Peace (10 page)

“Penny,” Deborah reminded him. “The parrot's name was Penny.”

“How could I have forgotten that?”

“Because you didn't care for it, Jacob,” she said as she took a dainty bite of peppermint cream pie. “I think you tried to ignore her as best you could.”

“Penny was pretty, but he was an angry bird, too.”

“Penny was a
female
,” Walker said, laughing again. “That might be why she never cared for you, Jacob.” With a wink at his fiancée, he said, “Women don't like to be ignored, you know.”

“So, do you think I should try selling some animals?”

“Nope,” Lydia said.

“Truly?”

“
Jah
. It wouldn't be the same, Jacob,” Walker said, his expression now serious. “I fear it would only make your days harder. Making the store like your father's won't help things.”

“We need to make the store the right place for us, Jacob,” Deborah said softly. “Having animals without your
daed
wouldn't be the same.”

“Just give it some time,” Lydia murmured. “Things will liven up on their own. For what it's worth, my parents think you're doing a
gut
job. The shop has never been so clean and neat.”

That was something, Jacob supposed. But what if sales didn't improve? What if he lacked the charm his father had, and that was why everyone was staying away?

How was he ever going to prove that he was a good shopkeeper, even if he was never going to be the gregarious man his father was?

You mean
is,
his conscience murmured
. He still
is
that way.

He stewed on that as they finished their coffees, said good-bye, and then walked home on the shoveled sidewalks.

Yesterday's glimmer of sun was long forgotten. Thick clouds had rolled in, promising snow.

It was cold out. Maybe too cold to be walking. But with Deborah snug in her black cloak next to him, with her mittened hand curving around his elbow, Jacob was glad to have her company.

She made everything better. As did breathing in the fresh, pine-scented air and seeing the many lights and garlands that decorated the shops and houses they passed. When a buggy passed them, the horse's red harness festooned with tiny brass jingle bells, he grinned.

“What are you smiling about?” Deborah asked.

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about how fresh everything feels out here. It's cold, but there's something about Christmastime that makes me feel like there's hope in the world.”

Deborah squeezed his arm. “There is always hope, Jacob. I know it's hard, but try not to worry so much. Things will work out, I feel sure of it.”

“Really?”

“
Got
came to save us in the form of a tiny baby. If He can do that, why I bet He'll be able to help us do all sorts of things, too. We just need to believe. Faith is a wonderful thing.”

Jacob nodded, believing Deborah's words to have a lot of merit.

He just hoped he'd remember them in the middle of the night when he was lying awake worrying and sleep seemed as unattainable as a relationship with his father.

Chapter 9

Christmas cards hanging over the mantel make large rooms feel homey and festive. That's important in an inn, you know.

F
RANNIE
E
ICHER
R
EYNOLDS

“Chris? Chris!” Beth called out as she ran into the inn and climbed the stairs at lightning speed.

She heard a thump, followed by a door clicking open. And by the time she got to the landing, Chris was standing in the upstairs hallway facing her, gun in hand.

“You're all right. Oh, thank the good Lord,” she exclaimed.

He stepped closer. “What's wrong, Beth?”

“There's a black truck parked outside.”

Little by little, some of the panic that had been in his eyes cooled. It was obvious he'd been worried she was hurt. He relaxed as he slowly descended the staircase. “What did it look like?”

Whether it was because he was taking her seriously or because it looked like he had deliberately adopted a calm manner, her pulse slowed, too.

She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Well, um . . . like I said, the truck was a dark color.”

“You said it was black. Is it black?”

“
Jah
. It had dark windows, too. It's parked just across the street. I've never seen it before, either. Oh, Chris, I thought maybe they'd already come in here. I was so worried someone had found you!”

The corners of his lips lifted slightly as some of the gravity left his gaze. “Did you run in here to rescue me, Beth?”

Now she felt a bit of a fool—as if she could do a thing to truly protect him. “Maybe,” she allowed.

Those blue eyes of his warmed, becoming almost a true blue. “Thank you,” he murmured before turning and walking back into his room.

She was somewhat taken aback. She'd been ready to be teased, to be mocked. Instead, he was treating her like his equal.

And thanking her for looking out for him!

Feeling more empowered, she followed on his heels. “What are you going to do now?”

“Looks like I'm going to have to investigate.”

“Would you like me to go with you?”

“Definitely not.”

Remembering his stitches and the fever, she feared he wasn't in nearly as good shape as he imagined himself to be. “Are you sure?” she asked, then halted in his doorway as she watched him slip on boots and a coat. It was then that she'd noticed he had on fresh clothes. “You changed.”

“Yeah. After you left, I went out to my truck, grabbed my extra set of clothes, and even took a shower.” He rubbed a hand across his short hair. “I'm on the mend. Finally.”

“It hasn't been long enough. . . .”

“It has to be. Though that truck may be nothing, I want you to stay safe.”

When he checked his gun for ammunition and then turned back around, she felt her heart race. “You really do believe me. About that truck being worrisome.”

“Of course I do.” He paused. “Why would you think I wouldn't?”

She thought of the men she'd known before him. They wanted her to keep her feelings to herself. To not speak her mind. “I . . . I thought when you smiled, you might have been thinking that I was overreacting.”

“If I smiled, it was because you want to save me.”

“I know I'm not very big or strong. But—”

“No, no, it's not that. It's just that it's been a long time since anyone thought I was worth saving.”

That made her sad. She ached to question him about it, to ask him again about his family. To pry into his past. Surely a man as handsome as he had had his share of girlfriends? More than that, she ached to reach out to him, let him know by touch that he meant a lot to her.

But it certainly wasn't the time or place.

With effort, she tried to sound a bit detached. “What are you going to do, Chris?”

“I'm going outside to see what's going on.”

She was gratified he was taking her seriously, but now a whole new set of worries claimed her. “Chris, they might see you.”

“I bet they will.”

“But then they'd know you're here for sure.”

He started down the stairs. “If someone is parked outside watching the inn, they already know I'm here.”

His words were thrown over his shoulder, stated as if he hadn't a care in the world. “I think we should wait for them to knock on the door,” she argued.

“We?”

“
Jah
.” She followed on his heels, almost matching his pace on the stairs.

“I might have come here for shelter, but I certainly didn't come here to put you in danger. You are going to stay hidden.”

“But—”

He stopped just before they reached the entryway and turned to her. “Beth, if someone has come here to gun me down, they're not going to be knocking on my door.”

His jibe hurt. “I'm not a fool, Chris. I don't expect them to be polite. But perhaps you should be a little less obvious.”

They stood next to the front door now. Only a thick piece of wood separated Chris from people trying to hurt him.

As she gazed at his bruised face, at the way the skin around his eye was black and blue and swollen, she corrected herself: from the people who were trying to hurt him some more.

“I don't think you're thinking straight,” she said quickly. “Perhaps you have a concussion.”

He smirked.
Smirked!
“I don't.”

“Or your stitches? They could come loose. Maybe torn. I'm not that good of a nurse, you know. You could hurt my handiwork.”

He rolled his shoulder. “I'll be careful of my stitches.”

As he reached for the door handle, Beth couldn't resist grabbing his free hand.

When he glanced at her in surprise, she knew there was nothing to say but the truth. “I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. Please don't go out there, Chris.”

Finally, her words seemed to penetrate his thoughts. After a gentle squeeze, he pulled his hand from hers. But only to reach up and gently run the backs of two fingers against her cheek. “It's no wonder I can't stop thinking about you.”

She was spellbound. Not just by his touch, but by his words, too. No man had ever looked at her this way. Certainly no man had ever spoken to her like this.

Just as she gathered her courage to ask him about why he'd been thinking about her, they heard heavy footsteps on the sidewalk.

Followed, ironically, by a brisk, forceful knock.

Chris's eyebrows rose. “It looks like you were right,” he murmured. Staring at the door, he said, “I don't think Mose is back. This time, let's not take any chances. Go upstairs, Beth. Now. Go into my room, take the ladder up to the attic, and hide.”

She didn't know how he'd found that ladder. But she certainly didn't want to go up into that dark, cluttered room by herself.

She also didn't want to leave him alone. “But—”

He was still staring at the door. “Do it now,” he ordered in a tone that held no room for argument.

But still she did. “Chris, maybe—”

“I promised myself that no matter what happened, you would stay safe. Now go.”

Feeling like everything that she cared about was about to be pulled from her hands, she turned, hurried up the stairs, down the hall into his room, and then climbed up the rickety ladder that she pulled down from the ceiling. With a sinking heart, she made her way into the attic of the Yellow Bird Inn. As the blackness and the cold surrounded her, her fear heightened.

She was far enough away that she couldn't hear what was happening below. And because of that, she felt more alone than ever before.

All she could do was guess what was happening and try to be patient.

It was too dark in the attic to even see shadows. Too dark to do anything but kneel on her knees and pray. Pray for them all.

When the knock came again, this time the knuckles pounded the wood, making the wood shudder.

Chris waited another second or two more, just to be sure Beth had had enough to time to hide.

He felt curiously empty inside. He was out of options. All that really mattered was that he keep Beth safe.

And that, he realized, was the truth. His life had only one focus: Beth. It didn't matter that they weren't in an actual relationship. The point was that he cared for her so much that she was already in his heart. And, he realized, she would always be there. It didn't matter if nothing ever happened between them. She would be always be his, even if she never felt the same way.

With a renewed sense of conviction, Chris opened the door. And received the surprise of his life.

“It's about time you got your act together, Hart,” his boss said scathingly. “I've been standing out here looking like a vagrant, knocking on the door and freezing half to death. Do you have any idea how cold it is out here?”

“I'm beginning to get an idea,” he said as the frigid air fanned his cheeks. “Ryan, what are you doing here?”

Without being invited, his boss, all five-foot-nine inches and one hundred and seventy pounds of him, strode through the door with a fierce scowl. “What took you so long? I was about to shoot the lock! Who the heck did you think it was?”

There was no reason to lie. And every reason to defend himself. “Who do you think?” he asked as he closed the door behind Ryan and secured the dead bolt. “I thought it was Hager or one of his buddies who tried to kill me two days ago.”

Ryan grinned and briefly patted his arm in an almost tender way. “Just for the record, I am glad you're alive. The word was that you were in pretty bad shape.”

“I was. But I'm healing. So, why are you here? I was told to sit tight until December twenty-sixth. Has something else happened?”