Standing up, her sister gave her a hug. Katie hugged her back, feeling a sense of hope and warm happiness in the air. Boy, did it feel good. Stepping away, she said, “I’ll help you fix up the couch now.”
“I can do it.”
“I don’t mind. After all, I’m going to be an innkeeper. I might as well get some practice,” she joked as she walked upstairs to the closet in her bedroom. There were plenty of extra towels, sheets, and blankets in there.
June followed her. “Hey, Katie? You know, I just realized that I never asked what you’re going to call this place.”
Pulling out a set of sheets and a thick thermal blanket, she shrugged. “I haven’t even thought about names. Do you have any ideas?”
As they walked back downstairs, June said, “Maybe, but it’s kind of odd.”
Katie set the linens on the couch. “I’d like to hear it anyway.”
“How about The Loyal One?”
“What? The Loyal Bed and Breakfast?”
“I was thinking The Loyal Inn,” June said. “I really like it.”
“Why?” It sounded awfully strange to her.
June picked up a sheet, shook it out, and then started tucking it into the cushions. “Because it reminds me of you, Katie. All your life, you’ve been loyal to this family, to your friends, to our mother, even to our religion. And now you’re even loyal to this house. You’re making it have new life but still honoring our family, like putting Mommi’s recipe cards on the walls.”
Feeling flustered, Katie grabbed the other sheet and smoothed it on top of the one June put down. “You’re giving me too much credit. All I’ve been doing is trying to get through every day.”
June smiled softly. “That may be true, but guess what happened?”
“What?”
“You still remained true. That, I think, is something pretty special, Katie. Something just like you.”
June’s words rang in her head as Katie climbed the stairs again a few minutes later—her words about the house and being loyal, their words about still loving each other even though they’d been far apart.
Later, as she fell asleep, she allowed herself to remember Harley’s sweet declaration and the way she’d melted into his arms when they’d kissed.
That’s when she realized that she wasn’t the only one being loyal. Her friends were, too. And so was God. After everything that had happened, He was still there, by her side. Making her world better.
Maybe He was the real “loyal one.” And if so, then June was right, there was no better name for her B and B. It was perfect.
THIRTY−SEVEN
“Andy . . . well, Andy had been right. Sometimes it don’t matter what happens when you go on an adventure. What matters is that you do it at all.”
Looking up at the sky, Harley whispered, “Thanks, Andy. I needed to remember that.”
OCTOBER
“Watch the steps, now. They can be a little steep at times,” Katie Lambright called out as she led the way up to the second floor.
“They’d have to be steeper than this to be a problem, dear,” Mrs. Jackson said with a laugh. “But honestly, the iron banister is so pretty, I have to keep reminding myself to concentrate on the steps.”
“Don’t worry, Katie,” Mr. Jackson said with a chortle. “I’ve got her elbow. She’s safe.”
When she got to the upstairs landing, she smiled down at them. Sure enough, the elderly couple didn’t look like the flight of stairs was bothering them in the slightest. She was glad of that. Sometimes her guests said they didn’t mind stairs, but they did.
When Mr. and Mrs. Jackson reached her side, she led them to the April room, formerly known as June’s bedroom. “Now, I’ll just let you in, show you a few things, and then leave you in peace.” And with that, she pulled out the old-fashioned key that she and Harley had once argued about and unlocked the door.
“Oh!” Mrs. Jackson said in a near whisper. “Katie, this . . . this room is absolutely breathtaking.”
“I’m glad you like it. I hope you will find it comfortable.” As she liked to do, she stood to one side and simply watched her new guests admire the room’s pale periwinkle walls, the intricately designed and stitched wedding ring quilt in pale yellow, the cozy love seat upholstered in a cheerful floral pattern, and even the gleaming white woodwork around the twin windows that faced the front of the house.
Pointing to the door on the right, she said, “In there is your private bathroom. There are soaps, lotions, and a few other items to make your stay more pleasant.” Opening up the small cabinet situated in between the windows, she showed them the bottles of water, bucket of ice, and door hanger. “We deliver coffee to your room in the mornings. If you care for any, just leave the filled-out form on your door by eight o’clock at night.”
Mr. Jackson nodded. “Everything looks good. Perfect, actually. We’ve been looking forward to staying here at The Loyal One from the moment we first heard about this B and B. As soon as we read the article highlighting it in Ohio Magazine, we got right online and made the reservation.”
“Having the magazine write such a nice review about this place has been a blessing.”
“It was also accurate,” he replied. “So far, you’ve surpassed our expectations.”
“That makes me happy. I’ll do my best to continue to make you feel that way.”
“I’m sure you will, dear. We’re glad you opened this place.”
“Me, too.” Smiling at Mrs. Jackson, who was now seated on the love seat, she said, “If you need anything, call down to the front. Otherwise, I wish you a good afternoon.”
Just as she was walking out, he said, “I’m curious. How did you come across such a beautiful old house? We’ve often talked about opening something like this one day, but places like this are hard to find.”
“Oh, locating this place wasn’t difficult at all. It was my home, you see.”
“Really?” Mrs. Jackson said. “Was this your old room?”
“Oh, nee. My room was down the hall. This . . . this was my sister’s.” Edging to the door, she waved a hand. “I’ll be on my way now,” she murmured.
She doubted either of them heard her, however. Mr. Jackson had his arm around his wife’s shoulders and was whispering something into her ear. After closing the door quietly behind her, Katie headed back down the stairs.
Harley was standing in the foyer, looking up at her. “How did it go?”
“Oh, fine, I think. They liked the room.”
He walked to her side. “Then why don’t you look happier?”
“It’s nothing. They asked whose room in my family it used to be and it brought back a lot of memories.”
Looking solemn, Harley stared up at the empty stairs, then reached for her hand. “Let’s go sit outside on the stoop.”
“Harley, I should be around in case they have any questions. And you know how guests can be.”
“Oh, jah, I know. They are always full of questions. Still, I reckon they’ll be able to survive without you for a few minutes. Come spend a few minutes with your husband.”
Her husband! They’d been married all of two months now, and to her embarrassment, she was still the definition of a blushing bride. She now hated to be apart from him for more than a few hours at a time.
The rest of the Eight were mighty amused.
Giggling, she reached for the door. “You know I can never say no to that.”
“I was counting on it.” Just as she was about to sit in one of the white wicker rocking chairs, he shook his head. “Nee. Let’s sit on the steps.”
She did as he bid, but she was confused. “Harley, why do you want to sit here?”
“Because this is where you were sitting when I realized that we weren’t just friends, we were meant to be more than that.”
A lump formed in her throat. “Harley, I know I told you that I’m glad you’re sharing your feelings more, but during moments like this, I hardly know how to respond.”
&nbs
p; He stared at her in surprise, then slowly smiled. “Now isn’t that something, Katie? Here, I thought I knew everything about you, but I’m still discovering new things.”
“Such as?”
“Well, now I know two ways to make you speechless.”
“Oh?” Her lips twitched.
He leaned closer. “Oh, for sure. I know now that if I need you to be quiet, I can either tell you pretty words . . .”
“Or?”
His sweet smile broadened into a grin. “Or I could kiss you, of course. That’s my favorite way.”
She shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Nee, Katie. I’m yours,” he said, just as he kissed her right there on the steps of their very own bed-and-breakfast, maybe even being observed by their new guests from their window.
However, Harley had been right. She didn’t care in the slightest.
Really, not at all.
Don’t miss the next heartwarming installment in The Walnut Creek Series
THE
PROTECTIVE ONE
Coming Spring 2020 from Gallery Books!
ONE
JULY
There were more fireflies dotting the fields around her house than Elizabeth Anne could count. But still she tried.
She’d once read that people used to believe wishing on them, like the stars, might make dreams come true. She’d always thought such a notion was foolish.
After all, everyone knew nothing of worth ever happened by lazing about or daydreaming. The only way to accomplish goals was to adopt a hard work ethic and use the brains that the good Lord gave you.
But lately?
Lately, Elizabeth Anne was beginning to think she’d been going through life a little too resolutely. Perhaps she would be happier if she took more time to daydream and count fireflies instead of only check off tasks that she’d accomplished.
Sure, she’d had goals and had reached them and loved her to-do lists as well. But she was beginning to realize that completing tasks didn’t make her feel all that satisfied.
Shouldn’t there be more to life than satisfaction?
She was starting to think so.
She was a twenty-three-year-old Mennonite woman, had a job at the fabric store that was rather boring, and was anticipating a proposal any day from a man who had never made her pulse race or her heart sing.
None of this made her feel good.
But maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t that kind of woman? Were some women simply more romantic and apt to blush and fuss more than others?
“Elizabeth Anne, you’ve sure been quiet for a while,” David blurted. “Is everything all right? Are you ill?”
“Ill? Oh, nee.”
Folding his hands over his chest, he sighed. “Well, then . . . what have you been thinking about? You know it’s only proper for you and me to sit on the porch swing together for thirty minutes. We should make the most of our time.”
She almost rolled her eyes. Because that, she feared, was the problem. Here they were, a courting couple sitting alone on a porch swing on an early summer evening. The air was warm and comfortable, fireflies were twinkling in the distance, and the faint scent of honeysuckle floated in the breeze.
No one else was around, and even if someone were, no one in her family would so much as blink if David had his arm around her shoulders. Or if they were kissing.
But they were not. More important, they never did cuddle or kiss or whisper sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Not ever.
“Oh, David.” Looking at handsome, wholesome David, with his brown hair, brown eyes, full cheeks, and rather thin lips, E.A. wished yet again that there was some kind of spark between them. “I was just looking at the fireflies.”
“What about them?” He turned his head to stare out at the soybean field that seemed to go for miles on either side of them. Hundreds of fireflies were dancing and sparking among the rows. The sight was beautiful. Mesmerizing.
“I read once that people used to make wishes on them,” she said softly, hoping that would spark a bit of whimsy in their conversation.
He wrinkled his nose. “Wishes?”
“Jah. You know, like stars.” When he still gaped at her, she cleared her throat. “Do you think that’s true?”
Looking back at the field again, he shrugged. “I have no idea. Honestly, Elizabeth Anne, I’ve given up trying to understand why other people do the things they do.”
Elizabeth Anne. David always called her by her full name. Never E.A. like her best friends, who were better known as the Eight. Even her family called her E.A. on occasion.
But David never did.
Thinking about that, about how he didn’t see anything in the distance but a bunch of bugs, she pressed her lips together. “Hmm.”
His voice sharpened. “Come now. You know I’m right. Why, lots of folks do strange things, things that people like you and me couldn’t begin to contemplate.”
“I guess that’s true,” she replied, though she wasn’t sure if his statement actually was true. Especially since she was currently contemplating all sorts of interesting things right at that moment!
Looking at the fields again, E.A. ventured, “You know what? Maybe we should play a game.”
“Out here in the dark?”
She giggled, though he wasn’t so much as smiling. “David, how about the two of us make some wishes right now?”
“Um . . .”
“Come on, it will be fun. I mean, look at all those twinkling lights! Why, it looks like Christmas in July. Don’t you think that tonight is the perfect night to make a wish or two?”
“Nee.”
“No?” That was it?
“Elizabeth Anne, you and I both know that no good ever comes from making wishes that can never happen. It’s best to concentrate on what is possible.” Before she could comment on that, he continued, just as if he was full of bright and interesting ideas. “That’s what I’ve always admired about you. You don’t waste your time dreaming about things that could never happen for a girl like you.”
“Like me?” Why did that not sound very flattering?
“Jah.” He waved a hand. “Or, you know, give into your weaknesses.” While she gaped at him, he nodded. “Or contemplate selfish acts.”
“Selfish acts?” That sounded awfully confusing and old-fashioned. “David, what in the world are you talking about?”
“You know who I’m thinking of.”
His voice and his look were pointed. She shifted uncomfortably. “No, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I do.”
David pushed off the swing and stood in front of her. “Come now, Elizabeth Anne. You know that I’m talking about that man.”
“Which man?” She was becoming exasperated.
“That man you used to know,” he said impatiently. “Andy Warner.”
He was speaking of Andy? A chill ran through her. Wrapping her arms around her middle, E.A. took a deep, fortifying breath. Anything to stop the sudden rush of tears that had just filled her eyes. “David, Andy was my friend, not just some man I used to know.” Actually, he was so much more than that. The Eight’s leader . . . their instigator. At times, her very own protector. Andy had been loud and handsome and caustic and so very kind, too. He’d been a jumble of emotions.
And he’d also killed himself last summer. And though it had happened almost a full year ago, Andy’s loss still hurt.
Propping his hands on his hips, David looked at her directly. “Well, Andy Warner might have been your friend—”
“No, he was. Andy was a great friend.”
He grunted. “All I’m trying to say is that he must not have felt the same way about you.”
Elizabeth Anne gaped at him, shocked. “Why would you say that?”
“Come now. He killed himself. That’s the most selfish act a person can do.”
“You don’t know that.” One, two tears slid down her cheeks. “Don’t say that.”
“All I’m saying is that no man
who cares about his friends, who really cares about his friends, would take his own life.”
His words stung, as did the implication that David could summarize everything about Andy in one or two careless statements. “You need to stop. You didn’t know Andy. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He stood up straighter, almost as if he were a parent delivering a lecture and she were the recalcitrant child. “I’m sorry if my words made you upset, but you know I’m right, Elizabeth Anne. I’m just pointing out the truth.”
“No, you’re spouting off your wrong opinion, David.” Getting to her feet, she said, “I think it’s time for you to go.”
But he didn’t budge an inch. “Are you really going to get upset with me about this?”
Yes. Yes, she was. In addition, she was going to get upset with him about a lot of things. About the way he timed his visits. And only called her by her full name. And never tried to get to know her other friends. Or held her hand.
But most of all, she was going to make him leave because he always acted like she never deserved anything better.
“Jah,” she said finally. “I am going to get upset with you.”
“I see. Well, then, I guess I should be going.” He walked down the front steps. “I certainly hope you will be in better spirits when I come calling on Saturday night.”
A quick vision entered her head—a vision of the two of them sitting on this blasted front porch swing again and again. Never doing anything but talking about the weather and their jobs. Never noticing the fireflies. Never being anything more.
She couldn’t do it.
“David, don’t come back on Saturday night. In fact, I think it would be best if you didn’t come back anytime soon.”
“You’re going to stay mad at me for that long?”
“No. I’m going to finally move on. Good night,” she called out over her shoulder. “Good night and good-bye.” Still fuming, she strode inside.
“Has it been thirty minutes already?” Daed asked as Elizabeth closed the door firmly behind her.
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