by Alison Stone
“Whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful, too.”
“I have homemade chicken pot pies in the oven and I just finished mashing the potatoes. I learned how to cook as a child, but I haven’t made some of my favorite meals in a long time.” Ever since she had left the Amish, she had been exploring new things. She had lost sight of her past. No more. Leaving the Amish didn’t mean she had to abandon her roots. “I was putting together a salad, but you caught me before I finished.”
Harrison followed her to the kitchen while she pulled a vase out from under the counter and filled it with water from the utility sink. He went over to the kitchen sink and washed his hands, then picked up the cucumber. “Slices okay?”
“Um...” Becky jerked her head back. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to do that. I like cooking.” He slid a sharp knife out of the butcher block. “This okay? On the cutting board here?”
“Sure.”
While Harrison sliced the cucumbers and then the tomatoes, Becky poured lemonade and put the rest of the food on the table.
The doorbell rang and Becky glanced at Harrison as if he might know who was stopping by. She hustled to the front door, surprised to find her mother standing there.
“Hello, Rebecca,” her mother said.
“Um...” Confusion swirled in Becky’s head. She looked past her mem to find her dat sitting in the buggy, reins in hand.
“I didn’t mean to stop unannounced.” She shoved the bundle in her hand toward her daughter. “I thought you might like this for your home.”
Becky glanced down and recognized the deep greens and soft yellows of a quilt she had started as a teen. The back of her nose tingled. She had left home before she had a chance to complete the project. She fingered the finished edges, then met her mother’s steady gaze. “I hope you don’t mind,” her mother said. “Mag and I finished it for you. We thought you might like it in your home. Soon, the nights will be getting colder.”
Becky hugged it to her chest. “Yes, thank you.” Her mind drifted to the soft green she had used to paint her bedroom. “It will match my bedroom perfectly.”
“Gut.” Her mother dipped her head shyly.
“Would you like to come in?”
Her mother quickly shook her head. “No, your father and I are on our way home. Mag and Abram are expecting us.” She turned to walk away, then turned back around. “Perhaps another time.”
“Yes, perhaps.” Becky lifted her hand to wave to her father and was rewarded with a tip of his hat.
Harrison came up behind her just as her mother was pulling herself back up on the wagon. She closed the door and set the quilt on a bench inside the door. “They dropped off a quilt I had started to make when I was just a girl. My mother and sister took the time to finish it.”
“That was nice.”
“Yes, it was.” She blinked away the emotions raining down on her. She fought to keep her voice from shaking. “I suppose we should eat.”
“I put the salad on the table.”
Becky dished out the rest of the meal and they sat down across from each other. “I’m glad you were free for dinner,” she said. “I had all this food and no one to cook for.”
Harrison took a bite of the flaky pastry on the pot pie. “Oh, wow, this is good.”
“Thanks.” For some reason, she suddenly felt shy.
“How has work been since you’ve been back?”
“Good,” Becky said, happy to be on neutral ground. “The sheriff has come out with more promises to be transparent after he...”
“Wasn’t transparent.”
Becky laughed. “Exactly. He had his nephew’s best interests at heart. The kid hadn’t done anything wrong in Quail Hollow, but in light of everything else going on, it just threw a wrench into our investigation. But regardless, I think Sheriff Landry has survived to sheriff another day.”
“People often have their judgment clouded by family.” Harrison dipped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was so angry at my brother for getting involved with drugs. For bringing shame on my family—the memory of my father and mother—that I wasn’t there for him. But I’ve come to peace with everything that’s happened. I’ve learned to have faith thanks to you.”
“I’m happy you’ve found peace.” Becky reached across the table and covered his hand. “Sometimes part of that process means you have to make your own family.”
Becky was grateful her family had allowed the ice to melt, including giving her the beautiful quilt, but they’d never be one of those families who got together for Thanksgiving and shared laughter and naps during the football game. It could never be that way with them.
Harrison pushed back his chair and came around to her side of the table and pulled the chair out next to hers. He sat down on the edge and leaned toward her. “I’d like to think that maybe someday you’d consider me family.”
Becky’s heart raced as she met his steady gaze. She cleared her throat. “You’ve been there for me when I had no one else.”
He cupped her cheek with his hand. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, warm and inviting. He pulled back and studied her face. “I have no plans to go anywhere, if that’s all right with you?”
Butterflies fluttered in her belly at the intense gaze in his eyes. “You’d think someone who was adventurous enough to leave the Amish and start a new life wouldn’t get so nervous when it came to change, even good change.”
“You’ve had a lot of changes in your life.” He was so close she could see flecks of yellow in his eyes. “And I suppose over the course of our lives, there will be many more.”
“Whatever lies ahead, it’s good to know I’m not alone. I’m glad you’re here.” It was her turn to lean closer and press a kiss to his lips. He tasted like a home-cooked meal and the promise of the future.
She felt his lips curve into a smile against hers. “Me, too.”
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this book, look for some of the other great stories of suspense from Alison Stone, available now.
PLAIN JEOPARDY
PLAIN SANCTUARY
PLAIN COVER-UP
PLAIN PROTECTOR
PLAIN THREATS
Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com.
Keep reading for an excerpt from DYING TO REMEMBER by Sara K. Parker.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Quail Hollow. When I start any new book series, I’m not always sure where I’ll end up. During the writing process is when I get most of my best ideas. So when Deputy Becky Spoth strolled onto the page in Plain Jeopardy to protect Grace Miller, I immediately knew I had to tell her story. Becky had left her Amish home to become a sheriff’s deputy in her hometown. It seemed like a tough path to follow, but she does it with grace and God’s guidance. I hope you enjoyed her story.
I think, like Becky, many people choose to follow a path in life that is neither easy nor popular, but they know it is the one God wants them to be on. And when doubt swamps them, they have to learn to rely on their faith to guide them. Even if the path isn’t difficult, some people struggle to know what God calls them to do. During my lifetime, I’ve prayed for guidance as I studied engineering, then became a full-time mom, then took up writing. Oftentimes I wondered if I was making the right decisions. But when I look around, I recognize my blessings and I am grateful. I also continue to pray for guidance.
As always, I truly appreciate my readers. Thank you. Please feel free to drop me a note at [email protected] or Alison Stone, PO Box 333, Buffalo, NY 14051.
Live, Love, Laugh,
Alison
Dying to Remember
by Sara K. Parker
ONE
The car was gone. Ella Camden was sure of it.
She’d spent the better part o
f twenty minutes peering through the taxi’s back window just to be certain.
Somewhere amid Friday rush hour traffic between Route 97 and the Baltimore-Washington Parkway, the silver sedan that had been following her had disappeared.
“I don’t see it anymore,” she said into her cell phone, finally facing forward again and slumping against the seat.
“Don’t you dare have that driver turn around,” Autumn Simmons responded, her tone unusually serious.
That was exactly what Ella wanted to do, though: tell the cabdriver to forget it. Turn the car around and take her back to her mom’s house. She sank down lower in her seat, her grip tight on the phone. “I’m probably just being paranoid,” she said, echoing the words of her sisters, several coworkers, her doctors...everyone except Autumn. “My injury—”
“Don’t even go there.” Autumn cut her off. “No way you’ve imagined a silver car following you home three days in a row.”
Her friend’s words brought on an unsettling mixture of reassurance and fear. On the one hand, it was a relief to know that she had an ally who didn’t think she was losing her marbles. On the other hand, Autumn’s support meant that Ella could truly be in danger. If she was in danger, she needed help. There was only one place she could go for that, one person who might be able to figure things out—which was why she’d had the driver change course in the first place. But now she was having second thoughts.
“The office is probably closed,” she hedged, knowing full well she could simply make a phone call to find out.
“Look,” Autumn said, her voice urgent. “If you turn around, I’ll take myself up there right now and tell Roman DeHart you’re too chicken to face him, but you need his help.”
Autumn’s pushy nature was as much an annoyance as it was a confirmation that this was no time to take risks. Ella hadn’t realized how much she’d missed their friendship. She’d let distance and time do what they did best—water down old memories and fill the empty spaces with new ones.
“I’m not chicken.” Well, maybe a little. Though she’d never admit to it. “But what if this is all what the doctor’s been warning me about? Memory lapses. Confusion. Paranoia.” She touched the hat that covered her healing wound.
“Paranoia doesn’t explain what happened to Marilynn. Or your mom,” Autumn said.
“The police—”
Autumn cut in. “You know something’s going on.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know... What if I’m wrong?”
“What if you’re right?”
If Ella was right, then someone had tried to kill her last month and that same someone was looking for another opportunity. If she was right, her mother’s accident and Marilynn Rice’s death were somehow connected. After all, the two had been close friends and had worked together at Graceway, her mother’s nonprofit, for years.
No question about it. If Ella was right, she needed Roman’s help.
“Exactly,” Autumn said as if she’d read Ella’s thoughts in the empty silence. “Now, are you going to pay Roman a visit or am I?”
Ella wasn’t sure if she was ready to see Roman again after all these years and she didn’t like ultimatums. But she knew Autumn was right. She needed help, and Roman’s security company was the best place to turn.
She sighed into the phone. “I’ll do it.” Ending the call, she scanned the traffic outside her cab for the sedan once more.
Her stomach churned and she pressed a hand to her abdomen. The meds made her nauseous, but she’d keep taking them for now. Intermittent nausea was better than the explosive migraines that had been plaguing her for weeks. And at least her mood had stabilized. Her doctor had pushed an increase in the dosage of her Prozac, reminding her that her memory lapses may subside when her emotions were more regulated. But while the meds had helped with her anxiety, Ella knew she wasn’t depressed, and she certainly didn’t need more medicine.
She needed the truth. And she needed help.
Fear crawled along the back of her neck as she peered out the back window. Still no silver sedan. She was pretty certain it was a Toyota Camry, but the car had never been close enough for her to make out the driver. Ella faced forward again, watching as Baltimore’s Inner Harbor came into view, city lights glimmering against dark waters.
After-work traffic and icing roads didn’t seem to faze the taxi driver as he weaved through the city. Ella wanted to tell him to slow down. Maybe just turn around all together. It was after six on a Friday evening, after all. Roman had probably left the office by now.
She half hoped he had.
More than six years had passed since they’d parted ways. Six years since his sister’s murder had devastated them both and torn their relationship apart. She wondered if time had been kind to him. If he’d learned to smile again. To laugh.
If he’d gotten married, had kids.
She’d wondered for a long time, but it had been years since she’d tried to find out.
The car pulled over and slowed to a stop. She should have called, set up an appointment.
No turning back now.
Ella’s gaze traveled across the sidewalk and up the grand entrance where the Shield Protection logo was boldly printed above a set of mammoth mahogany doors.
A knot of regret tightened in her stomach. Roman and his dad had purchased the historic building together, Roman’s brothers joining in on the renovation in memory of their sister. Roman had sent Ella a personal invitation to the grand opening four years ago, which she had initially declined. She had started a new life for herself in Colorado, and she knew that seeing Roman again would threaten the progress she had made toward putting the past behind her.
Only, at the last minute, she’d hopped on a plane, telling herself she owed the DeHart family her support—and convincing herself that the trip would bring closure. She had never been so wrong in her life. No sooner had she stepped out of her rental car that afternoon than she’d spotted Roman hand in hand with a striking redhead. Maybe Ella shouldn’t have been surprised or hurt that he had moved on, but she simply hadn’t been able to face him, so she’d left the event before anyone had even realized she was there.
“You all set?” the driver asked, watching her in the rearview mirror.
“Yes, could you wait here?” she asked as she pushed the door open. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be...”
He shrugged. “Meter’s running.”
She didn’t care. It was freezing outside—unseasonably so for Maryland in November—and she didn’t relish the idea of standing at the curb trying to flag down another taxi when she was ready to head back to her childhood home in Annapolis. Especially when the stranger in the silver car could reappear at any moment.
She opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, taking a quick look up and down the street. She still didn’t see any sign of that car. Pushing aside self-doubt, she lowered her head against the bitter wind and carefully navigated the salted but still ice-slick steps of Shield.
She grabbed hold of the wrought-iron railing with a gloved hand. Six steps up and she was standing at the doors reading the posted sign that they closed at 5:30 p.m. Disappointment warred with relief. The silver car was gone for now and at least she could truthfully tell Autumn she’d attempted to see Roman.
She pressed the doorbell anyway, just to be sure. Waited a couple of seconds and turned toward the cab. She would call in the morning to make an appointment.
She’d only taken two steps when she heard a voice as familiar as her own heartbeat.
“May I help you?”
Her heart jolted and she turned to the doors, peering up at the security camera.
“Sorry,” she said. “I know you’re closed...”
“Ella? Is that you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m buzzing you in. Take the elevator up to the fifth floor.
I’ll wait for you there.”
A clicking noise sounded and Ella reached for the door, pulling it open and stepping inside.
She removed her gloves and tucked them into her purse, then tugged at the edges of her cap to make sure it was secure.
A reception desk sat empty, its black granite shiny and clean. Ella’s boots squeaked along the hardwood floors as she made her way to the elevator.
Inside, she pressed the number five and clenched her hands together as she ascended. Five floors were all that stood between Ella and the man she’d spent the last several years learning to live without.
Five floors and five million heartbeats.
The doors slid open and there he stood, wearing a sharp suit and a warm smile—a devastating combination that stole her breath. Ella exited the elevator, stopping just short of stepping into his arms. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets.
“Ella,” he said, his voice all low and smooth like it had always been, his eyes searching hers. “It’s been a long time.”
She nodded. “Six years.” And five months and a handful of days. He looked every bit the man she’d known—only since she’d last caught a glimpse of him he’d shaved off his goatee and bulked up at the gym.
Her gaze darted around him and down a hallway with glass doors and gleaming wood.
He touched her arm and warmth seeped through the wool of her coat.
“Are you okay?”
Ella drew a shaky breath and looked into eyes that had always been able to read her heart.
“I don’t think so, Roman. I need your help.”
His eyes narrowed and he gestured down the hall. “Let’s go to my office.”
* * *
Ella Camden was the last person Roman had expected to see when he’d heard the doorbell moments ago. A new client in need of help, maybe. Someone looking for work, likely. Ella, the woman he’d never stopped loving? Not even on his radar.
Her boots tread quietly along the hallway behind him and he opened the door to his office, letting her pass through first. She’d cut her hair. Coppery brown barely peeked out below the light gray knit cap she wore. She kept her hands in the pockets of a black winter coat and didn’t meet his eyes as she entered.