When the door partially closed behind them, Abby darted a concerned look her way. “Okay?”
“I am fine.” With a shooing motion, she presented a fake smile. “Now go do what you need to do. I’m going to look at these things here.”
“Sure?”
“Positive.” She smiled more brightly until Abby turned away. Then, as Abby darted down the aisles looking for her brother, Deborah hovered around the front display of garden tools.
For once, Mr. Schrock wasn’t manning the front counter. She couldn’t find a stray animal or snake, either. Instead, it was fairly quiet—the only voices she heard were mumbled conversations in the back near the dairy and some children giggling by a candy display.
Little by little, she relaxed. Yes, all she was going to have to do was stay in the front of the store. Out of the way. Hope and pray that the one man she wanted to avoid at all costs was working in the back storage room.
And if she was really lucky, Abby would decide that she didn’t need to spend much time talking to Walker and would want to leave. Soon.
Resigned to her fate, she picked up a metal gnome and looked at it. Turned it on one side then the other. Noticed the spout was from the top of the red hat. A handle arched out from his back. The gnome’s expression was of perpetual surprise, as she would be if she’d become a watering can, Deborah supposed.
Who would buy such a thing? she wondered.
And if it was purchased, what did the owner do with it? Trying out the handle, she knew she, for one, would feel terribly silly fetching water in such a thing. Though, well, it certainly did seem to be a trusty sort of object.
“See something you like?”
Jacob! Deborah almost dropped the gnome. “Nee.” When his eye followed the length of her arm, she felt obligated to explain herself. “I was just examining this . . . ah . . .”
“Gnome?”
“Jah. This gnome.”
“It’s a watering can.”
“Jah, I figured that out. It is mighty uncommon, you know.”
He walked around the other side of the counter; his steps slow and slightly stilted—as though he was coming to her side against his will. “Some people collect them.”
With effort, she met his gaze. “You’ve sold these?”
“We’ve sold quite a few. The gnomes with the green caps went first.” To her surprise, his voice had a thread of humor in it. Just as if he, too, thought the watering cans were silly.
“Ah.” She had no idea why he was being friendlier, but she was grateful for his change in attitude.
Jacob’s eyes lit up. “You know how my father is. People are used to his whimsical ideas.”
“Yes.” She flashed a smile. “Yes, I suppose so.” When he continued to stare, she cleared her throat. “I’m only in here to wait for Abby. She had to talk to Walker about something.”
His face became a blank wall all over again. “Oh. Sure.”
If she didn’t know better, Frannie would have guessed that Jacob was disappointed by her statement.
But she did know better. Never would she forget the anger that had emanated from him at their last meeting. “We’ll be gone soon.” She raised her chin. “I’m sure of that.”
“Gut.” He looked like he was ready to turn away, but for some reason he didn’t. Maybe he, too, was struck by the connection that was felt between them. Even if it was a prickly, painful one.
Feeling like she had nothing else to lose, she asked the question that had been wedged between them like a pebble in a shoe. “Jacob, why do you hate me so much?”
The skin around his lips tightened. “I never said I did.”
“You might not have said it, but I know you felt that way. I couldn’t help but notice. Why do you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you.”
She was tired of pussyfooting around. “But? . . .”
He sighed. “Look, just because I don’t hate you, it doesn’t mean I want to think about Perry. Or everything he did to us. To all of us.”
He turned away then, leaving her to stew about their conversation. And to remember once again the sweet, buttery feeling that she’d used to feel every time their paths had crossed.
To remember the way Perry had once been friends with everyone, and how hurt she’d felt when he pulled away and began his dark descent. And how much she still missed him.
Now there was no chance of patching things up between them. No chance that Perry would redirect his life and come back to their family.
When he’d changed, her life had changed, too. And quite honestly, she hadn’t been all that happy about the transformations. Fact was, she’d resented Perry for making their parents worried and depressed.
For making members of the community mad.
For the guilt she felt because there hadn’t been anything she could do to make things better. For making her be afraid that everything she had always taken for granted could be taken away in an instant.
And now she realized that she wasn’t the only one who had felt that way. Not at all.
Quietly, she set the gnome down, then walked out the front door. Took a seat in one of the white rocking chairs that lined the front of the store.
Abby was just going to have to come look for her. Because it was evident that she couldn’t be inside with Jacob for another minute.
Frannie, it is a nice surprise to see you here,” Micah said as they walked side by side to bring one of the horses into the barn. “I’d practically stopped hoping you would visit me.”
“I’ve been here before, Micah.”
“You’ve come with your daed to attend church,” he corrected. “You’ve never come over just to visit me. I would have remembered.”
As always, his kind way of speaking was interspersed by thinly veiled criticisms. “You know I don’t have a lot of spare time. The inn is a busy place.”
“That is true. The inn is busy. And you have no help.”
She flushed. Once again it was what he didn’t say that hurt. He didn’t mention that she’d been injured. Or that while the inn kept her busy, the fact that she had guests at all was a blessing.
“But though I’ve been busy, I’ve also been remiss,” she said, giving him what he wanted. “I’m sorry. You’ve been a good friend to me. Always.”
The wrinkle between his brows eased. “You don’t need to apologize for anything, Frannie.”
Easily, Micah hopped over the fence, then turned and opened the gate for her to walk through. She blinked, realizing she was finally seeing him in his element. Here, he was easy and relaxed, far more so than when he called on her.
The land was made for him, and he was obviously meant to spend his days farming and working on it.
“Not too cold today,” she murmured.
“I’m glad of it,” he replied as he wrapped an arm around a horse’s neck, patting her gently.
The horse stood still, seeming to enjoy his tender attentions, then with what looked like the gentlest of coaxing, Micah pulled on the horse’s bridle and started walking back through the field.
“What’s her name?”
“Belle.” He chuckled. “It’s quite a name, ain’t so? I didn’t name her, though.” Idly running a hand down the horse’s mane, he looked at Frannie. “Perhaps one day soon I’ll hitch her up and take you for a ride. She’s a gut buggy horse.”
This was it. She needed to say something. Before she lost her nerve, she spoke in a rush. “Micah, I came here to tell you that I have fallen in love with Luke. That is, Detective Reynolds.”
He paused for the briefest of seconds. “You mean the Englischer.”
“Jah.”
“Do you two even have a future together? I thought he left.”
“I care for him enough to wait to see if he’ll come back.” Privately, she resolved to eve
n go visit Luke in Cincinnati, if that’s what it took.
“You don’t want to try to make things work between us?”
“No. I don’t.” Frannie looked down at her feet, embarrassed because she knew no words could repair the damage that had been done. She’d hurt Micah by loving someone else.
“So you fancy the police detective now.”
Stung by the bitter tone, and by the way he’d emphasized now, her chin popped up. “You make it sound like I’ve always got my eye on someone new.”
“Don’t you? First me, then Perry. Now the Englischer.”
“I’m not like that. I’m not flighty.”
“I didn’t call you flighty.” His voice was noticeably cooler. “Only pointing out that your attentions have turned. Yet again.”
As they walked through the ankle-high grass toward the barn, Belle easily clopping along by Micah’s side, Frannie did her best to push her feelings to one side and concentrate on Micah’s.
But it wasn’t an easy thing to do, because it seemed like he had deliberately misunderstood what she was saying.
But her relationship with Luke hadn’t occurred the way he was describing it, of course. Not the simple way he was describing it, anyway. Though she shouldn’t have been surprised, she was still hurt by the way he was turning the tables on her. She’d known telling him that she didn’t return his feelings would be difficult to do. And yet she’d still gone to his house to tell him face-to-face.
As best as she could, she grabbed hold of her pride as she watched him open the gate, guide Belle through it, then close it again.
When they started walking along the path to the barn, she forced herself to speak. “Micah, I came over here to tell you that I hope we can still be friends.”
The three of them stopped at the front of the barn door. “Is that what you want now?” he asked derisively. “To be friends with me?”
All she really knew was that she wanted to end the conversation. “Can we still be friends?”
Pale eyes scanned her from top to bottom. For a split second, she saw pain appear in his gaze, followed by unwanted resignation.
Then he blinked and his face became expressionless. “Perhaps. Perhaps one day, Frannie.” Squaring his shoulders, he looked at her evenly. “I will not wait for you any longer. I am done waiting.”
“I understand.” She was relieved, actually. She wouldn’t feel so guilty if she knew he was happy with someone else.
“All right, then. I think it is best if you go now.”
She felt his deflection as strongly as if he’d pushed her away. Which wasn’t fair, of course. The man had his pride and he was trying hard to keep it.
She could understand that.
“Goodbye, Micah,” she said softly before turning and walking the short distance to her buggy. By the time she’d untied her horse from the post, she saw that Micah was gone.
Chapter 27
“Back when we were in school, Perry would read a whole book in a day. He was a lot smarter than most gave him credit for. It’s a real shame he made so many dumb choices.”
BETH BYLER
Still shaken by her conversation with Micah, Frannie stopped by Beth’s house on her way home. She hoped to relax for a few hours away from the inn, but Beth had asked if they could spend the time at the inn instead.
An hour later, Beth showed up with a basket of sewing projects, and Lydia Plank.
“As soon as you told me about Micah, I decided reinforcements were in order,” Beth said.
“I hope you don’t mind?” Lydia asked.
“Definitely not,” Frannie said with a smile. “The more the merrier.”
Pulling out a pretty tin from her basket, Beth said, “I’ve got both peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies.”
Frannie winked at Lydia. “You’ve been baking, Beth?”
“Definitely not! My mamm made these this morning. Today was one of her better days.”
“Praise God,” Frannie said with a smile. “Those cookies look wunderbaar! I’ll brew some coffee.”
Soon she, Lydia, and Beth were sitting and eating cookies, moping and pretending to sew. Finally, Frannie looked at her two best friends and grimaced. “We’re quite a sight, aren’t we? All we’re doing is getting fat and creating frown lines.”
“Not too fat. I’ve only eaten three cookies,” Lydia said.
“Five. You’ve eaten five,” Beth countered.
Lydia frowned. “Truly?”
“I’m sure,” Beth replied. “I know because I’ve only picked up a new cookie when you have.”
Lydia slumped. “Next time, don’t count cookies.”
“Don’t feel bad. I would’ve eaten more if you two hadn’t been here,” Frannie admitted.
“I ate two before I saw you both,” Beth confessed. “They’re good. And no matter what people say, chocolate does help make you feel better.”
“I’m not about to argue with that.” Frannie sewed a perfect line, then continued. “If we’ve been in worse moods, I’m not sure when.” Afraid to talk about what was really on her mind, she said, “There has been much going on lately. Perhaps we’re all exhausted.”
“There has been a lot going on,” Lydia said around yet another bite of cookie. “Walker and I can’t seem to figure out what we are going to do with the rest of our lives . . . and my mamm is pressuring me to figure it out quick.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Mothers.”
Frannie felt a momentary pinch in her heart—the same thing that always happened whenever she contemplated how much she missed her own mother. “At least you have a man in your life, Lydia.”
“Frannie, you and I might as well admit what has us so shaken up,” Beth said. “We’re grumpy because we’re brokenhearted over two men we shouldn’t have ever thought twice about.” She picked up another cookie, stared at it, and then set it back on the plate. Curving her arms about her stomach, she said, “I never should have eaten so many. Do you two feel sick?”
“Only a little,” Lydia admitted.
“I don’t,” Frannie said. “At least, not yet.” She grabbed another cookie. Maybe that’s what she should be doing—eating cookies until she only thought about a squeamish stomach . . . not a broken heart. It would hurt far less.
Beth picked up a piece of lint from her fabric. “We are smart girls. We should have known better than to get involved with men we have nothing in common with. No good could have come from it. But maybe we were just tired of all the same prospects . . . Is that what happened with you, Lydia?”
“I don’t think so.” After a moment, she said quietly, “It just happened that one day I knew Walker was the man who could make me happy.”
Lydia made love sound so easy, Frannie thought. But it wasn’t easy at all. After all, Micah should have been the perfect man for her—they were part of the same community, and had many of the same values.
But instead of making her feel happy and secure, Micah had only made her feel doubtful and troubled. And sometimes . . . even annoyed!
Now, Luke, on the other hand, he did make her feel excited and happy. But he was a policeman! Furthermore, he left for Cincinnati without even telling her a final goodbye!
How could something so wrong feel so right? It made no sense. How could falling in love be the wrong choice? She bit the inside of her cheek to distract herself from the burning ache in her chest.
“I tried to fall in love with Micah,” Frannie admitted over the lump in her throat. “But I just couldn’t do it.”
Beth nibbled her bottom lip. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and Frannie suspected she harbored a painful heartache of her own.
Diplomatically, Beth said, “Micah is a good man. That is true. But he wasn’t ever the man for you.”
“I know.” Heaven knew she had tried hard to make it work. But
it hadn’t been enough. And once she met Luke, she knew it would have never been enough.
She hadn’t loved Micah.
But she did love Luke—with all her aching heart.
“Only the Lord knows.” Lydia shrugged. “Perhaps one day he’ll see fit to tell us why.”
Beth pulled the tin closer, then picked up another cookie. “It’s probably best they’re gone from here. I mean, it’s best Chris left and that I have no way to get in touch with him ever again.” She shoved the cookie into her mouth and chewed for all it was worth.
“I suppose so,” Frannie reluctantly agreed. Because, well, what else could she say? Beth was right. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. Where was Beth’s happy ending?
Where was hers?
And here, Lydia wasn’t all that happy, either.
Maybe, she reflected, happy endings didn’t exist. Maybe happy endings were what you made of the pieces left behind, like some sort of crazy quilt.
She grabbed a cookie, popped the whole thing into her mouth, and let the peanut butter melt on her tongue. After a long moment, she said, “Girls, do you think one day we’ll look back at all this and laugh? No doubt we’ll wonder why we ate ourselves silly!”
“I’ll know tonight when I have a stomach ache,” Lydia said darkly.
Beth, on the other hand, didn’t look as if she’d ever look back on her feelings and feel like laughing. No, at the moment, Beth looked only like she wanted to cry. “I told my mamm I don’t understand why the Lord brought me and Chris together in the first place, if we were never meant to be.”
“What did she say?”
Beth slumped. “She said she’d given up wondering why God made things happen. And then of course I felt terribly guilty for bothering her with my selfish problems.”
“Maybe your mamm liked being bothered,” Lydia ventured as she picked back up her sewing. “I’ve always thought your mother liked being involved in your life.”
“She does. I try to protect her by telling her that I’m always fine. But sometimes we both know I’m not.”
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