Squaring her shoulders, Claire reached out, tucked a stray strand of hair back into place beneath Esther’s kapp, and then nudged the young woman’s chin upward until their eyes met. “One way or the other, you and Eli will be married this month just as you planned. You have my word on that.”
• • •
By the time six o’clock rolled around, all Claire wanted to do was go back to the inn, grab a pair of headache relievers, and disappear under her covers until morning. Yet when she pulled onto Lighted Way and turned east instead of west, she knew Esther’s words from earlier that morning had taken control of her evening.
Sure, on some level, she’d been keenly aware of Benjamin’s absence over the past few days, but she’d managed to stuff it to the side in lieu of things like helping Diane and worrying about Jakob. All legitimate concerns on their own, but none big enough to remove the handsome Amish man from her thoughts completely.
They needed to talk. Or, at the very least, she needed to talk to him.
Her destination suddenly clear, she drove into the quiet countryside, passing one farm and then another before turning left, the midsize sedan making the winding climb with ease. The covered bridge at the top of the hill vibrated beneath her wheels as she entered and then exited out the other side. When she reached the point where the road narrowed and wound into the woods, she pulled off to the side and parked beside the familiar horse and buggy.
Instinct had told her he’d be there.
Need had made her come.
Yet, as she unlocked the door and stepped from the car, a wariness settled around her like a formfitting coat, rooting her feet to the ground and making her scrutinize everything about her decision to come to a place that was his and his alone.
Less than a month earlier, he’d proposed leaving the only life he’d ever known in favor of a life with her, and she’d turned him down. Her reasons had been far more noble than she truly was, and she still stood by them, her heart be damned, but she’d hurt him, nonetheless.
Did she really have a right to be there? To fight for a friendship she wasn’t sure he even wanted?
She took in a breath only to release it into the air as she spied him through the waist-high prairie grass that shielded their special rock from the virtually nonexistent passerby. Even in the gathering dusk, she could make out some of the features that took her breath away every time she saw Benjamin Miller—the erect posture, the hint of the high cheekbones visible in his side profile, the dark brown hair that escaped from underneath the black hat he proudly wore. What she couldn’t see, her mind filled in via the memory of his piercing blue eyes and the sensation of his strong, callused hand on hers.
“I can leave if you need time alone with your thoughts.” He slid to the edge of the rock and stood, turning to face her as he did.
She wondered if he heard her gasp but decided it didn’t matter. Instead, she let her mind wander back to the late summer night when they’d sat together on that very rock and looked up at the stars. It was an evening she’d never forget, with a man she didn’t ever want to lose from her life. “No. Please. I came here to find you.”
He stood ramrod straight as she picked her way across the prairie grass to the very rock where she’d first begun to realize there was hope for a future after Peter. Looking back, there wasn’t one specific thing Benjamin said that first night that gave her back that hope. In fact, it wasn’t anything he’d said at all. Rather, it had been the fact that he had listened to her dreams and made her feel as if they were interesting and exciting in a way her ex-husband had never done.
When she reached him, she rose up on her tiptoes and planted a friendly kiss on his cheek then followed it up with what she hoped was a friendly smile. “It’s good to see you, Benjamin. I’ve missed you around the shop these last few days.”
She found a spot on the top of the rock and positioned her body so as to afford the best view of his face. “I know you are upset with me over the things I said about Mose the other day, but I also think things have been strained between us since that day behind my shop earlier in the month.”
“It is for the best. I know that now.” Benjamin’s gaze dropped to his feet only to lift to meet hers once again. “But I would have left. For you.”
She could feel the tears forming and did her best to hold them off. What they needed now more than anything was dialogue, not emotion. Dialogue would move them forward; emotion would hold them back. “Knowing that means more than you could ever know, Benjamin. And I will always treasure you for that. But I treasure you for so much more, too.”
“Yah?”
“Your friendship—the way you listen, the way you encourage me, the way we laugh—that has made such a difference in my life. I don’t want that to ever stop, Benjamin. Not ever.” She glanced upward and pointed just over his head and to the right. “It’s not dark enough to see just yet, but right there? That’s where I saw that star I wished on with you the first time you brought me here.”
“Yah. And you wished for a simple life surrounded by love and family.”
Her mouth gaped open as she stared at him. “You remember that?”
“It is that wish I tried to give you.” The huskiness in his voice tugged at her heart and almost made her hope that things could be different—that her convictions hadn’t been so strong and that her feelings could have been stronger. But they had been and they weren’t.
“I could not enjoy that wish if it was at the expense of someone else. You would not be whole without Eli and Ruth and your family. It would have affected that love in the end.” She forced herself to look back at the sky, to remember that first night and the conversation that had led to her wish. “That’s the thing about wishes, Benjamin. Sometimes they come true just as you wished them, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they take a better, different form than you thought and sometimes they come true only to slip right out of your hands”—she took a deep breath in an effort to soften the emotion she heard building in her voice—“while you’re not really paying attention.”
She felt him studying her and made a point of averting his gaze. Benjamin was sharp. If she looked at him now, he’d see the tears in her eyes.
Finally, he spoke, his words bringing an instant lump to her throat. “You told me you wished for your store. That is one wish that came true.”
“For a while.” She swallowed once, twice. “Until I messed it up.”
She shivered at the feel of his hand as he lowered the angle of her head until she was looking at him. “I do not understand. You enjoy your shop, no?”
“I love my shop, Benjamin. It’s everything I ever wanted and a million times more.” Just like that, the affection she felt for her job came rushing through her mouth. “I love talking to people who come into the shop asking about the Amish. I love helping them select a special memento of their trip to Heavenly. I love sitting in the craft room Diane has set aside for me behind the kitchen. Some days, when I’m not working, I lose myself in that room as I make my candles and experiment with new frames and wall hangings. I love coming to work and seeing the gorgeous items Martha brings in for me to sell. I love working beside Esther most days . . .” She stopped talking, the pain too strong to get through without crying.
“It is as I said before. Esther will still be your friend even after she marries Eli. You do not need a shop to be friends.”
Her laugh caught in her throat and emerged as more of a half laugh, half sob. “That’s good, because I won’t have my shop for much longer.”
He dropped his hand to his lap but kept his focus trained on her face. “I do not understand. What is wrong with your store?”
Suddenly, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. In a rush of tears that wouldn’t stay hidden this time, she unburdened herself of the secret she’d been carrying around for far longer than she cared to admit. “I’m running out of money.”
“Running out of money?”
Pulling her knees to her chest, she w
rapped her arms around her legs and fixed her gaze on the faint outline of a windmill she could still make out on Benjamin’s property at the base of the hill. “When I moved here, I had a certain amount of money in my savings account. In hindsight, I realize it wasn’t enough. I should have saved more before I opened the shop. But I really thought what I had saved, plus the money I’d make on the inventory, would be enough to keep it going.”
“It was not enough?”
She shook her head, slowly, sadly. “That nest egg has dwindled to almost nothing.”
“But people bring bags out each day. I see them when I drive by or stop to check on Ruth . . .”
“They buy bibs and Amish dolls and even some of my candles, sure. But the money I make after I pay Martha or Esther isn’t enough to cover my expenses let alone make a profit.” She released her legs and reclined back until the only thing she saw was the night sky. “On the rare occasion I have something like a high chair to sell, I make a little more money. But I don’t have enough of those large handmade items at any given time to really make a difference to the bottom line.”
“How soon?”
She turned her head just enough to see his face. “How soon what?”
“Before you must close your shop?”
“I had thought I could make it to the end of January, but now, with Martha unable to paint any stools or milk cans for me until after Esther’s wedding, I’m not sure I can make it that long, anymore.” She willed the stars to hurry up and come out yet knew even they couldn’t make a difference. “So, I don’t know . . . maybe the second week of January if I’m lucky?”
“Will you stay in Heavenly?”
That was the million-dollar question. The one that kept her up late at night, pacing. “I won’t live off my aunt for the rest of my life, Benjamin. I can’t.”
“Does Esther know?”
She bolted upright. “No! And she can’t! Please! She has much too much to worry about right now without that being added to the list. Especially when there’s nothing she can do to change things where the store is concerned.” She swung her body around to face Benjamin. “Please. Promise me you won’t tell her.”
“If that is what you want, I will not tell Esther.”
Slumping forward, she grazed his shoulder with her head before she realized her mistake and pulled back. “I’m sorry, Benjamin. I didn’t come here wanting to dump all of my problems on you.” She stopped, considered her words, and decided to recant. “Actually, maybe, on some level, I did want to tell you all of this simply because I knew you’d listen and not race around trying to fix the unfixable the way Aunt Diane or Esther would try to do. But I also came because I want to see how you are. To apologize for not seeing how Harley’s murder and talk of Mose’s suspected involvement might affect you. I hope you can forgive me for that.”
It was his turn to shrug. “You are not the only one who thinks Mose is guilty. Everyone in the district thinks there is a good chance he murdered. Even his family—Martha and Abram, and even Isaac—seem to think there is a chance. But I do not. I do not believe Mose could take a man’s life. Life ends when it is God’s will, not man’s.”
“You’re close to Mose, aren’t you?”
“Yah.”
“Was that from when you and Jakob were friends as young boys?” She drew her knees to her chest a second time and rested her chin there as she watched Benjamin.
“Yah. Jakob’s dat helped us catch frogs. One day, I showed him a small bridge I had built over Miller’s Creek.” He pointed toward the other side of the hill. “He said I did good work. I showed him more things I had made and he said it was good work. He taught me things I did not know, and I showed him new ideas. Mose Fisher is a good man even if you do not hear such things from his son.”
She listened as he talked about his relationship with another boy’s father, the reason for the true son’s hurt and anguish over that relationship suddenly crystal clear and even a little heartbreaking.
There were so many things she wanted to say—explanations for Jakob, understandings to foster along, pleas for two old friends to find each other again—but when she finally spoke aloud, her heart settled on the only one that mattered at that moment. “I wish I could tell you that everything with Mose will work out okay, Benjamin. But I can’t. What I can tell you is that the last person on the face of this earth who wants to see Mose charged with murder is his son . . . Jakob.”
“I do not know if I can believe that.”
“Do you believe in me?” she whispered.
The brim of his hat tilted upward as he took a brief glimpse of the sky. “Yah.”
“Then believe me when I tell you Jakob is tortured over what’s going on.” She swung her legs over the edge of the rock and jumped to her feet. “I better head out now, Benjamin. It’s getting late. Diane gave me the night off, but she’ll still worry if I don’t check in with her soon.”
He lingered in his spot for a moment, his eyes never leaving her face. Then, just as she started to move toward her car, he, too, got to his feet, his voice thick with emotion. “You would make a good couple.”
“Excuse me?”
“You. And Jakob. I see the way you smile with him. I see the way he smiles back. He would give you a good home and look after you.”
She wanted to shake her head, to dispute the words she knew were responsible for the pain on his face at that very moment, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. Because, deep down inside, she suspected Benjamin was right.
Chapter 23
It was a beautiful night whether sitting on a rock high atop the Amish countryside or swaying back and forth in a swing the way she was at that very moment. There was so much about her day, her week, her future that would have been better dissected with pen and paper while sitting at the desk in her room, but something about the night air and the peace and quiet of her aunt’s porch had won out for Claire in the end.
So what if she couldn’t pore over a black-and-white version of yet another pro-and-con list comparing a future in Heavenly to a future somewhere else? So what if she couldn’t doodle Mose’s and Patrick’s names in another part of her notebook in the hopes she’d crack the murder case wide open? Sometimes it was okay to feel instead of think.
Diane had taught her that the past nine months.
And as she herself had learned over the span of her life thus far, Diane was most always right.
There was no getting around the fact that on paper and pen, her best course of action was to start looking for a job in a place where jobs were easier to come by than Heavenly, Pennsylvania. She was fairly good with a computer, she had a good work ethic, and she got along with just about everyone she met. What, exactly, that qualified her to do, though, was anyone’s guess.
Besides, she didn’t want to leave Heavenly. She didn’t want to leave Diane and the new friends who’d unknowingly helped to make her whole again. And whether she was ready to explore the reason or not, she didn’t want to leave Jakob, either.
Heavenly was her home . . .
She turned at the faint sound of a click and blinked against the sudden burst of light that seeped onto the porch. “Diane? Is that you?”
“No, it’s me. Megan.” The pretty blonde stepped onto the porch with a folder in her hands and closed the door behind her as she did. “I was hoping that maybe I could borrow you for a second?”
Claire straightened her foot against the slats of the porch floor and brought the swing to a stop long enough for Megan to sit down. “Of course. Is everything okay?”
“I think so. But as I’m fairly sure you know by now, I like to talk things to death. I’d like to think it’s just because I’m a mom who wants to make sure she does everything right where her kids are concerned, but that’s not all of it. The rest is that I’m just type A and it’s how I handle everything in life. I go-go-go and I obsess over each and every go along the way.” Megan set the folder on her lap and shrugged. “And before you ask . . . yes, I exhaust
myself sometimes, too.”
It was hard not to laugh. Megan was definitely high-strung, but she was also endearingly honest when it came to admitting her faults.
“You’re still thinking about Serenity Falls, aren’t you?”
Claire didn’t need the sole porch light to see Megan’s cheeks redden. “No, not really.” Megan looked down at her lap and shifted the folder just enough to clue Claire in to the presence of a second, slightly different colored packet. “Okay . . . maybe a little.”
Reaching across Megan’s arm, Claire liberated the top folder from the pile and flipped it open. “Roaring Brook . . . That’s the one on this side of town, right?” She took in the colorful marketing brochure that featured a curbside shot of a quaint grouping of moderately sized homes.
“Keller and Sons has been building over here for years, from what our Realtor tells us. They’ve built a good, solid reputation for building good, solid homes.” Megan tapped at the floor plan on the right side of the folder Claire was viewing. “See that one right there? That’s the house we’ll build if we buy in Roaring Brook.”
Claire removed the floor plan from the folder and held it into the light. “Oh, Megan, this house is gorgeous. The kitchen is so spacious! And”—she squinted closely at the drawing—“that playroom on the second floor? It’s huge!”
“I know. The boys will love it.”
She eyed Megan across the paper. “So why are you hesitating?”
Bobbing her head to the left and then the right, Megan lifted a piece of hair from around Claire’s ear and made a face. “Hmmm . . . Is my husband coaching you on what to say through some sort of ear thingy or something?”
She laughed. “No. It’s just me.”
Megan sunk back against the swing and sighed. “I know this place is nice. I know this builder has been around for a lot of years and that much of his business is repeat buyers, which is good—great, even.” Her voice took on an almost monotonous tone as she recited reasons Claire suspected had been recited many times over the past few days, both in Megan’s head and to her husband. “I also know the boys would love the house and that we’d make a lot of wonderful memories there.”
Shunned and Dangerous (An Amish Mystery) Page 17