A Sister's Wish (6 page)

“So, um, nothing changed.”

“Did you really think it had?”

She looked down at her lap. “No. But I guess I hoped they would have. And you're still Amish . . .”

“I had nowhere else to go. You and Jeremy said you'd come back for me if you could. You never did.” He hated to point that out and didn't wish to make her feel guilty, but he felt like he was barely managing to hold on to himself.

Seeing Tess out of the blue like this was difficult. So many emotions were spinning inside of him. He was happy to see his sister but completely unable let the gaps in their relationship go unnoticed. To make matters worse, he was already feeling stretched to the limit after discovering Amelia in her barn, staying by her side at the hospital, then being told he would never be good enough for her by his best friend in the world.

Why had God decided to heap all of this on him at one time?

“I had every intention of coming to get you, Simon,” she said quietly, “but I needed to have a place to take you to, first.”

Remembering how scared he'd been on the streets after the initial relief of escaping their house had worn off, he said, “What happened to you?”

“I spent my first three months living on the streets.”

He wasn't sure how to accept that statement. “But Jeremy said you were going to be together.” That was what Simon had always thought. He'd spent hours imagining the two of them together while he'd been dealing with the consequences of their departure at home.

She shook her head. “We weren't together.”

“How come?”

To his amazement, Tess looked apologetic. “Jeremy, well . . . Jeremy hooked up with a bad crowd. They weren't safe.”

He almost smiled. “You don't need to shield me, Tess. I have a pretty good feeling what they were like.”

“Then you probably will understand what I mean when I tell you that I didn't trust any of them. Actually, I was afraid of most of the guys he hung around. After the first night, I knew I would be safer out on my own.”

He stared at her, hard. Even after all this time, her expression was haunted. “So you left?” he asked, his voice softer.

“Jah.”
She shrugged. “I left the next morning. Jeremy was still asleep.” Looking out the window, she said, “At first I thought he might look for me. That he might leave the people he was with . . . but he didn't.”

“All this time I thought that the two of you were together.”

“That isn't what happened. I only saw him once after I left. It didn't go well. Have you seen him?”

“Nee.”

“I'm sorry. I had hoped . . . well, I hoped that Jeremy would have fulfilled his promise better than I did.”

She looked sincere. He supposed she was. “It doesn't matter now.”

“I think it might,” she said softly. “For what it's worth, after things got better, I planned to come find you, but I was too afraid.”

“I understand that now.” Any reminder of their past was particularly painful.

“Do you? I'm not sure if I do.” She stopped and leaned back when Josephine brought their salads. She picked up her fork, then froze when Simon bowed his head.

Then, to his surprise, she bowed her head and joined him in silent prayer.

That action meant the world to him. It helped him realize that they weren't all that different after all. They might have chosen different roads to take with their lives, but they were essentially the same people who had lived across the hall from each other. That realization was all he needed to warm up toward her. “After you left Jeremy what did you do next?”

“I met Jill.” Looking happier, she said, “Jill was a police officer when I met her. She brought me turkey subs. Then, one rainy night, she asked me to come home to her house.”

“And you did?”

She nodded. “I was afraid, but it was pouring rain. I was sitting in front of a library attempting to stay dry and failing miserably. Jill promised me something better.”

“You trusted her?”

“No. But I started thinking that whatever happened with her couldn't be any worse than what already had happened.”

Her words hit him in his middle. Amazing how he'd spent the majority of his life never speaking about just how bad things had been at home. Even Lukas knew better than to ever mention his parents. But here, Tess was speaking about the past so plainly. It was difficult to hear. But also strangely freeing. It was as if her willingness to talk lifted some of the burdens he hadn't even realized he was carrying.

Because she was being so brave, he forced himself to ask the question that he wasn't sure he wanted answered. “Was it as bad?”

She set her fork down. “
Nee,
Simon,” she said quietly. “She took me into a clean little condominium, gave me an old pair
of her sweats, and showed me where my room and bathroom were.” Looking as if she still couldn't believe it, she continued. “Then she showed me the lock on the door. She told me to take a hot shower and that when I got out she would have some soup and a grilled cheese sandwich waiting for me.”

He swallowed hard. “And did she?”

“
Jah,
” she said, her voice filled with wonder. “I had given up on anyone doing what they said they were going to do. But she did.”

When she smiled, Simon did, too. Just in time for their chicken dishes to arrive.

As if she could feel the tension between them, Josephine looked at each of them hesitantly. “I hope you both will like the special.”

Picking up her fork again, Tess beamed. “We will. Neither of us . . . well, neither of us ever take meals for granted. Especially not good ones.”

After two bites, Simon smiled at Tess. “This is good. I wasn't even sure what chicken parmesan was.”

She laughed. “You made a good choice. This is the best I've ever had.”

He grinned down at his plate. Because he knew she wasn't talking about the dish, she was talking about the moment.

And she was right. It was one of the best he'd ever had.

But it was too bad that such goodness came on the heels of his necessary breakup with Amelia.

Chapter 6

W
alking home just as the sun was setting, Simon stretched his arms out in front of him. This had to have been one of the longest days of his life. First, he'd found Amelia injured on the floor of her barn, then there'd been the ambulance ride and worry over her health. Then, just after he was reeling from his discussion with Lukas, he'd run into Tess.

Now that he was walking back home at last, Simon was feeling more confused about his life than ever.

It had been startling to see how Tess had transformed herself. Instead of the teenager he remembered who'd been both bitter and practically afraid of her own shadow, she'd become strong and compassionate. She seemed successful, too—a woman that she was proud to be.

Had he reached that point yet? Was it even possible?

He had thought so until he'd been completely open with his best friend about his arrest, drug use, and prison sentence. Now Lukas was acting as if he was tainted for life.

Maybe he was.

What would it have been like if someone, anyone, had stepped up for him? It would have been nice to have a Jill in his life.

Then he remembered Mr. Kinsinger. That man had sat across from him in his office and listened to Simon's story without interrupting. Then, before Simon even had to beg, he'd offered him a job and pulled out five one-hundred-dollar bills from a locked drawer in his office.

Mr. Kinsinger had believed in his worth and that had meant more to Simon than even the money he'd needed to find an apartment and get some clothes and food. If Lukas's dad hadn't been there for him? Well, Simon didn't care to guess where he would be now.

Several times, he'd been sure that Tess had wanted to ask him about his current life. She'd been curious about his job and his home.

He wasn't sure why, but he had dodged most of her questions and even refused her offer of a ride home. He needed space; and though he wasn't ashamed of where he lived, he wasn't quite ready to see Tess's expression when she saw just how much work his little farmhouse and adjoining barn needed.

Though Tess had looked disappointed, she hadn't argued. After giving him her cell phone number, she'd reluctantly agreed to split the payment for the meal, gave him a little wave, and asked him to call her sometime soon. He'd promised he would.

Now as he reached the top of one of the rolling hills just to the west of his plot of land, he spied a teenage boy walking on the side of the road. He was kicking at an old soda can that someone had probably tossed out a car window. Simon was about to ignore him and keep walking when he noticed the boy holding his side in a certain, familiar way.

Making a sudden decision, he crossed over to talk to him.
“Hey, you should probably pick up that can and throw it away. You'd get wherever you are going a heap faster.”

When the boy lifted his head, Simon nearly gasped. He was wearing a sizable shiner. When he noticed that the boy's knuckles didn't look red or swollen, Simon knew his suspicions had been right. The kid hadn't just gotten out of a fight. He'd been beaten.

To his credit, the boy didn't look away. Instead, he stared at Simon unapologetically. Practically daring him to comment on his appearance.

Simon didn't dare. “We haven't met. My name is Simon Hochstetler.”

“I'm not Amish.”

No, he wasn't. The boy was wearing faded jeans, tennis shoes, and a white T-shirt. His hair was practically shaved off.

But even if he wasn't Amish, Simon felt like he knew the kid well. “I kinda figured that,” he stated, letting his sarcasm shine through in his tone. “So, what's your name?”

Instead of answering, the boy stared at him. Everything in his body language hinted that he was distrustful of Simon. And angry. So angry.

But he didn't run off, either.

Remembering how relieved yet anxious he'd felt whenever he'd escaped his house, Simon said easily, “Even though I'm Amish, I still have ice.”

“So?”

“I live right down the street. The old white house with the faded red barn.”

For the first time, a spark of interest entered the boy's brown eyes. “You live in the ugly one?”

Simon almost grinned. “
Jah
. It's a real eyesore. Ain't so?”

“How come you haven't fixed it up yet? My parents—I mean, some people say that you should.”

“I figure they're right. Want some ice or a compress for your eye?”

He took a step back. “I'm okay.”

“Sure? 'Cause I've had my share of black eyes, and I've got to tell you that it's going to feel worse tomorrow if you don't try to get the swelling to go down.”

“I'll be fine.”

“Have you eaten?” He held up his sack. “I've got half a chicken parmesan dinner in here. You're welcome to it, if you want.”

“Why are you being so nice?”

“Because I've been where you are.”

The boy looked at him suspiciously. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

So tough. So scared to trust. Choosing his words with care, Simon said, “I don't know who got the best of you with his fists. All I know is that my father liked to take his anger out on me. For years. I walked around these streets of Charm any chance I could. Some days I would just be lonely. Some days, I'd be so hungry I could hardly stand it. Other times, I would just be hoping that someone would care enough to notice.”

“Did anyone?”

“Nope.” Eyeing the teenager carefully, he added, “I guess I just wanted you to know that I noticed.”

For a split second, a look of longing so sweet entered the young man's eyes that it practically took Simon's breath away. Then his expression became shuttered again. “I'm not you.”

“All right, then.” He held out his sack from Josephine's. “Even if you don't want any ice, you're welcome to my leftovers.”

“No, thanks. I gotta go.”

As Simon watched him turn and walk away, he called out, “Boy, what's your name?”

Though the boy kept walking, he slowed his pace. “Justin.”

“Good to meet you, Justin. If you are ever out this way again, stop by and say hello. You can see my place close up.”

Justin froze, then started walking again.

Simon smiled. At least he'd been heard. He reckoned that was a start.

Later, when he was walking up his drive, his gaze drifted to the old barn that rested a few hundred yards from his house. It was a large, looming thing. It was a bit lopsided and covered in peeling red paint. Ugly. Since he didn't keep a horse, he'd often thought of tearing it down, but he hadn't had the heart to destroy something that was still useful.

But now, thinking of Justin, he wondered if there was a reason it was on his property. Maybe that barn could be used for something besides housing animals and farm equipment?

“I
THINK
I made a really big mistake, Jill,” Tess said into her cell phone after filling her in about her surprise meeting with Simon and the meal they shared. “I might have come on too strong.”

Jill laughed. “You, Tess?”

Tess flushed. “You know me as a pretty direct girl, but I wasn't always like that. I used to be fairly timid.”

“I remember exactly how you used to be,” Jill said softly. “You're right. You weren't always so confident.”

And just like that, the memories returned. Before she knew it, she was lying on her side on her motel room's queen-sized bed, her legs tucked close . . . just the way she'd gone to sleep in her twin bed in the attic of her childhood home.

Realizing that she was holding one arm protectively around her middle, Tess pushed herself up into a sitting position. Then moved to sit at the desk. Anything to break the memories threatening to overtake her. Feeling a panic attack looming, she closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing in and out.

“Tess? Don't go there,” Jill ordered in her ear.

She opened her eyes on an exhale, then realized, to her surprise, that she'd been awkwardly holding the phone to her cheek the whole time. “I'm sorry. Was I panting in your ear?”

“A little bit.”

“Sorry. I don't know what happened.”

“Don't apologize. I can't imagine how difficult those memories must be.”

Rubbing a hand across her forehead, she grimaced. She was sweating like she'd just run a marathon. She pulled up the tail of her shirt and wiped her brow. “I thought I was better.”

“You are better. You just haven't forgotten.”

“I guess I haven't.”

Jill paused, then said in a soft voice, “I remember that little girl who I found in the park real well. That girl was shy and scared and unsure. But there wasn't a thing wrong with her, Tess.”

There wasn't a thing wrong with her.
How many times had Jill whispered that to her? Likely too many to count. Most of the time she believed it, too. Then, there were moments like today, when she was sure Jill was wrong. When that happened,
Tess would start doubting herself. Worse, she'd remember all the verbal abuse she'd heard at home. All the hateful things her father had told her . . . all the things she'd worried were actually true.

“There still ain't a thing wrong with you. You're a strong and lovely woman. So stop your tears.”

Swiping her cheek, Tess laughed. “I don't know how you know what I'm doing and thinking over the phone.”

“I was a pretty good cop, girl.”

“You were a really good cop.” Not only had Jill gone above and beyond the call of duty and rescued her off the streets, she had reached out in countless ways to other members of the community. Over a hundred people had attended her retirement party. “What do you think I should do now?”

“It's not what I think that counts. What do you want to do?”

“I want to see Simon again.” Hating how vague that sounded, she said, “No, I want to know Simon again. I want to be a part of his life.”

“Then that's what you need to do.”

“It's not that easy. What if I see my parents?”

“Just because you see them doesn't mean you have to do a thing,” Jill replied, her voice hard. “You owe them nothing.”

“What if they want to talk to me?”

“You can either listen to what they have to say or turn and walk away. It's your choice now.”

“And Jeremy? What about him? What am I going to do if I see him?”

“Same thing, I reckon.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It's not. But don't forget, he was a victim, too, Tess.”

“I know. I'm just not sure if I can handle any more reminders of the past.” As soon as she said the words, she swallowed the lump in her throat. She sounded terrible.

“How about you take things one step at a time? Right now, you have something to give thanks for. You got to see your little brother. You even got to share a meal with him.”

Leaning back in the chair, Tess smiled. “Oh, Jill, you should have seen him. He's so handsome. And tall! And he's got this air about him, too.” She paused, wondering how to describe it. “It's all tough and cool.”

“Tough and cool, huh?”

“
Jah
. Like something out of one of those old James Dean movies.” Liking the comparison, she said, “Get this. I saw two women on the sidewalk stare at him. I didn't know whether to glare at them for being so brazen or pat him on the back.”

Jill chuckled. “You sound like a sister. Like you're proud and appalled, all at the same time.”

“I guess I am. I'm still his sister,” she said with some surprise. “He's turned out fine, in spite of everything.”

“Just like you.” There Jill went again. Saying exactly the right thing.

Standing up again, Tess crossed to the window and glanced out. It was dark outside, there was nothing to see, but she wasn't afraid of it anymore. “I had help, though. I had you. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't showed up. Nothing good.”

“You helped me, too. Before you came along, all I did was work. You made us a family.”

And here came the tears. “I'll never be able to repay you.”

“I don't want to be repaid. Love doesn't work that way.”

“True, but still . . .”

“When you fall in love . . . if you ever fall in love, you'll understand.”

“I'm only thirty-five.”

“It's time to let your guard down, girl. Next time some man asks you out to dinner, say yes.”

“I'll settle with trying to have supper with Simon again.”

Jill chuckled once more. Then, after spending another couple of minutes chatting about Jill's new cat and the yoga class she was taking, they hung up.

Tess wasn't sure what was going to happen next. All she did know was that she had to see Simon again. She needed her brother back in her life. More importantly, she was determined to do whatever she could to keep him there.

That was a vow she was proud of. And a wish she hoped would come true.