Between Two Promises (9 page)

Everything turned around when he ran into Daniel in Glacier National Park, right before Daniel’s wedding to Tara. When they found each other, face to face, in the middle of the Montana backcountry, both realized neither could go back as if they had never met. God had placed them together.

Did God have something more in store for them?

Despite the snow, his old, tiny bungalow looked like how he remembered, other than that someone had removed the “for sale” sign and a sedan was parked in the driveway. His former landlady must’ve finally found a buyer. His small garden, the one in which he’d planted black-eyed Susans to remind him a little bit of his home state, still had the thick flowerless stalks sticking out of the snow. Above the garden was where someone had chucked a pumpkin at his house a few weeks before Halloween. A wreath hung on the front door, the same door on which someone had spray painted “GET OUT OF TOWN” about the same time they’d hurled the pumpkin at his house. Shaking his head, he still wondered if a man like Reverend Yoder could have had any connection to such childish pranks.

He had promised Daniel before leaving Montana he’d refrain from investigating anymore into Kyle’s death, and he meant to keep that promise. But seeing the old house, with the rush of memories from when he’d lived there—the threats, that moment when Daniel had attempted to kiss him on the sofa after Daniel had revealed his secret about him and Kyle Yoder—he found suppressing his journalistic cravings difficult.

Farther up Ivy Street, the town’s main thoroughfare, local shop owners had fully decked out Henry for Christmas. Wreaths and red bows hung from the streetlamps. Garlands had been strung on the awnings over most businesses. Windows charmed passersby with artificial snowflakes and stringer lights.

He saw the Schrocks’ old furniture shop. Like a handful of other shops, it sat vacant, without the cheery trimmings. The awning, once having borne the shop’s name, “Schrock Furniture,” had been removed. Shrugging inwardly, he supposed closing the shop last spring was for the best. Orders for furniture had been increasing since summer, and they’d pocket more profits rather than sink so much into costly rent.

The Henry Blade
office was decorated too. A cardboard Santa waved from the door. Yellow glow illuminated the frosty window. His former boss, Kevin Hassler, always an early bird, must have already been hard at work. Aiden parked the truck alongside the curb out front.

Computers and overhead fluorescent lights hummed when he walked in, the same greeting he’d received each time he’d stepped inside the small utilitarian office the five months he’d worked there.

Kevin looked up from his desk.

“Aiden Cermak. What do you know? Fancy seeing you walk in.” He stood, wiped his hands on his slacks, approached Aiden with an extended hand.

“Yeah, I guess you can’t keep me away.” Aiden clasped his hand, grinning widely. His old boss looked much the same: short stature, small, dark eyes behind thick glasses, perhaps a bit grayer along the temples of his thinning hair. Aiden glanced over Kevin’s shoulder at a woman typing at his old desk.

“Got a new employee, I see.”

“I hired Carolyn a few months after you resigned,” Kevin said. “She’s a graduate student studying communications at the university down near Mattoon. Carolyn, this is Aiden Cermak, one of my former reporters. Aiden, this is Carolyn Bates.” Aiden offered his hand, but she remained at her desk, where she only glanced up with a quick nod and turned back to the computer.

Aiden inwardly chuckled that a communications major would seem fairly uncommunicative. “Good learning experience working here, I bet.”

“More for me,” Kevin said. “Carolyn teaches me a lot. She’s very bright, more than I am. I never had the chance to go to school myself. I was one of those old-fashioned, self-made guys, learned by the ropes. You young folks are lucky these days. You get a good jumpstart before diving in.”

“I always thought about going to grad school,” Aiden said. “I can never seem to get around to it.” He waited for Carolyn to partake in the conversation, but she seemed focused on whatever she was typing.

Tension in the office weighted heavier than Aiden had anticipated. When Aiden had resigned from the
Blade
with little notice last Thanksgiving, he understood Kevin had been glad to see him go. Kevin had come down hard on Aiden for investigating Kyle Yoder’s death. His nosiness had caused many complaints from Kevin’s readers. Eventually, Aiden had backed down from the Kyle story, but not without animosity stewing between him and his boss. Some of that mild discomfort still lingered, like an unattended toothache.

He smiled wider, hoping to force away the nagging sensation that he was unwanted, even in Kevin’s office.

Kevin kept up with the small talk. “Carolyn got a softball scholarship for college. She took the Henry High School team to the state championships. Has near perfect grade point average.”

“Sounds like you got yourself a star reporter,” Aiden said.

“She’s the best.” Kevin beamed with hands deep in trouser pockets. “Not that you weren’t good too.”

Aiden wanted to jump in with some self-effacing humor about his stint working for Kevin and his investigation into Kyle Yoder’s death, but opted to leave it alone. Sarcasm was a lost art, he feared, and he was unsure if Kevin would mistake his joking for an affront. “I guess I was okay,” he said.

“So what brings you to town?” Kevin asked.

“I’m going to Mark Schrock’s wedding.”

“I heard about him getting married. When’s the big day?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Oh, right. The Amish always get married during the week.”

“I like Mark’s fiancée.” Aiden glanced at Carolyn. Wordy text from the computer screen reflected off her eyeglasses. “She’s a nice girl.”

“Mark was always a good kid. I’m sure he knows how to pick a wife,” Kevin said. “That’s important for the Amish, you know, since they don’t believe in divorce. Unlike me. Got two marriages under my belt.” Kevin and Aiden shared a chuckle.

Carolyn stood with a harsh screech of her swivel chair and stomped to the printer. She seemed to be waiting for copy to slide out. She lifted the printer and shook it a few times, as if it were made of Styrofoam, and set it back down. Her burly form disappeared into the back room, where her shadow lingered by the door.

“So how long you in town for?” Kevin asked with a wobbly smile.

“Just until after Christmas.”

“You staying with the Schrocks, like last time?”

“No, we’re staying at the Harvest Sunrise Inn.”

“We?”

“Well, I traveled in with Daniel, Daniel Schrock, Mark’s brother.” Speaking the truth to his former boss, an Englisher like he, came easier, and he did not see any reason to fib about whom he had traveled with and where he lived. “We’re both living out in Montana.”

“Really? I heard word Daniel had moved out there,” Kevin said, his grin solid. “So you’re living there, too, huh? You finally got that cabin in the woods?”

“Yeah, I finally moved into a cabin.” Aiden wanted to acknowledge he lived with Daniel, but out of respect for Daniel, he held back. No point in going into every detail of his personal life with his former boss anyway, especially with that taciturn woman present. He already sensed he had stepped into the middle of something personal going on between Kevin and Carolyn, something more pressing than newspaper business.

Kevin chuckled. “I used to laugh to myself whenever you’d tell me tales about wanting to move to the woods. I’m glad to see you made your dreams come true.”

“Thanks, it’s hard to believe sometimes. I love it. Although the snow is something to get used to.”

“I bet you’re isolated, in the middle of nowhere, hardly any contact with other people?”

“It’s not that rustic, but as close as you can get in today’s world, I guess.”

Carolyn stepped back into the front office, glanced at Kevin, and went to her desk, where she began typing anew, her face screwed with focus. Or was it annoyance? Aiden sympathized. When he’d worked there, he’d become absorbed in his stories and disliked distractions too. Plus, today was Tuesday. Deadline for the weekly newspaper was always Tuesday at midnight. He recalled the hectic hours he and Kevin had spent trying to keep a few paces ahead of the clock. Perhaps he was interfering and should leave.

“You want some coffee?” Kevin asked him, needlessly loudly, as if to make a production out of the offer. Aiden interpreted that to mean he’d rather Aiden not stay long enough to have any.

“No thanks, I have to get going,” he said, glancing toward the Santa Claus on the door. “I’m sure you guys have lots of work to do. I still have some errands to run, myself. Great seeing you again.”

“You too, Aiden. Thanks for stopping in. And tell Mark and his bride congratulations for me.”

“Bye,” Aiden said to Carolyn. She gave a cursory gesture with her fingers without lifting her head. Shrugging to himself, Aiden walked out onto the street.

Aiden figured something heavier than work had transpired between Kevin and Carolyn. The tensions of a complicated couple had been thick, like smog. In some ways, he delighted that even a heterosexual couple had to hide their love.

He snickered, thinking how Kevin had gone on and on about Carolyn’s wonderful attributes. The fine art of subtlety had always eluded Kevin.

Twice divorced, Kevin had nothing to conceal. But Carolyn? Perhaps she was embarrassed by the age difference. Kevin was at least twenty-five years older than she. He knew enough about small-town living. Even in Amish Country, things weren’t always as white bread as they appeared.

Climbing into the Suburban, he gazed through the office window. Were they arguing? Looked as if Kevin was trying to console Carolyn about something. They stood face to face, his hands on her sturdy shoulders, him looking into her downcast eyes. Stress from working in a busy newspaper office? Aiden supposed everyone had their personal dramas.

Chapter Seven

T
HE
morning of Mark and Heidi’s wedding, dozens of black buggies streamed along the blacktop lane abutting the Schrock farm. Buggy horses grazed in the snow-dappled field where, yesterday, Grace and David had spread out hay to keep the horses happy. More standardbreds nickered and snorted from inside the barn. Amish who lived close enough to walk dotted the lane in their Sunday best.

Aiden and Daniel had hiked in from the Harvest Sunrise, appreciating the mild December morning when temperatures hovered in the mid-forties. Most of the previous night’s snow had melted. They had even left their winter coats at the inn.

Daniel, decked in his nicest Amish suit, looked so handsome, so masculine. The black broadfall pants, stark white shirt, and black dress coat, nicely pressed by the solicitous maid at the inn, pulled tight around his sturdy frame and enhanced his natural masculinity. His black, wide-brimmed hat, offset by his dark beard, framed his striking features. Despite Daniel’s spruce appearance, a tightness wrenched up in Aiden’s chest. Here in Amish Country, surrounded by a wash of Daniel’s own people, Aiden stood out like a moose at a gopher convention in his go-to suit for special occasions—in fact, it was the only suit Aiden owned: olive green tweed two-piece.

“I’ll have to go to Mark,” Daniel said. “It’s my job as one of his newehockers to calm his nerves.”

That the best men and bridesmaids, or newehockers, in an Amish wedding must be single annoyed Aiden. Daniel was single, but only in the legal sense. In their world, they had made a commitment to each other. To Aiden, they were more united than any married couple.

He dreaded the idea of Daniel going. Yet, at the same time, he figured if they were separated during the ceremony it might be easier for them both. Daniel had been uptight around him. Perhaps a short time apart would salve their nerves.

“Guess I’ll talk to you after the ceremony.” Aiden watched Daniel amble inside the house. Alone on the lawn, he tried to wrestle with the sense of alienation. He waited a moment, mustering his courage, before heading inside. A surge of Amish ushered him through the front door.

The guests crowded onto the benches that faced the makeshift pulpit in the front hallway. Men and women sat on opposite sides of the rooms where yesterday Aiden and the others had pushed aside the furniture to make way for the benches. After leaving Kevin’s office, Aiden had trekked back to the farm to avoid the sting of guilt, knowing the Schrocks would want the extra muscle setting up for the wedding. Everyone had been busy baking, scrubbing, and unloading the Church Wagon of benches, songbooks, fold-out tables—everything needed for the wedding and reception. Few seemed worried about Aiden. They’d been grateful for his and everyone else’s hard-working hands.

Looking around the gmay, Aiden recognized few faces. The Amish had come from communities far and wide, traveling by bus, train, or English drivers from places like Iowa, Missouri, Indiana, and, of course, Texas, Heidi’s home state. Heidi had told him last night that weddings were traditionally held in the home of the bride’s parents, but since Heidi was from so far away, and she was going to move to Henry anyway, common sense insisted they hold the ceremony at the Schrock house. He spied one other Englishman, about seventy, in a pinstripe suit. A few women wore modern dresses and sat with purses snug in their laps. Perhaps they were English friends and neighbors or the English drivers.