The Sugar Haus Inn

by Serena B. Miller

  “I know, but—”

  “A good person tends to trust people, Joe.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Lydia went to answer it. She came back with Joe’s father and brother.

  “Told you I didn’t do it,” Darren said.

  Joe rose from the table and put his arm around his brother. “This is the man who watched over my son.”

  “What I think,” Lydia said, with a sparkle in her eyes, “is that we all need to celebrate with a nice piece of apple pie.”

  Rachel reached for her purse.

  “No, this one is on me,” Lydia said. “We have already shipped enough material to keep the Haitian girls busy for quite awhile. I made this one for Bobby’s homecoming. It’s his favorite.”

  “And mine,” Joe’s father said. “The boy takes after me, don’t you think, Lydia? He has my eyes and mouth. I’m thinking he might become a preacher someday.”

  “Dad,” Joe said. “Don’t start.”

  “Or a baseball player. Or whatever he wants to be,” Robert amended. “As long as he serves the Lord with his life. Now, about that pie…”

  Later, when his father and brother had gone back to the daadi haus and Bobby was happily playing with Anna, Joe rose and put his cup in the sink. “Let’s go outside awhile, Rachel. It’s nice out tonight.”

  “I’d like that.”

  They sat down on the porch swing together.

  “I told Bobby that you had captured the woman who took his mommy from us.” Joe rested his arm along the back of the swing. “You’re quite a heroine to him now.”

  “I don’t want to be a heroine to him.”

  “Why not?”

  Rachel hesitated. Yesterday, while staring down the barrel of Henrietta’s gun, she had resolved that if she ever got out of the situation alive, she would grab onto life with both hands and never let go.

  “To tell the truth…” Rachel knew she was taking a great risk, but she was not someone who played games. Never had been. Never would be. Joe would either accept her as she was—a straight-talking small-town cop whose only beauty regimen was soap and water—or he wouldn’t accept her at all.

  “I don’t want to be his hero. I’d rather be…” She swallowed hard. “His mom.”

  Joe glanced at her, startled. Then his arm dropped to his side and he stared straight ahead as silence descended.

  She tried not to care. She had spoken the truth. She had no control over what he would choose to do.

  “So…” Joe seemed to be at a loss for words.

  She pressed forward. “I love that little boy with all my heart.”

  “That’s great, but—how do you feel about his father?”

  “That’s easy. I would walk over hot coals for him.”

  “Even if he’s a washed-up, over-the-hill baseball player? I think my shoulder has had about all the abuse it can take. I’ll never be able to play ball on a professional level again.”

  He actually thought that was important to her? No matter what happened next, she was determined to put all her cards on the table.

  “I would take you any way I could get you, Joe. I love you. I have for a long time.”

  Joe didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stared up at the full moon hanging just above the treetops.

  “I don’t know what’s ahead of me, Rachel. I have things I need to take care of back home. Business things. Considering what Henrietta did to our family, I’m suspecting she might not have taken care of us financially after all. I need to check the records and see what she’s done. I used to be a rich man. Now I have no idea if there’s anything left.”

  Her heart plummeted. He was bringing up Henrietta and finances on the heels of her telling him that she loved him?

  So much for putting her cards on the table. She couldn’t help it if she wasn’t movie-star beautiful. She couldn’t help it if she was just a small-town cop. She had reached for a dream, and it was out of her reach. Unwilling to embarrass herself any further, she rose to depart.

  “No.” He grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her back down beside him. “Don’t walk away from me.”

  “Why? I figured this conversation was over.”

  “It isn’t. We have more to talk about.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like Grace.”

  So he wanted to talk about Grace. A movie star. The Marilyn Monroe look-alike. A woman he had loved enough to marry. She wished she had never begun this conversation.

  “Okay. What is it you want to say?”

  “You need to know that I was never a perfect husband, but I was faithful to her. Even when I was on the road. Always.”

  She swallowed. This was something she had wondered about but never would have asked.

  “You must have loved her a great deal.”

  “I did.” He took her hand in his and intertwined their fingers. “But living with Grace was a lot like living with a beautiful, vain child who needed constant attention. She was adorable and charming, and I was the envy of all of my male friends, but…”

  Rachel was afraid to stir, wondering what Joe was about to say.

  “It isn’t easy for me to say this—it feels disloyal—but…I love you, Rachel. I love your heart, your loyalty, your wholeness. I love your spirit. I love the fact that you took in an abused teenager without giving it a second thought. I love the way you try to protect your aunts. I love the fact that you faced down the news media and made it possible for me to get my son away. I love the fact that I’ve never heard an untrue word come from your lips. I am proud of who you are, what you do, and your strength and courage. And frankly, I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, but…”

  “But?” Rachel was almost dizzy from trying to process so many wonderful things all strung together at once, but she knew she didn’t like the sound of that word.

  “I’m not eaten up with pride like some men, but I do have some.” His voice was low and intense. “From the moment you knew who I was, you’ve tried to protect me. You even took out Henrietta for me. I have to get back to LA, figure out where I stand, and decide who I am now that I can no longer play baseball. Maybe then I can begin to feel worthy of you. I’ll come back as soon as I can to court you properly—but I need to feel like a man while I’m doing it.”

  Court her? Worthy of her?

  “Oh, you do that, Joe.” Rachel felt herself grinning wildly in the darkness. Her spirit and hopes and dreams were rising as high as the moon. “You just go back to LA and—”

  Her words and thoughts were snatched away as Joe covered her mouth with the warmth of his own.

  Epilogue

  Anna clutched a bouquet of yellow rosebuds against her chest as she haltingly walked down the aisle, trying to keep time to the music. Bobby, solemn as the ring bearer, held her hand as they made progress to the front of the Englisch church.

  She was taking her maid-of-honor responsibilities very, very seriously.

  The beautician she had visited with Rachel this morning had washed and conditioned her hair until it felt as light and fragrant as spun sugar. It had been wound it into a lovely bun and secured with hairpins. A stiffly starched, formal black prayer kapp sat on her head, complementing the brand-new navy dress Lydia had made for her.

  Rachel had given her a maid-of-honor gift of the most wonderful perfume all wrapped up in a pretty package. It smelled just like wild honeysuckle. A smidgen was behind her ears right now!

  She felt beautiful today. Almost like a bride herself, as she walked down the aisle, taking her time, savoring every second of being the center of attention. This was the best day of her life, except maybe for the morning she had walked the beach in Florida and gathered seashells.

  Life was good again, even though her home had burned down and things had been very, very scary and confusing for a while.

  Her family was getting bigger, and this thrilled her. More people to love!

  After the wedding, Joe and Rachel and Bobby were going
to be living in Rachel’s house until they could build a new one on property next to the farm. They said she could walk over and visit as much as she wanted. She couldn’t wait!

  Joe’s daett was living in the daadi haus. He was ready to retire and wanted to be near his son and grandson. She had heard Joe tell Bertha that he knew his father wouldn’t like retirement and would probably be working with some local church before the year was out. Bertha said she understood completely.

  Anna thought Joe’s daett was nice. He always looked her in the eyes and talked with her patiently even though she knew her tongue was clumsy sometimes and her words didn’t always come out quite right. He even liked her “boo!” joke and never acted tired of it.

  The announcement of Joe and Rachel’s engagement hadn’t surprised her one bit. She saw a lot more than people thought. She had known for a long time that Rachel thought Joe was handsome. It was written all over her face. It was why Rachel had been so grouchy for so long—because she didn’t want to like Joe so much.

  Darren was Joe’s best man. She was happy to see the two brothers getting along so well. That was the way a family was meant to be.

  The president of a local community college had come by and offered Joe a coaching job. Joe had been very happy about that. He had swung Rachel around and around in his joy. Lydia and Bertha had turned their heads in embarrassment, but Anna had liked watching all that happiness.

  There weren’t as many newspeople camped out on their property anymore. Joe was pleased, but Lydia was disappointed. She had found another sewing machine she wanted to send to the orphanage in Haiti. Lydia had made a lot of money selling those pies and cookies to the newspeople.

  And best of all, they now had a brand-new house just like the one they had had before the fire. Only this one had three bathrooms. Two were upstairs! Bertha had been able to pay for the building materials with the money Joe had found hidden in Daett’s books.

  Rachel had shocked everyone when she announced that she was going to be working only part-time with the police department. She said it was because she wanted to help Lydia and Bertha start up the Sugar Haus Inn again. Anna had overheard Rachel telling Joe, “If you can’t lick ’em, join ’em.” Joe had laughed.

  She thought maybe Rachel was a little bit tired of being a policewoman all the time.

  Anna was happy they were going to have guests at the Inn again. Kim Whitfield was going to take Rachel’s full-time position at the police station. Anna thought Kim was nice. Lydia had been giving Kim cooking lessons.

  Someone waved at her from the audience. Distracted, she stopped in the middle of the aisle and concentrated hard on figuring out who that person was. Suddenly she recognized her. Stephanie! Only now Stephanie didn’t have a big belly anymore, and she was with some people Anna had never seen.

  Oh! A tiny pink bundle was in Stephanie’s arms! Anna hadn’t seen the baby yet, but she knew Stephanie had named the little girl Rachel Jo, after the two people who had rescued her.

  Anna temporarily forgot her important responsibilities and wandered over to the side of the aisle with Bobby still in tow. Stephanie obligingly held up the baby so she could see it. Anna let loose of Bobby’s hand just long enough to touch the baby’s little cheek. It was as silky as a rose petal.

  “She’s pretty,” she whispered.

  “I’ll let you hold her after the wedding,” Stephanie promised. Anna’s bubble of happiness rose higher in anticipation. Babies were even nicer to hold than kittens.

  She smiled at the people on both sides of the aisle as she continued her walk. Everyone smiled back.

  Many townspeople who had watched the story of Joe and Rachel unfold had come to the wedding. Even Anna’s cousins had arrived in their many buggies and filled up the remaining pews.

  As Anna and Bobby neared the front of the church, Joe greeted her with a grin and a wink. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and was by far the handsomest man Anna had ever seen. She decided he was probably the nicest also, except perhaps his daett, who stood beside him holding his Bible, ready to say the words that would marry Joe and Rachel.

  Things, in her opinion, had turned out very well.

  The music stopped when Anna arrived at the front. She carefully toed to the tape Rachel had put down during the rehearsal, the spot where she was supposed to stand.

  She turned around. The new music began, and now it was Rachel’s turn to come up the aisle. She had chosen a lacy white dress that made her look like a princess instead of a police officer. Her shiny brown hair was all in curls.

  And the very best thing of all on this big, big day was that down the aisle, still limping from his terrible wreck, Eli walked slowly right beside Rachel. Anna had known that Rachel wished Eli could walk her down the aisle—but no one had thought that Eli would be well enough to do so.

  Thrilled, Anna clapped her hands in happiness. Someone else took up her clapping, and then the entire crowd was on its feet, drowning out the wedding music with thunderous applause.

  Eli acknowledged the applause with a dignified nod of his head before solemnly handing Rachel over to Joe. Tears were streaming down Rachel’s cheeks, but she was smiling.

  Anna checked Joe’s face. He wasn’t crying, but his expression told her that he was thinking Rachel looked like a princess, too, as he stepped forward and gave her his arm.

  Joe’s daett opened his Bible to a passage Joe and Rachel had chosen. They said they knew it was an odd scripture to use for a wedding, but they wanted it to be the theme for this one—as well as the theme for their future life together.

  Clearing his voice, Joe’s daett read, “ ‘Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.’ ”

  Love’s Journey in Sugarcreek: Rachel’s Rescue (Book 2) - Sample

  Joe’s car crawled forward at the blinding speed of four miles an hour. The black Amish buggy in front of him swayed from side to side as the horse labored up the steep hill.

  Even though it would take only a couple of seconds to pass the slow-moving buggy, he could not risk doing so. The chances of meeting another car were too great. The roads in Tuscarawas County, Ohio were hilly, curvy, and increasingly unsafe for the Amish buggies that stubbornly shared them with their impatient non-Amish neighbors and the sometimes careless tourists who flooded the countryside each spring.

  Even though he had lived here for nearly two years, he still marveled at a belief system so strong that it caused a people to put themselves and their children at risk rather than succumb to the temptation of owning a motorized vehicle.

  He just didn’t get it. A car would have protective air bags and seatbelts and a steel frame. A buggy had nothing to protect its occupants except the too-easily crushed wood. To him, the choice was a no-brainer. To them, it was a matter of faith. If it was God’s will that they make it home safely, they would. If it was God’s will that they endure a tragic accident, then that was to be accepted as well.

  It was a fatalistic mentality, but one they had held onto for generations. He respected his wife’s Amish relatives, but he did not understand them. All he knew was that he was determined never to be the cause of the pitiful wreckage he’d seen too many times while traveling these roads.

  Yes, it took a lot of patience to live in Amish country but it was worth it. He would gladly trade time plodding behind a buggy in this beautiful countryside, versus getting stuck in L.A. traffic, an experience which had once been a daily routine for him. And so he followed the black buggy at a snail’s pace even though he was jittering with the desire to see his family.

  He made the time pass a little more quickly by flirting with three adorable children peeking out at him from the back of the buggy. Joe waved and one ruddy-cheeked boy about his little son’s age shyly waved back. The boy’s two smaller sisters, both with white-blonde curls escaping from miniscule black bonnets, followed their big brother’s example.

  Joe made the peace sign, which they copied—the little girls pu
tting one hand over their mouths while they giggled. Then he waggled his fingers on the steering wheel and they waggled their fingers, enjoying the game of mimicking the silly Englischman in the car behind them.

  He gave them the live-long-and-prosper Vulcan hand sign from Star Trek. That was a momentary challenge to them, but they soon mastered it and exhibited their new skill to him with shy smiles. The children appeared to be about a year apart. Stair step children. Common among the Amish.

  It wouldn’t be long now. He was almost home. The flight to Columbus from L.A. and the two-hour drive from the airport to Sugarcreek was almost at an end. He couldn’t wait to find out what wonders had happened while he was gone.

  It seemed like there was constantly something new and exciting for his son, Bobby, to experience and excitedly share with him. New piglets? New kittens? Pears ripe for picking growing in the old orchard behind the Sugar Haus barn? Life was a constant source of wonder to a small boy spending much of his time on a working farm.

  Not only did Bobby have Rachel’s Amish aunts’ farm to explore, he was also welcome at Eli’s, a cousin who owned the small dairy farm next door. Eli had raised many fine sons and did not seem to mind answering a six-year-old’s stream of questions. Eli, who was a widower, seemed to welcome Bobby’s constant chatter.

  There were many things Joe regretted in his life, but choosing to raise his son within the loving circle of Rachel and her Amish relatives was not one of them.

  During his recent stay in L.A., his longing to get back to Ohio had become so strong it surprised even him. His west coast friends could tease him about living in fly-over country all they wanted but he didn’t care. He knew where he belonged and best of all, he knew to whom he belonged.

  In spite of the troubles he had discovered in California, the feeling of getting closer to the farm where the people he loved most in the world awaited him, was intoxicating.

  The horse and buggy topped the hill and Joe saw a straight stretch in front of him with no other cars coming. He carefully pulled around the buggy, giving it a wide berth so as not to frighten the horse, and then he sped up as much as was safe on this road. It was hard to hold back. He had been gone three whole weeks, and those three weeks had felt like an eternity.