The Search (18 page)

Chapter 23

“There's no strength where there's no struggle. My Mamm taught me that.”

S
HERIFF
M
OSE
K
RAMER

M
ore frightened than he'd ever been, even more scared than the first time he'd made an arrest by himself in the middle of a drug bust in a dark alley in Cincinnati, Luke prayed that Frannie was all right.

Seeing her through the window, he pounded on the door. “Frannie! Let me in!”

But she seemed frozen to her spot. Staring at him like he was a stranger, and a scary one at that.

“Frannie, it's me. Luke. Come on. I need to talk to you.”

Two blinks and a mental shake later, she had refocused. With precise movements, she unlocked the door and opened it for him. “Chris is meeting with someone. He had out his gun. Did you see him?”

“Yeah. His buddies from the DEA are here. I was pulling up when they arrived. When I realized he was going to need some time to brief them, I told Chris I'd come back here to see you.”

“You scared me something terrible.”

“I know. I'm glad you opened the door.” He smiled softly at her, hoping against hope that she'd be still so shaken up by his visit that she'd practically leap into his arms so he could comfort her again.

She didn't look like she was in a hurry do any such thing. No, right before his eyes, she began to distance herself from him.

“Why did you come over, Luke? Did you have more questions for me?”

“I suppose I deserve that. I came over to make sure you were okay.” Of course, the minute he said that, he felt like the biggest fool in the world. She had a team of armed DEA agents in her front parlor, and last time he'd seen her, he'd practically called her a liar and a suspect in his case. He'd also told her that they didn't have a future.

After he'd kissed her.

And—oh yeah—she was still recovering from her surgery.

“I am fine. You may go now.”

Though he tried to tamp his expression, he felt his eyes widening. No doubt showing Frannie how surprised he was. “I don't want to leave you yet. How about I stay here with you until the agents get organized? You don't want to do all of this alone.”

“That is not necessary.” Her voice was a little snippy. Curt. “Chris said he would protect me. One of his coworkers is going to come here so I wouldn't be alone.”

Chris would? A bolt of jealousy that was completely ridiculous came out of nowhere. “I'm staying.”

“No, Detective, you will not. It is not necessary.” And with that, she turned her back on him and traipsed out to the front room.

Luke stayed in the back as he heard Chris greet her, then introduce the other men on his team to her. As Chris began to explain what would happen next, Luke edged into the back of the room, nodding at the other men when they took note of his appearance.

Then Frannie looked his way once more. And right in front of everyone, she said, “Detective, if you have no other questions for me, I'd appreciate it if you would be on your way. It's been a long day.”

Conversation stopped. The three other men looked his way, all of them wearing expressions of varying degrees of amusement.

Yes, Frannie Eicher had effectively managed to put him in his place. With witnesses. There was nothing to do but leave, as she asked. “All right, Miss Eicher,” he replied, speaking just as formally as she had. “Thank you for your time.” They both knew he was saying goodbye.

Frannie nodded.

That was it.

One of the men a few feet away coughed—a not-too-subtle attempt to remind Luke to move on.

Looking neither right nor left, he walked to the door and let himself out. And noticed that the conversation resumed once he was out of the way.

Just as if Frannie had hardly noticed he was gone.

O
nly by thinking about bugs and snakes did Frannie keep her posture straight and her bearings tight.

Thirty minutes later, she met Jack, the man chosen to stay with her at the inn. “I'll do my best to keep you safe, ma'am,” he said.

“Danke,”
she said, before turning to Chris, who was standing at the door. “You're leaving now?”

“Yep. Thanks for everything, Frannie,” he said. “I am sorry about all the scares. I promise, if I could have prevented them, I would have.”

“I understand. You take care, Chris. May the Lord watch you and take care of you.”

Chris looked genuinely touched. “Thank you for that.”

“I will pray for you, Chris.”

The expression on his face—a mixture of gratitude and surprise—would have made her weep if she hadn't been able to relate to it so well. “Even if—” He stopped talking.

She knew why. Sometimes it was too hard to come to terms that an almost-stranger could care so much. She did the speaking for both of them. “Chris, I will pray for you even if I never see you again. You matter to me.”

“Thank you.” Carefully, he reached out and squeezed her hand for a second before dropping it. As if he was embarrassed—but why a man who was so tough would ever be embarrassed by such emotions was hard to fathom. “I won't forget you,” he said. “Or Beth. Please tell her that—even though I doubt she'll care. Would you?”

She smiled slightly. “I will.” Privately, Frannie knew that Beth would care very much that Chris planned to keep her in his thoughts. But it was likely that she would never confide in Frannie about that.

After he left, Jack stepped forward. “Ma'am, just tell me where you want me and I'll get out of your hair.”

Frannie blinked. For a moment, she'd forgotten that the other man had been in the room, watching and observing and listening. But as she noticed the same pent-up emotion that had surrounded Chris, she rubbed her palms—still tender from the cuts—along her sides. Then got to business. “Nonsense. I just took some fresh cinnamon rolls out of the oven. Why don't you have a few?”

“Oh, I couldn't. I mean, I don't want to take advantage of your hospitality.” But his eyes had lit up with anticipation.

“Sure you could,
jah
?” she said briskly, thickening her Amish accent a tiny bit. “I mean, you need to eat, so you might as well eat in my kitchen as long as you're here with me, right?”

“Right.”

She turned on her heel and was gratified he followed her into the sunny kitchen. Later, after Jack had eaten not one but four cinnamon rolls and then had taken himself up to Room 3C, Frannie sat down in her favorite chair with a sigh. Oh, but she was so tired.

So, this was how it was, she realized. She was destined to be an innkeeper. A woman who excelled at taking care of others, but had little luck taking care of herself.

She seemed to pick the absolute worst sort of man to fall in love with. First there had been Perry, who she'd hoped would change, if she'd only loved him enough.

But then it had become obvious that he hadn't loved her at all.

Now, of course, she'd practically thrown herself at Luke, an English detective, no less! She'd fooled herself into thinking that he had found something pleasing about her that had nothing to do with Perry or detective work. She'd imagined that when he'd looked at her cut-up face, he'd ignore the ugliness and remember how she looked when she was at her best.

But he'd let her know that his only reason for seeing her had nothing to do with friendship or love, but everything to do with his job.

He hadn't left her bed-and-breakfast because he'd thought staying there would be complicated for a couple that was inclined to flirt a bit. No, he'd moved because he had considered her a suspect in a murder.

Frannie only hoped and prayed no one else would ever find out how silly and juvenile she'd acted around the man. If they had, she'd be the cause of gossip and rumors for years to come . . . and she would have no recourse but to realize that she deserved every sly look and whispered comment.

She was deep in thought when she spied a shadow at the door. For a split second, her heart leapt to her throat. Then she recognized the slightly slumped posture.

And the black hat that was always slightly skewed.

Her father had come to visit.

Chapter 24

“Perhaps Perry and I could have come to an agreement after a time. Perhaps I could have learned to adjust to his restlessness and Perry could have learned to like who he was.”

F
RANNIE
E
ICHER

J
ust as the door slowly opened, Jack bounded down the stairs like an overeager Doberman. “Hold it right there!” he barked.

Her father practically jumped out of his skin.

And Frannie felt as if she was about to both laugh and cry all at the same time. “Thank you for your diligence, Jack, but this man is okay, I think. He's my father.”

Jack backed down, but his expression still looked like he was ready to do harm. “All right, but remember, I need to check everyone who enters, Frannie.”

“I won't forget.”

Her father glared at Jack. “Who are you? Frannie's doorman?”

“I'm just a guest.”

“Harrumph. More like yet another fancy detective, I'd say.”

“Daed, this is Jack. He'll be staying here for a few days, to make sure everything here is safe and
gut
.”

“Hard to imagine that you need such a person, Frannie.”

“We can't be too careful,” Jack said.

“Perhaps.” To Jack's credit, he stood tall and proud as her father looked him over like he was an awkward suitor who didn't stand a chance.

Frannie looped her hand around her father's elbow and tugged. “Come on, Daed, I have cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven on the counter. Come have one.”

As she'd expected, her father's interest peaked. “Any good?”

“They're terrific, the best I've ever had,” Jack said.

“That's probably not saying much,” her father retorted.

Frannie hid a smile as she once again led an uneasy man into her kitchen for sustenance.

This was turning into a mighty interesting day.

After serving him both a treat and a cup of coffee, she joined her father at the kitchen table and got to business.

“Why did you come over, Daed?”

“I wanted to check on you, of course.”

That would make sense if he'd done that before. But he never was one to pay her visits. Well, not unless she was in the hospital, she amended to herself. “I'm feeling better.”

“You still look a mess, daughter. You look tired, too. Have you been sleeping?”

Of course not. “Some.”

More gently, he asked, “When do you get your stitches out and the rest of the bandages off?”

Self-consciously, she touched the bandages still covering her brow. “In a week or two. I'll look at my checkout sheet. There are follow-up appointments.”

“Still can't believe one glass bowl did so much damage to ya.”

Frannie knew that rather quiet comment was her father's way of worrying. “God makes everything happen for a reason,” she soothed, hoping to calm his fears. “Perhaps one day I'll understand why I had to go through this.”

“I've never understood why the Lord plans things like he does,” he said, each word coming out slowly. Almost haltingly. “I've accepted His will, but I have to say I never understood why He took your mother so many years before me. It ain't been easy, living in that house without her.”

Frannie noticed that he was disappointed about being left behind more than her mother leaving earth early. The wording hurt a little, though she'd always known in her heart that her father truly resented making due without her mother's calm nature by his side. “I guess you'll have to ask when you get to heaven,” she said lightly.

Almost as soon as she said the quip, though, she wished she could take it back. That was just the type of comment her father hated. He took his faith seriously. And he took her mother's death to heart, too.

But to Frannie's surprise, he smiled slightly. “You can bet your last dollar that I'll do that. I've got quite a few questions for Saint Peter when I get to heaven.”

Thinking about her father's surprising comments, she was happy to sit quietly as he contentedly ate two cinnamon rolls and leisurely sipped his cup of coffee. As always, sitting with her father brought a sense of calm to her soul. She loved him without reservation, and knew that he felt the same way. Even though she didn't always do what he wished or wanted.

And even if he didn't always say the words of love or praise that she would like to hear.

“Kind of surprised to see that
Englischer
here,” he said when his plate was empty. “I would've thought you'd be ready for some peace and quiet.”

Briefly, she told him about Chris and the men they were afraid would be returning.

“Do you want to come back with me, child?”

“No, I am not going to let those men drive me from my home.”

He leaned back. “You're calling this place home now?”

“I think so.”

Looking her over, he commented, “I had thought that city detective would have been here instead. He certainly liked visiting you in the hospital.”

“Luke?”

“
Jah,
Luke. I may be old, but I got the feeling you cared for him.”

She wanted to lie, but she was too worn out for more dishonesty. “I did. But that doesn't matter. I don't think he felt the same way. And besides, nothing could have ever become of us.”

“Did you like him that much? To even think about a future together?”

“I did imagine that there would have been something between us. Even though it wasn't proper,” she said grudgingly. There was no need for her father to know that Luke had thought about it, too . . . but had cast their chance of a future together away.

“Who said your relationship wasn't proper?”

She looked at him in surprise. “Father, we are too different.”

“Are you sure about that? People change. I mean, look at you. Here you are, living with a policeman who is worried about a band of drug dealers coming to storm your house and business. If I had told you that this was in your future, you would have been mighty surprised.”

With a laugh he added, “And never would I have imagined that you and I would calmly discuss it.”

She couldn't argue with that. “You're right.” She sighed. “I think all this was God's way of talking to me, Daed. I mean, I need to get my feet firmly on the ground and begin to look at the man who is right near me.”

“Me?” He grinned. Making her giggle softly.

“No. Micah.”

He scratched his graying beard. “Micah has certainly been in your life for some time. That is true.”

“He's a very loyal man. And he did come see me at the hospital twice.”

“Yes, for sure, he has always been around.” With a sideways glance, he added, “Remember how he used to hover around you at singings?”

“I didn't know you knew about that.” Frannie was surprised. Never had her parents seemed to be too aware of who she'd kept company with at those singings. Even so, she wouldn't have thought of her father having any interest in her social life at all.

“Oh, daughter. Believe me, both your mother and I were well aware of what you did back in those days.” The skin around his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “And I have to say that watching young Micah hover around you like a sluggish hummingbird was a great source of amusement for many of us.”

Frannie knew it wasn't very nice, but she did enjoy that analogy. “Sometimes I simply wished he would land in a chair next to me and say what was on his mind.”

Her father's eyebrows rose. “Or, perhaps, fly to another woman?”

She tucked her chin. “
Jah.
Sometimes I did wish that.” Even back when she was a young teenager and Micah had first shown his preference for her, she'd felt awkward around him. She'd been torn between feeling lucky that a boy had singled her out and guilty for not being able to return his feelings with more enthusiasm.

“But your feelings have changed?”

They hadn't in many ways. But did romantic feelings even matter all that much? “They have to change. I have to learn from my mistakes.”

“Not liking or loving a person ain't a mistake, Frannie. God made sure that we'd all have a mate in life. If you don't feel love, then it's not meant to be.”

But obviously she didn't have good judgment when it came to love. “Daed, Perry was a bad mistake. And Luke . . . Luke was a terrible dream.”

“Perry was a good boy until he wasn't. It wasn't your fault you thought you could help him back to the right path.”

Her father's simple statement couldn't have been more true. She had liked a lot of things about Perry until he'd embraced a whole set of new ideas and changed. “That is true. God rest his soul, he wasn't all bad. He just made bad choices and his life was taken from him before he could repent.”

“Well said.” He cracked his knuckles. “And as for Luke . . . I'm not so sure what to think about him.”

“I didn't say he wasn't a good man. He is. But he is different than me.”

“Luke is different, that is true. However, he said a lot of nice things about you, Frannie. But more important than that, I think he understood you. And he liked you for you.” He cleared his throat. “That can't be underestimated, you know.”

Somehow Frannie was getting the feeling that her father felt like Luke was special because he had been willing to take her on. And she was starting to feel a little awkward, knowing that she'd shared so much with her father, the one person in her life who'd never seemed interested in sharing his feelings.

Well, at least until about an hour ago.

“Daed, I'm embarrassed that you spoke to him about me.” After debating whether to complete her thought, she added, “I wish you wouldn't have said a word about me.”

“I don't regret a thing.”

What? “Daed—”

“Listen, child. I know how I can be perceived.” He looked away, the words coming in chunks. “Sometimes my shyness, my awkward way with people . . . well, I know I can seem a little unconcerned. Distant.”

“I never thought you were indifferent.”

“Fact is, I admired the man for being unafraid of me.”

“Luke isn't afraid of anything—” She stopped herself in the nick of time, feeling embarrassed all over again. For a moment, she'd been ready to talk about Luke in a personal way. As if he was special to her. Like she meant something to him, which of course was not the case.

Would she never learn?

Annoyed with herself, she scooted closer to her father and curved her hand around his elbow. As always, his elbow felt bony under the washed cotton. He'd always been a little on the skinny side, not thick with heavy muscles like Perry. Or fit and lean like Luke. “Daed, you need to tell me what to do.”

“Child, you are too old for that. You need to decide for yourself.”

She loved how only her father could speak of her as his child, but being grown up, too . . . all in one sentence. She loved his trust in her. And because of that, perversely, she ached to lean on him even more. Even though for the last year or so, all she'd been doing was reminding him that she was too old to need him.

“Please, Daed?” she asked. “You need to tell me that I'll be happy with Micah. That he's the right choice for my future.”

“I can't do that. You will be the woman living by his side, Frannie.”

“But it was like this with Mamm, right? Didn't you have doubts about Mamm and you?”

“You sound like you want that to be the case!”

“Well, no. But maybe . . . yes.”

“I was anxious to marry your mother. I wasn't torn between two women.”

His voice was so gruff and stiff, Frannie felt her cheeks flush. Put that way, her actions were shameful. She should know what was in her heart .

As he watched her sort through her confusing thoughts, her father laughed. “Oh, Frannie. You'll always make me smile, that is a fact.”

“Daed—”

“The fact is, you don't need me to tell you a thing. You and God will make your choice soon enough.”

“It doesn't feel like it's going to happen soon.” She knew she sounded petulant, but she couldn't help herself. She was so tired of fumbling with her emotions. “I'm not very close to making up my mind, either.”

“I disagree. I, for one, would guess that you've already made your choice.”

“But . . . ”

“I am not the detective or the sheriff, daughter. You don't need to conceal the truth with me.”

She hung her head. “See how confused I am? At least tell me what you're thinking.”

He stared at her hard. For a moment, she was afraid that she'd been too flighty, that he was simply going to get up and leave and wash his hands of her. But finally, he spoke. “Micah is Amish. Micah admires you. He is a good man and hard worker. He will be a good father. A good companion.”

All of that was true. All of those reasons were accurate and correct. Her heart sank. Her father was leaning toward Micah, and she needed to wrap her mind around that and realize that he was exactly right. “So Micah is the one?”

Holding up a hand warning her to be quiet, her father continued. “Though Micah has many mighty fine qualities . . . I do not feel that he is the man for you, Frannie. And once more, I believe you know that.”

Her heart stopped for a second, then started beating again as pure adrenaline coursed through her. “Daed? Truly?”

He nodded. “Take it from me, daughter. Mourning a spouse ain't easy. But it would be far harder if I didn't feel that my marriage to your
mamm
was one of the best things that had ever happened to me. I have mountains of memories to hold close and keep me warm on frosty nights.” He paused. “Frannie, you do not want to marry a man who doesn't make you think that. And I don't believe that Micah makes you feel that way. Perhaps Luke isn't the man for you, right now, either. But one day he might be. Or, one day you will meet someone new who is your perfect fit.”