by Alison Stone
Those she cared about most. The realization hit her hard, making her breath hitch in her throat.
That’s why she had kept her mouth closed all those years. Roger would never atone for what he had done to her. And revealing the secret now had only hurt someone she had grown to care about.
It was too late to make Roger pay and now she had wakened a sleeping giant.
A fist of panic tightened in her chest.
Christina dug her fingers through her hair. She wanted nothing more than to bury herself in her work at the clinic. Forget about all the bad events swirling around in her personal life.
Just like she always had.
Christina stood and went into the adjoining bathroom. Between the tears and the rain, she had definitely seen better days. She leaned toward the mirror and ran a gentle finger over the dark smudges under her eyes. Maybe she’d get a better night’s sleep here in her old bed without worrying about someone crawling through the window of her little cottage out in the woods. Or having her niece wake her up.
Then she remembered she wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight. Her job was to make sure Dylan was okay. And that made her feel really, really tired.
Christina dragged a brush through her hair and grimaced as it tugged through knots. Maybe Naomi, at least would have a good night’s sleep tonight. Christina had been relieved to deliver the news that her young Amish friend was not pregnant.
After receiving the good news, Naomi and Christina had had a little chat. The Amish woman had had a relationship with Aaron Webb, a young man at one of the wealthy homes where she cleaned. During her running-around days, she had become friends with several townies, including Cheryl. Naomi had been alone with the young man at the home she cleaned and she feared she had gotten pregnant. However, after a long, frank discussion with Naomi, Christina discovered that the young woman couldn’t have been pregnant. Her insular life had led to misinformation about the basics about the birds and the bees. One of which was what it took to become pregnant.
Naomi regretted going against her upbringing and the stress, no doubt, led to a disruption in her cycle. Poor sweet Naomi was repentant and maybe now she could get back on the right path.
Christina put the brush down and stared into the mirror, wondering if she’d ever find more to life than her work at the clinic. She quickly dismissed the thought and gave gratitude where gratitude was due.
Thank You, Lord. Naomi needed this second chance.
She hoped Naomi would take full advantage of her reprieve to live the life she aspired to. She had left the clinic with Cheryl, vowing she was going to go to the bishop and ask to start baptismal classes the first chance she got. Christina also suspected the young Amish woman would have to distance herself from her English friend, at least for now, possibly forever, to prove to the church leaders that she was committed to the Amish Way.
A knock sounded on her door and Christina rushed out of the bathroom to hear Franny’s voice on the other side of her closed bedroom door. “Hello, Christina?”
Christina opened the door and smiled. “Hi, Franny.”
“Sorry to bother you.”
“It’s fine. I hate to impose on you and Henry.”
“I’m glad you did.” Franny fiddled with the Precious Moments figurines on Christina’s dresser. Christina’s mother had purchased one for every occasion for her daughter. Many of them were delivered with flowers and a bouquet of balloons when her parents were out of town with a promise to really celebrate when they returned from a far-flung location. Christina always looked at them with a mix of love and nostalgia. She would rather have had her mom, not possessions.
But her parents were called to live a different kind of life, creating business start-ups and serving the less fortunate with their vast wealth. Parenting was low on their priority list. They made sure she and her siblings had a beautiful home, a solid education and loving caretakers, but they themselves were never present. Christina realized it could have been far worse. She had many blessings to be thankful for.
“Henry is going to the grocery store. We’re wondering if there’s anything you’d like?”
Christina smiled. “It really is good to be home.” She leaned over and brushed a kiss across her former caretaker’s cheek.
The older woman stepped back, tears glistening in her eyes. “Nice to have you home.”
* * *
Dylan leaned back on the couch and lifted his feet up onto the ottoman. He tried not to wince as his head throbbed with the effort. It was late, very late, but Christina had insisted they sit up so she could monitor his concussion. He didn’t want to give her any more reasons to fuss over him.
The fire crackled in the fireplace. The one thing that would have made the room more cozy was Christina sitting next to him and not over in the leather chair closer to the fireplace.
“When’s the last time you sat and watched the fire?” he asked, smiling at Christina.
She smiled back and blinked slowly. “Life’s been busy.”
“It’s amazing how the years roll by.”
Christina arched an eyebrow. “Waxing poetic after hitting your head?”
“I have a softer side. I don’t always show it.” His sarcastic tone suggested otherwise, he feared. Sometimes he had a difficult time shutting it off.
Christina made a sound, suggesting she was giving it some thought. He wondered what she had concluded.
“You know, when we met in college, I knew you came from money, but I never imagined all this. You’re loaded.”
“My parents are loaded.” Christina shrugged. “They have been very generous by paying for my education and supporting the healthcare clinic, but they made it clear when we were a young age that we could not ride on their coattails.”
“You did them proud.” Dylan stifled a yawn. What he wouldn’t give to catch some sleep right now, especially after the fantastic dinner Franny had made.
Pink brightened her cheeks under the glow of the fireplace. She waved him off, unable to take the compliment.
“How come you never brought me home to meet your parents?” he asked, eager to keep the conversation going.
“I suppose we didn’t date long enough for me to bring you home to meet them. That would have meant things were getting serious.”
“Fair enough,” he whispered, feeling the jab like a knife to the heart. “Fair enough.” He pulled his feet off the ottoman, rested his elbows on his thighs and leaned toward her. She was still far away from him across the room. “Have you ever brought a boyfriend home?”
Christina eyed him but she didn’t seem mad, she seemed amused, curious. “You’re chatty tonight.”
He rubbed a hand across his face. “Well, if you insist on keeping me up, we might as well talk about something.” He studied her carefully. “You didn’t answer my question.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t realize we were playing truth or dare. I’ll take a dare, then.”
“A dare, huh?” He turned his attention back toward the cracking fire. “I suppose it’s too late for games.” He blinked his eyes slowly. They felt gritty from lack of sleep.
He watched as Christina leaned back in the leather chair and closed her eyes. He knew enough not to tell her she looked tired, but she did. The recent events had weighed heavily on her.
“When do you have to be back on campus for summer session?” Her question surprised him because she hadn’t opened her eyes.
“Not for another week,” he said. “I’m glad I’ve been available to help you out.”
She opened her eyes and slowly turned her head toward him. “I appreciate it. And I’m grateful Georgia’s been able to manage the clinic. I’ve never been away from work this much.” She laughed, a tired sound. “She’ll be looking for a raise.”
“Being away from
the clinic is a big change for you.”
“Sometimes other things come up.” There was a fatalistic quality to her voice.
“Ah, and now I’m your job.”
“If that’s what you want to call it.” Her tone was hard to read.
Eager to change the subject, Dylan asked, “Did I detect a slight Pennsylvania Dutch accent in Henry and Franny? Well, not so much an accent, but in some of the expressions they use.”
Christina laughed. “Nothing gets by you. Yes, Franny and Henry jumped the fence, as they say. My parents hired them on full-time to help them make the transition. They’ve been here ever since.”
“Interesting.”
Christina turned to Dylan. “How’s your head?”
“Hard as a rock.”
She gave him a skeptical glare.
“And your arm?”
He stretched out one, then the other. The pain from earlier had subsided. “Arms are good.” He watched her intently, expecting her to contradict him.
“Good.” She pulled her legs up into a crisscross position in the leather chair. “Now what should we talk about?”
“I’m out of ideas.”
A quiet, tired laugh escaped her pink lips.
His chest grew tight with guilt. Christina was already exhausted and, because of him, she wasn’t going to get much sleep while keeping an eye on him because of his concussion.
TEN
“Christina, Christina!” Franny’s voice broke through Christina’s fragmented dream. She bolted upright and blinked her tired eyes, struggling to focus on the dying embers in the fireplace. A rustling sound drew her attention to Dylan sprawled out on the leather couch.
Christina muttered, “My neck.” Sleeping sitting up was no picnic. Tilting her head back and forth to ease out the kinks, she stared up at Franny, who was standing in front of her in her white bathrobe wringing her hands.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Christina, but you’ll want to see this.”
Panic washed over Christina at Franny’s frantic expression. The older woman was a rock, she didn’t fluster easily. “What is it?” Christina glanced over at Dylan who had shifted into a seated position, his hair tousled from sleep. She was relieved he was alert and hadn’t deteriorated as a result of his concussion.
Keenly aware of Franny standing in front of her wringing her hands, Christina walked over to Dylan. “How are you feeling?”
He furrowed his forehead and scrubbed a hand across his face. He had sleep lines on his cheek that touched her heart in an unexpected way. It made him look more vulnerable than she had ever seen him before, including after his accident yesterday.
“I’ve been better and I’ve been worse.” He tapped his head. “Told you I had a hard head.”
Christina nodded. “You should be out of the woods.”
“Dr. Christina,” Franny said, glancing repeatedly toward the kitchen, “You really need to see this.”
Unease threaded its way up her spine. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Dylan.
She followed Franny into the kitchen. A small drop-down TV was mounted underneath the white cabinets. A commercial with a man dressed as the sun played on the small screen.
With a fluttering in her stomach, Christina turned to Franny. “What is it?”
Franny grabbed the remote and hit the rewind button. Out of the corner of Christina’s eye, she noticed Dylan entering the room, his clothes rumpled. She didn’t dare look down at her own.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice gruff at this early hour. He ran a hand through his hair and tufts stood up at awkward angles. Dylan seemed too distracted to notice. Under other circumstances, Christina would have giggled, but the intense expression on Franny’s face had a sobering effect.
Dylan pointed to the small screen and Christina refocused her attention. Even looking at the distorted image in rewind, she recognized the imposing figure.
Her world slowed and her mouth went dry.
Franny, still pointing the remote at the screen, rewound to a certain point, then hit Play.
Christina squinted at the small screen and stepped closer.
A camera crew was set up in front of Apple Creek High School. A petite woman with a microphone in her hand was saying, “Sources close to the school report that Roger Everett, the new coach of the Apple Creek High School girls’ softball team and a member of the town council allegedly has engaged in inappropriate conduct with a young woman. We can’t confirm if the conduct was with a current student or a former student or someone in the community. We have a call in to Principal Acer who has yet to return our calls.”
The shot returned to the studio where a couple of newscasters started in on some happy chat. Christina swung around to face Dylan. “How did they find out?”
“Small town. Someone probably started doing some digging after my near miss yesterday.”
“Do you think they know I was the one who accused Roger Everett?”
“Tough to say, but someone alerted the news less than twenty-four hours after you went to the principal.”
Christina pulled out a stool at the island counter, its legs scraping against the hardwood floor. She planted her elbows on the cold granite countertop and dug her fingers through her hair. “I can’t believe this.”
Dylan sat down on the stool next to hers. “Maybe it’s meant to unfold this way.”
“I wanted to handle this discreetly. Roger has a wife and son...” She ran a finger across her chin. “I don’t want them to have to endure a public lashing.”
Roger’s wife and son were innocent in all this.
Christina covered her mouth and closed her eyes. She didn’t know where to go from here.
“This has to do with the near misses you mentioned last night?” Franny asked. “What did he do? You’re scaring me.”
Christina stood and touched Franny’s arm. “Maybe you should sit down.”
Franny shook her head. “I don’t want to sit down. Tell me.”
With a heavy heart, Christina shared her story of being attacked by Roger when she was in college and how, now, they suspected Roger might be coming after them to keep them quiet.”
“Why now?” Franny’s voice shook.
Dylan drew closer and rested his palm on the island. “An Amish girl was drugged on Roger’s property. Christina treated the young woman at the clinic.”
Franny gasped. “Did Roger attack her?”
“A Good Samaritan brought her to the clinic before whoever drugged her had a chance to assault her.” Christina drew in a deep breath, then let it out. “There’s no proof that it was Roger, but after I confronted him about attacking me, someone broke into my house, Dylan was nearly run over...” She let her voice trail off. She figured Franny had heard enough. “It’s as if he’s trying to prevent me from revealing his secret.”
“Call Nick. Roger needs to be arrested. Now.” Franny hustled over and snatched the phone from the base. “Call him now.”
“Nick is aware of the situation. But as of now, Roger’s been very careful. There’s nothing to arrest him on.”
Franny pressed her fingers to her cheeks. “This is horrible. Just horrible.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll touch base with Nick this morning just to make sure he saw the news.” Christina wrapped her arm around the woman who had pretty much raised her. “It’s okay. I’m safe. And soon Roger will mess up and he’ll be arrested.”
Christina just prayed no one was hurt before then.
* * *
Shortly after eating breakfast, Christina called into the clinic to check on Georgia, then Dylan and she decided to get some fresh air in the orchard behind the estate.
The blossoms had come and gone, and the first signs of fruit—apples and
pears—were forming on the branches of the trees in the orchard surrounding the property. Dark clouds gathered in the distance. Christina had grabbed an umbrella—this time a black one with a hooked handle from the umbrella holder in the front hallway. Dylan had grabbed his gun and tucked it into his shoulder holster, concealing it under a light jacket.
Dylan and Christina carefully picked their steps around the muddy patches on the ground.
“I can’t tell you how often I wandered around in these orchards. I made some big decisions out here.” Christina lifted her face to the morning sun, her long brown hair flowing down her back.
“It’s beautiful out here. I grew up in the city. The most trees I saw growing up were the ones the city planted in front of our yard, and every few years they died and had to be replanted. I always figured that was just a way of keeping the city workers employed.”
Christina laughed, an infectious sound, a sound he had missed. “You have a warped way of looking at things.”
“Realistic.” He stuffed his hands in his front jeans pockets and took a wide step to miss a mud puddle.
“Okay, Mr. Realistic, what do you think is going on here? Who do you think told the news we were up at the school?”
“Someone knew we were there. Someone tried to run me over in the school parking lot.”
“I was hoping it was a kid with a newly minted driver’s license who was afraid of getting a ticket. That’s why he didn’t stop after making you dive out of the way.” The edge of sarcasm in her voice wasn’t lost on him.
“Someone knew we were there.”
“And they thought they were gunning for me since you had my floral umbrella.”
Dylan nodded, not liking the sound of her theory, but he knew it had to be true.
“This has gotten out of control.”
Seeing the worry on her face, he stepped closer. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I’m not your problem.”
“I don’t consider you a problem.” He couldn’t keep the hurt from his voice.