Peace (12 page)

He missed his parents. He missed his brothers and regretted not getting to know their wives. Most of all, he'd missed having a decent reputation. He was tired of constantly having to pretend to be someone he would never want to know.

Most of all, he had spent too many hours thinking about Beth. Wishing there was a way that they could have a real relationship.

Since those wishes were far from coming true, it was definitely best to push them aside. No good would ever come from sharing them with Beth.

“I'll see you later, Beth,” he murmured before going to his room, turning off the light, and lying down.

Only then did he close his eyes and let the tears flow. For Billy, for his failures, for his life.

And because, although he no longer felt like his sacrifices were worth the gains . . . he still didn't feel strong enough to give it all up.

Chapter 11

My mother used to say that it was far more important to be the right person than to find the right person. Good advice, that.

M
OSE
K
RAMER

As the hours passed, there seemed to be nowhere to go.

Beth stood in the middle of the inn's entryway, feeling the leftover chill from the door opening. Feeling the chill of Ryan's departure.

What a curious tumble of events had just occurred! In the span of only an hour, she'd been huddled, frightened half to death in the dark of Frannie's attic. Then Chris's unassuming boss had appeared.

For the first few seconds, she'd let her imagination get the best of her—she'd feared that Chris had been taken hostage and was helpless.

She'd been sure that it was going to be up to her to save the day!

Next had come Ryan's revelations. Her heart had gone out to Chris as she'd watched him attempt to remain stoic. Then, almost as soon as he'd arrived, Ryan had left.

But not before sharing the news that Chris would be on to another job very soon. And then? He would be gone from her life forever.

All that would remain would be a series of vivid memories and devastating feelings, all mixed up with the knowledge that she, too, would need to move on.

“And move on from what?” she mumbled to herself out loud. “You have no special relationship. Not really.”

If she ever confided in anyone, she knew they would tell her that she needed to accept their differences and move on with her life. She needed to look around at the men in her community. It was time to be married and start having children of her own.

She needed to accept her way of life and the place she would have in it.

And so what if she wasn't thrilled about her future? Being giddy and happy didn't mean much, not in the grand scheme of things. Being content was what counted.

Her mother had taught her that.

Her sweet mother had been dealt a hard blow but she never complained. Beth had never heard her ask why she had been the one to live most of her life in a wheelchair. She'd never seemed overly frustrated by the limits on her life.

Beth had a perfectly healthy body, and a good mind, too. She had a mother who loved her, friends who were genuine and caring, and a community that she thought was the prettiest ever.

She was a selfish girl to wish for anything more.

Feeling as if she were in a daze, she walked to the kitchen and put the kettle on to heat. Instead of busying herself in the kitchen, heating soup for Chris or attempting to bake bread, she sat and looked out the tiny kitchen window above the sink.

Frannie, in an obvious flight of fancy, had hung a piece of green garland over the sink and tied bright red ribbons on the ends, and it sent a faint scent of pine into the kitchen. The touch of Christmas in the warm kitchen was very like Frannie.

When the whistle of the kettle blew, Beth got to her feet and made some orange-cinnamon tea, then sat back down and watched it steep.

And realized that tomorrow was Christmas Eve. She had nothing prepared for the meal and she had no gifts to wrap or to look forward to. Furthermore, she'd sent her mother away to be with her sisters. All because Beth had chosen to remain by a dangerous man's side. A man whom she'd never see again after a few days' time.

The day was sure to be a bittersweet one.

And then she looked at the phone and realized that there was one thing she could do.

It would likely win her no favors with Chris. He might even be very upset with her. But she knew that if she tried hard enough, she could figure out how to give him a special gift on Christmas Day.

That is, if she was daring enough to do it.

Leaving her mug, she picked up Frannie's cell phone and dialed information. And when the operator answered, Beth made her decision. “I am wondering if you have the number for the Hart family of Lexington, Kentucky,” she said. “Hart is spelled h-a-r-t. Like the deer, you know.”

“One moment.”

And then, she was being connected. There was no turning back.

“Jacob, we are going to be so busy tomorrow,” Deborah said as they put away the delivery of bread that had just arrived.

He paused his careful stacking of rolls. “Only in the evening, right?”

Though he wasn't all that excited about it, he had told her that he'd be willing to share Christmas Eve dinner with her parents. Things between them were still strained, and he imagined they always would be.

But if they were willing to move forward, he certainly could, too. He'd do anything for Deborah, but he didn't want to be there all day!

As she wiped down a tabletop, Deborah murmured, “Don't forget, we also said we'd visit Walker and Lydia in the morning.”

He looked at her curiously. Something was on her mind, and it wasn't their Christmas Eve schedule. “I am looking forward to seeing them. It's for brunch, yes?”

“Jah
.
”

“Well, it will be a lot of eating, but it shouldn't be too busy, Deborah,” he said with a smile. “Since the store will be closed, I might even take a nap in the middle of the day.”

She stopped her wiping and looked in his direction. “Well, I hope it won't be too much activity, because”—she paused and bit her lip—“well, Jacob, I asked Sheriff Kramer to take us to see your
daed
on Christmas day.”

He froze. “You did what?”

“I stopped by his office to talk to him about visiting hours and such. He said he'd be happy to take us.” Not meeting his eyes, she said, “It's all arranged.”

“I think not.”

“You need to visit your father, Jacob. You'll regret it if you don't.”

She was probably right, but he wanted to do this in his own time. “Deborah, I'm not ready.”

Looking resolved, she shook her head. “That is why I took things out of your hands. Mose and I already called the prison to let them know that we would be coming up to see your father. And I'm not going to back down, especially since Mose was so kind as to offer to take us on Christmas Day of all days. Oh, Jacob, what a gift that will be to your father!”

“It's a gift I'm not ready to give!” Though he hated raising his voice, the frustration—and fear—he was feeling overruled his best intentions. “Deborah, you have overstepped your place.”

“Don't yell. I'm doing this for you, Jacob.” More quietly, she added, “For us, too. Before you know it, the visit will be over. You can see how you feel then. But it's important to take this first step.”

“What if it doesn't go well?”

“Then at least you'll have visited. Jacob, I love you, and I want to be a
gut frau
. I try to follow your advice on most everything. But this time, you need to trust me to know what is best. And you need this. You need to see your father and find some peace more than anything.”

Though his teeth were practically grinding, he knew she was right. And though he didn't expect any miracles, he knew that the sooner he crossed this bridge, the better. “Fine.” Somewhat roughly, he set down the last of the loaves of bread on the table. He turned around, “But Deb—“

“You don't need to say anything, Jacob. I don't care what happens now.” She grabbed his hands and gave them a squeeze, her warm eyes saying everything she wasn't.

Her gesture humbled him. She loved him so much, she was willing to risk his anger to do what was right. She was willing to visit a prison on Christmas Day.

“So, Mrs. Schrock, have you already made us plans for this evening, too?”

A new light entered her eyes. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

He braced himself. “And what are we going to do?”

“Have a nice supper here at home. Just the two of us.”

“Really?”

“Well, we are newlyweds . . . I think it will be
wunderbaar
to be alone with you on the eve of Christmas Eve.”

“Now that is something we can agree on.” He leaned close and kissed her cheek.

Laughing, she pushed him away as a pair of customers walked in. “You mustn't be kissing me in the middle of our workday. Now, off you go. Go help those folks. I have the rest of these rolls to organize. And a special supper to make.”

Smiling at her enthusiasm, he greeted the women who already had shopping baskets in their hands. “May I help you?”

The older of the two shook her head. “Thank you, but we won't be long. We had to pick up a few last-minute Christmas gifts.”

“My sister and her family were able to make it here for Christmas after all,” the other woman added. “Isn't that just like it always is? No matter how prepared one is for the big day, something unexpected always occurs.”

“I've had a few unexpected surprises myself,” Jacob murmured.

The older lady placed three Amish dolls and a box of cookie mix into her basket. “But that's what makes this season so
wonderful-gut
, don'tcha think? Christmas truly is a time of blessings . . . and wonderful surprises.”

“I couldn't agree more,” he murmured as he walked slowly back to the counter. Christmas truly did bring them all some surprises . . . and a reminder of their blessings, as well.

Chapter 12

Do you ever wish things were different? I used to.

B
ETH
B
YLER

Could ten seconds ever feel longer? Beth's pulse raced and she kept glancing over her shoulder, afraid she was being spied upon.

On the other end of the line, the line clicked as the operator connected them. Then the rings began. One. Two. Three . .

Four.

What she was doing was wrong. Chris's private life was none of her concern. He certainly wouldn't thank her for meddling. What she should do was hang up.

Ring number five. She held her finger over the button, ready to end the connection . . .

“Hello?” The voice was brusque but friendly. Out of breath.

It was now or never. “Yes. Hello?”

“Yes?” The lady sounded more impatient now. Like she was about to hang up.

“Is this the Hart residence?”

“Yes? May I help you? And listen, if this is a telemarketer, I'm on the do not call list . . . ”

Beth had no idea what kind of list that was. All she did know was that she'd better say something meaningful, and quickly. “I'm calling about your son.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Which one? Is something wrong? Did something happen?” she blurted, her voice now sounding nervous. “And who is this?”

“My . . . My name is Beth Byler. I'm calling about Chris.”

“Chris?” The woman's voice seemed to rise a whole octave. “Oh my gosh, Chris. Hold on.” There was a rustle and a clatter as the receiver was set down, followed by a muffled call. “Tim! Come here quick.”

When the woman got on the phone again, Beth had finally composed herself. It was strange, but just knowing that she'd called the right house and was actually speaking to someone who cared about Chris, too, put her at ease. “Is this is his
mamm
?”