I, for one, can let you know right now that I haven't ever stolen from people, been in a gang, or spent time in prison. Just in case you were wondering.”

Hurt flashed in his eyes. “No, you're just judgmental.”

“I don't think I'm being judgmental. I'm simply telling you how I feel.”

“Well, I hear you loud and clear. Now, do you care which room I stay in?”

It was probably best to act like she wasn't hurt by his reaction. “If you don't mind, I'd like you to take the attic room.”

He scowled. “The one with three twin beds?”

“
Jah
. That's a hard room to fill. If and when we open again, most people would rather be in one of the standard guest rooms.”

Looking resigned, he reached for his bag. “I'll take my things up there. Then, we can get started cleaning up.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you're having second thoughts about me staying here?”

She was having second thoughts about everything, especially how she felt about the possibility of dating him.

But instead of recounting even more of her doubts and judgments, she simply stated the obvious. “This is your inn, Eric. Of course you must stay here. And yes, let's get started cleaning up. There is much to do.”

“Thank the Lord for that. Otherwise, you'd probably throw me out.”

Of course she wouldn't do anything like that. But she didn't dare say so. Therefore, she kept her silence, which Eric seemed to take as yet another sign of her doubt. So she just sat rigidly as he climbed the stairs and disappeared from view. Yet the moment she was sure she was completely alone, she rubbed her eyes and tried not to cry.

But just like learning about Eric's past, it seemed that some things were unavoidable.

I
'm going to be sleeping in a Barbie Dream House,” Eric muttered to himself as he walked into the attic room.

Looking around at the beds outfitted with coordinating quilts, the bright curtains, and the adjoining bathroom—which was decorated in pinks and purples—he laughed. He'd definitely never slept in a room like this before. It was a far cry from the modern Danish bedroom set at home that had cost him an arm and a leg—and served to remind him that he'd made something of himself. At last.

The blatantly feminine décor was even further from the stark utilitarian surroundings he'd lived with during his nine months in the juvenile detention center.

If the guys he'd shared space with back then could see him
now, he'd likely never live down their ribbing. Actually, he wouldn't be upset about their teasing, either. There were some things in life that one never expected to happen, and sleeping in an ultrafeminine girls' room in the attic of the Orange Blossom Inn—the very inn that he owned—was at the top of Eric's list.

He ultimately chose the bed farthest from the window, hoping perhaps that spot would shield him a bit from the worst of the sun's glare—though it was doubtful he'd be able to sleep much past seven or eight in the morning. But now that he'd taken care of that important decision, he was at a loss as to what to do next. Part of him wanted to formulate a plan for how to patch things up with Beverly, yet he feared there wasn't much for either of them to say. They'd had their share of rocky conversations over the past few months but this one had been the hardest so far.

Maybe because he didn't blame Beverly for feeling the way she did.

From the day he'd first met her in the local library and discovered that she ran the inn he'd just inherited—though she'd thought
she
was the rightful owner—they'd been playing a rather difficult game of chess. Lawyers had been involved and hours of conversations had ensued. But eventually, they'd come to an agreement of sorts: Eric had taken over handling the financial aspects of the inn while she'd continued to run it.

Along the way, however, something had begun to grow between them. Their rocky animosity had first settled into a partnership of sorts before at last becoming a true, warm friendship. More recently, that friendship had begun to change as well. There was a new thread of awareness between them. He'd always thought Beverly was attractive, but lately he'd started to think of
her as far more than just that. With her green eyes, thick brown hair, and slim build, he'd begun to think she was one of the prettiest women he'd ever known.

But ultimately, it had been her vulnerability that had drawn him to her in a romantic way—though that trait was encased in a tough shell of prickly self-preservation. Eric found himself wanting to spar with her and hold her in his arms—all at the same time.

If he was being honest with himself, even before the break-in, he'd been missing her so much that he had thought about making plans to see her again. Though he'd told her he hadn't wanted to leave until his house sold, he'd begun to feel like he needed to see her as soon as possible. It had become a physical thing—he'd taken to dreaming about her at night and worrying about her during the day. He was hardly getting any work done. As it was, he'd spent many a night imagining his return and far too many hours visualizing how it would feel to take that next step, to tell Beverly how he felt about her. He'd even thought about their first “real” dates, and how he would take things slow, allowing Beverly to get used to the idea of them being together.

But now it didn't look like that was ever going to happen. He'd broken her trust when he kept his past from her.

And today? Today she'd shown him that he was never going to be good enough.

Here it was, almost Christmas, and instead of feeling like he'd finally come home, he was wondering when he could go back to Pennsylvania.

Or perhaps he should just plan to move somewhere else entirely. Thinking of his brother, Eric wondered what it would
be like to reconnect with Jack again. Their lives had veered in such different directions, they probably didn't have anything in common anymore. But they might. Fishing his cell from his back pocket, he thought about giving Jack a call, but he wasn't ready. He felt too vulnerable.

Still, he couldn't seem to concentrate on anything other than the mess he'd made with Beverly. He had a broken heart and he had no idea how to fix it.

As he stewed on that, a sense of peace settled over him when he realized the answer had been there all along. He could go to the place he always went when he was troubled.

Taking a seat on his twin mattress, Eric lowered his head, clasped his hands together, and prayed.

“W
ELL, HERE WE ARE,”
Effie said when they were out of Violet's car. Sometimes Violet parked and walked in with her, but today she'd simply dropped them off, saying she had a couple of errands to run.

“Yep.”

Josiah smiled, but it was so subdued that she wasn't sure if he was happy they'd at last arrived or if she'd once again said something goofy. She didn't want to think about what it was she might have said, because the truth was there were about a hundred things that she could have said that would have made him laugh. She had been prattling away the whole time they'd been together, from the moment Violet had picked them up at school, until now. And even as they were heading up the front walk, she was tempted to start chattering on yet again.

It was Josiah's fault, anyway. Though he'd never been a chat
terbox, that afternoon he'd been unusually quiet. So quiet, Effie kept thinking he was upset about something. And he'd looked so relieved that he didn't have to carry the conversation that Effie had gone a little overboard.

Now that they stood on her front porch, Effie knew the right thing to do would be to open the front door, lead him to her kitchen, and give him a generous helping of cake.

But still . . . she hesitated. She didn't bring kids home very often. Practically never. So she wasn't quite sure what to say. Because of that, she kept overthinking things and was weighing each word before she spoke. Her halting manner was no doubt sounding as ridiculous as she felt. Why, Josiah would no doubt get up and leave as soon as he ate that piece of cake. And from the way he'd been acting, all quiet and awkward, Effie was pretty sure he regretted ever agreeing to come over in the first place.

So she simply stood there, her hands clasped behind her pale blue dress.

Like an idiot.

“Your sister, Violet, is nice,” Josiah said at last.

It took her a second to follow his train of thought. Then at last she nodded. “
Jah
, she is. My parents weren't happy when she made the choice to join the Palm Grove Mennonite Church instead of being baptized Amish, so for a while I didn't see her much. But now that they've patched things up, she's around all the time again. I think my parents might even agree that her decision to become Mennonite and take driving lessons is helpful on days like today.”

“Did she have a hard time learning to drive?”

Effie shrugged. “I don't think I ever asked. She didn't talk
much about her driving. But that was out of respect for our parents. They had a hard enough time coming to terms with her decision without having to deal with worries about driving a car. In the end, I think her boyfriend taught her.”

“That was thoughtful.” Gripping the porch railing, he said, “You two seem really close.”

“We are. Violet has always been there for me,” she added. “All three of my siblings have. My eldest brother, Karl, used to sit with me for hours after surgeries, and my other brother, Zack, is so patient. He's given up a lot of time with his friends to take me to physical therapy and doctors' appointments. I'm really blessed.”

“Maybe that's what older brothers do, huh?”

“What?”

“Do things for their siblings. Take care of them . . .” He cleared his throat. “My
bruder
Peter looks out for me. He always has.”

Glad they had something in common, she smiled. “Siblings are supposed to look out for each other. Ain't so?”

“Maybe, though I don't know if that's always the case.”

Thinking some more, she nodded. “I guess I do know a lot of girls who always fight with their older sisters.”

“Maybe we just got lucky?”

“I guess so.” Funny, she'd always assumed that Zack and Violet had looked after her out of a sense of duty—because of her braces—but it was nice to think about their concern in a new way. “Well, um, we might as well go in,” she said as she opened the front door. “Mamm, I'm home! Josiah is here, too.”
Please don't make a fuss
, she added silently.

Effie heard a clatter of dishes before her mother walked out of the kitchen. “Hi, you two,” she said.

“I was telling Josiah that you've been baking today. I asked him over for a slice of cake. I hope you don't mind?”

“Not at all,” Mamm said as she started back toward the kitchen. As usual, she was bustling around. “But I hope you won't only have one piece of cake, Josiah. I made a pot of chili, too. How about a cup of that with some corn bread?”

Effie inwardly groaned. So much for not making a fuss. “Chili, Mamm?”

“It's December. We might be living in Florida, but I've always liked chili in the winter. Would you like some, Josiah?”

Effie was just about to warn him that he didn't have to eat anything he didn't want when he spoke. “
Danke
, Mrs. Kaufmann. Your chili sounds mighty
gut
.”

Looking pleased, and a bit smug, her mother turned to her. “Effie, do you want any?”

“No, thanks. I'll wait for supper.”

Josiah looked her way. “Sorry, do you mind if I have some?”

“Of course not.” She pointed to the table. “Take a seat and I'll bring you a bowl.”

“I'll get myself a bowl. You don't have to serve me, Ef.”

“It's no trouble.”

“You're our guest, Josiah. Please sit down,” her mother said. “Effie, why don't you fetch something to drink?”

“
Jah
. Sure.” After getting them both tall glasses of iced tea, she sat next to him and slowly noticed two things: First, those shadows around his eyes that she'd seen earlier had worsened. Second, after her mother placed a heaping bowl in front of him,
topped with grated cheddar cheese and served with a thick square of fresh corn bread lathered with melting butter, she realized Josiah was hungry. Really hungry.

After closing his eyes in silent prayer for the briefest of seconds, he picked up his spoon and started eating. “This is really
gut
, Mrs. Kaufmann,” he said before Effie had even placed her napkin in her lap.

“I'm glad you like it, Josiah,” Mamm said with a bright smile. “We've got plenty, so be sure to have seconds. I always make too much.”

“Danke.”

As she sat there sipping tea, Effie noticed that Josiah was fixated on that chili like he'd never had anything so good in ages. A little worried and a bit embarrassed that something so small could make him so happy, Effie snuck a glance at her mother. She was still at the stove, stirring the pot. However, it was clear that Mamm was mighty aware of Josiah's hunger, too. She kept peeking at Josiah, looking truly concerned. It was the type of expression she wore whenever one of them got a fever. Or when she and Effie were waiting to hear test results at the doctor's office.

As if suddenly realizing he was wolfing down the food, Josiah set down his spoon. “Sorry. I'm actin' like a pig.”

“You weren't acting like that at all,” her mother said in her kind way.

He took a drink of his tea while Effie struggled to say something to ease his concern.

Luckily, her mother came to the rescue again. Chuckling softly, she said, “Josiah, you've been doing me a great favor. I can't seem to stop cooking for six people, you see. Why, you'd
be doing me a favor if you came here every afternoon, just so I wouldn't have so many leftovers to store.” She set a fresh piece of corn bread on his plate. “Here you go, dear. This slice is still warm. Eat up.”

“Want some corn bread?” he asked Effie, holding up the plate.

“Danke
,
nee.”
Realizing that she was going to have to say something to take the focus off his food, she blurted, “I think this is going to be the longest month in the world.”

“Because of the upcoming break?” he asked, taking another bite of chili.

“Jah
.
”
After debating a minute, she added, “And because Jennifer C. came up to me and was being her usual self.”

Immediately, Josiah's posture became straighter, more confident. “Effie, you've got to stop letting her bother you.”

“She didn't bother me.”

He set his spoon down. “You sure? What did she say today?”

“Nothing important.”

“Sure?”

“Jah.”
Because he was still staring at her, she said, “Sometimes I think she's surprised that you and I are friends.”

He grinned. Then, to her amazement, he shrugged. “Maybe when she hears that I came home with you she'll stop being so surprised.”

She was completely tongue-tied. “Josiah, I promise I won't tell anyone—”

“You won't need to. Everyone saw us leave together.”

“I suppose they did.”

“That girl,” her mother interrupted as she came back to stand next to them, “is simply mean. She's a terrible gossip, too.”

“Mamm, you shouldn't talk like that!” Effie protested. Her cheeks heated when Josiah raised his brows. No doubt he was thinking that she was one to talk. Here Effie was, gossiping about Jennifer.