“You were?”
To his amazement, she didn’t look sad about that fact. Instead, she looked pleased. That spunky part of Frannie was why he was so attracted to her. Sure, he loved the way she looked for the best in people. And the way she wasn’t shy about speaking her mind, if she thought it needed to be spoken.
But she was also strong enough to stand up to his personality. She kept him in line and on his toes.
Pulling her toward him, he wrapped his hands around her waist. “I didn’t even ask. How many guests do you have today?”
“Three rooms are filled. Two couples and one single lady. They should be appearing downstairs fairly soon.”
“How soon?”
Playfully, she slapped the hand that had curved a little more tightly around her waist. “Sooner than you would like, Luke. I told them I made raspberry jam-filled muffins this morning, you know. They won’t tarry long.”
He dropped his hands and hopped off the stool. “Can I have one to go?”
“You haven’t already eaten?”
“Oh, I ate some eggs and bacon at the Marion Inn. But the cook there doesn’t make your muffins, Frannie.”
“No one does,” she said. But her eyes were sparkling.
Which made him press another kiss to her cheek when she handed him three muffins on a plate, covered with a pressed gingham napkin. “Frannie, you’re the best.”
She grinned. “I know. Enjoy the treat.”
Heading out the back door, he said, “I’ll call you later. Bye, Fran.”
He was almost out the door when her voice stopped him in midstride. “Luke? Do you feel better now?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I feel a lot better. Thanks, Frannie.”
When he got in his truck, he knew he’d keep the memory of her understanding smile in his mind all day long.
Dressed in a gray dress and black apron, with a black bonnet covering her kapp, Gloria Schrock looked like she was ready to take on the world. “Jacob, I want you to stay here at the store while I go to the sheriff’s office,” she said.
But Jacob wasn’t fooled for an instant. Her eyes were puffy and her skin was pale. She was, like him, barely holding it together. “Mamm, I’d rather you let me go. Or better yet, why don’t we close up the store and go together?”
“I think it’s better if I go on my own today. Besides, I’ll be meeting Mr. Meyer there, and he’ll want to talk about payment and such.”
All of that sounded like even more reason for his mother not to go to the sheriff’s office on her own. “I can do those things. You know I’ve been helping with the books a lot.”
“Jah, but I handle the finances.” Her voice cracked.
The sound broke his heart. He’d been raised to look out for his mother. And today of all days, he ached to save her from further pain. “Mamm, I don’t think Daed wants you to go to the sheriff’s office. He isn’t going to want you to see him that way. ”
“I don’t think anything I do is up to your father anymore,” she said quietly. “And, Jacob, please stay here. I want the store to be open for business. Even if no one stops by today, I want everyone to know that I’m not about to fold up shop and hide. At least, not yet.”
Straightening her shoulders, she raised her chin slightly so she could look at him eye to eye. “Son, I need for us to be in control of something, even if it’s only keeping the store open.”
Remembering how good it felt to have his friends’ support the evening before, Jacob backed down. He wasn’t sure how the community would react once the whole truth came out, but he was willing to support his mother’s wishes. “All right. But if you need something, send word, would you?”
“I will.” Tears filled her eyes. “Jacob,” she said, her voice cracking again. “I know you are worried about your father, and about me, too. But we will all be all right. God will give us strength.”
“I know,” he said, but the moment she left, he exhaled a ragged breath. The Lord was certainly giving them strength. But He was also putting a lot of obstacles in their lives at the moment.
He’d never been one to question why things happened, but at the moment, he couldn’t help but wonder why God had led both he and his father to be embroiled in such anger and hate.
Though his father had killed Perry, Jacob knew that it had been his own anger that had spurred it. If he had learned long ago to control his emotions where Perry was concerned, then he wouldn’t have held so much in.
And wouldn’t have been so angry with Perry back on that dreaded night.
So when would you have finally stood up for yourself? A weak, suggestive voice inside his head murmured. Back when you were waltzing in late for school?
Or . . . the day you both skipped school and went hunting instead?
Jacob wished he couldn’t remember that day. The episode had been so disturbing, he’d worked hard to try to erase it from memory. But of course that couldn’t happen.
The two of them had been alone in the woods, small-gauge shotguns in their hands. Looking for rabbits.
Jacob had slaughtered hogs before. He’d killed chickens, and helped his father dress a deer more than once or twice. But he’d had a soft spot of rabbits.
He’d never been able to eat rabbit stew, no matter how well his mother made the meal. And so he’d continued to hesitate when a rabbit crossed their path.
Perry, of course, had never hesitated. By the end of their four hours, he had collected five hares.
“You’re the worst hunter I’ve ever seen in my life,” Perry scoffed.
“I’m just having a bad day. That’s all.”
“I think you’re chicken. I think you’re afraid to hurt the little rabbit.” He’d changed his voice to a child’s, slurring the words slightly. “Is that what’s wrong, Jacob? You don’t want to hurt the bunnies?”
“Perry, you were with me when I landed the buck last Thanksgiving. I’m obviously not afraid to shoot my shotgun.”
“But today you’ve hardly done more than hold that gun.”
“You’ve gotten plenty of rabbits. If I’d really wanted to shoot a rabbit, I would have.” He started walking, hoping Perry would let the subject drop.
But Perry never let things drop that he didn’t want to. “Prove it,” he whispered.
Jacob turned his way. “Prove it how?”
Perry pointed. And sure enough, there in the distance was a pair of rabbits. It was obvious that they’d known they’d been spotted. They were frozen in their spots like rabbits often were. Their brown fur blended in well with the bark of the oak tree behind them. So well, a person with weaker eyesight might not even have spied them.
“They’re yours,” Perry said generously. “Shoot them.”
“We have enough.”
“Do it. Do it or I’ll know you’re chicken.”
Jacob lifted the eyepiece to his eye and pulled the trigger. Through the finder, the rabbit flinched then went still as Jacob’s shotgun shell had found its mark. The rabbit’s companion paused for a half-second, then ran through the brush.
Lowering the rifle, he glared at Perry. “Happy?”
“Whatever,” Perry said, and started walking.
Jacob realized that Perry hadn’t even expected him to go get the hare. And he didn’t want to. He ached to leave it on the ground, ached to turn around and pretend it had never happened.
But he couldn’t even do that.
With a pounding heart, he walked over to the dead rabbit, picked it up by its hind legs, and carried it home. And then he forced himself to skin and gut it and give it to his mother to cook.
Jacob recalled that he couldn’t eat the stew, and that he had promised himself to never speak of it again—because, he’d realized then, that there were worse things than being called chicken.
And that was being called a kil
ler.
The front door of the store opened, thankfully blocking out the rest of the memories. “May I help you?” he asked the man he didn’t recognize.
“You got any fresh bread?”
“Jah, sure.” He escorted the man to the bakery section and showed him the fresh loaves that had been delivered from the bakery on the other side of Marion.
After, a few more customers came in, not the usual crowd, but continually steady. More than enough to keep his mind off of the memories and the guilt.
The store was empty when the bell at the front door chimed again. Looking up, he smiled, “Hey, Deborah.”
“Hello.”
“Did you come here to check up on me or to work?”
She paused, a secret smile on her lips. “Maybe a little bit of both.”
“That wasn’t necessary. It’s pretty quiet in here. I don’t need the help. I’m fine.”
Looking at him carefully, she shook her head. “No, you need the help.”
“Why is that?”
“You don’t have either of your father’s kittens out for show.”
“I fed them this morning, but they seemed happy enough in their cage.”
“Your father wants them out for sale. Go get them, Jacob.”
“I don’t want the kittens out.”
“I know. Do it anyway.”
With a jerk, he turned and tromped back to the storage room. Predictably, the kittens were nestled together, looking completely at peace. When he picked up the cage, they sprang apart, like lovers caught in a compromising position. “Sorry, cats,” he said as he carried them forward.
“Deb, I don’t know if anyone’s going to want either of these cats.”
“Someone might. Next time I work, I’m going to suggest people get them as a pair. It would be a shame to divide them up, don’tcha think?”
“I don’t know how you’re going to get anyone to buy the pair. Most folks only want one pet at a time.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Not if we offer them as a buy one get one free.”
“A two for one deal, hmm?”
“I think that would be a bargain.” Looking at the cats, now glaring at them both like prospective dinners, Deborah chuckled. “My advice is we aim for a quick sale.”
He laughed. “I can’t believe we’re standing here, worrying about these stupid cats.” To his dismay, in a split second, his laughter turned into tears.
Ashamed and furious, he attempted to wipe off his cheeks and his eyes, but he couldn’t seem stop the flood. “Sorry,” he blurted. “Oh my gosh. I don’t know why I’m doing this.”
“Have you cried yet?”
For what? He wanted to ask. For his mistakes? For Perry’s death? For his father’s lies? For the future they were all now destined to have? A life with a father in jail? “No,” he finally said. “I haven’t cried.”
“Then it’s time, I think.”
“I’m fine.” But two more traitorous tears rushed down his cheeks.
He was just attempting to apologize yet again when two arms reached around him and held him close. Deborah was tiny, her head barely reaching his shoulder. And her bones and frame were slim. She shouldn’t have been able to support him at all.
But somehow she did. Somehow, being in her arms—being held close and comforted—felt right. He leaned closer and let the tears fall.
She rubbed her hand in between his shoulder blades. “It’s okay, Jacob,” she murmured.
But it wasn’t. He should be tougher, stronger. Not a coward. “I . . . I . . .” he sputtered. Somehow he couldn’t seem to catch his breath for long enough to form words.
“I know,” she whispered. “I know you’re upset. You have every right to be.”
With effort he raised his head. “I’m better now.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Nee. I don’t think so.” Straightening, she said, “And I don’t think the two of us standing this way is good.”
He was just about to agree, to say that he completely agreed that they shouldn’t be holding each other in the middle of the store, when she pulled him to the counter.
“Deborah?”
To his surprise, she hopped up on the counter just like she was a child. And then she held open her arms. “Come here, Jacob.”
Next thing he knew, he was walking into her arms all over again. Resting his head on her slim shoulder. And though his tears had subsided, the need to feel the comfort of Deborah was stronger than ever.
And so he stayed where he was, nestled in the comfort of her arms. Once again blocking out the pain. Concentrating only on the moment.
Chapter 26
“It would be difficult for me to pinpoint exactly when Perry started down the wrong path. That’s because a lot of paths don’t seem all that wrong at first, you know? Sometimes they seem like the right way.”
MOSE KRAMER
I just talked to county. The bus is going to pick up Aaron Schrock within the hour.”
The bus, of course, was from the county jail. It was standard procedure to take all of the accused there while they awaited bail. And because the district attorney had set the bail fairly high, Luke doubted Aaron would be getting let out anytime soon.
Taking a seat across from Mose, Luke kicked his leg out. It was still stiff, but it didn’t continuously ache like it used to. Not even when the rain had begun to fall again.
“I wish it would stop raining.”
His friend shrugged off his complaint in his usual relaxed way. “Wishes and dreams, you know. The weathermen say it’s here to stay for a while. Maybe through the weekend.”
“Just my luck.”
“You upset? What’s wrong, Luke? You got a hot date?”
“Maybe.” He had planned to see Frannie later, but that wasn’t what had him restless. “I guess I’m having a hard time believing it’s over.”
Mose picked up the eight-inch pile of folders and papers from the corner of his desk. “I’ve got lots of other cases and work to take care of. I’m glad it’s over. Most of all, I’m glad we found the right person. I sure wasn’t happy when I thought our culprit was Jacob.”
“I liked his dad, too.”
“Me too.” Mose shrugged. “Aaron’s been a good friend to me for a long time. But you know as well as I, Luke, that sometimes it’s a fine line between a man doing something honorable and contemptible. When Aaron made that choice, he crossed the line.”
“I agree.” He felt weak for even admitting his feelings. What kind of officer even thought about regrets? “Sorry. Don’t know why I’m talking like this.”
“You’re not saying anything I haven’t thought as well. Aaron getting arrested is going to shake things up around here.”
Slowly getting to his feet, Luke walked over to Mose. “When I first got to Crittenden County, I thought you needed my help.”
“I did. I called you. Don’t you recall?”
“No, what I mean is, I thought you needed my help because I was a better detective.”
Mose raised his brows. “Luke, you are—”
“I’m not. I learned a lot from working by your side, Mose. You taught me a lot about trusting your instincts, and to stop looking at cases from a distance. You taught me to take things personal, and to remember why we do things. To help others. I’m grateful to you for that.”
“You’re welcome, though I think you’re giving me too much credit.”
That was vintage Mose, wasn’t it? Always humble. Never wanting the spotlight or the accolades. “No, Mose, I don’t think I can ever give you too much credit.”
Whatever Mose would have said next was a mystery, because the bus from the county jail drove up. Frowning, he stood up and walked to the front door.
“There are some days I’m glad I’m not doing my job alone. Today’s one of those da
ys,” Mose said as he went to greet the van driver.
Luke felt the same way. He turned toward the back hall to go fetch Aaron. At least he could spare Mose from having to escort his friend to the county jail.
Walker? Where are you?”
“I’m in the back hallway, Grandma,” Walker replied. “I’ll be right there.”
But before he could get to his feet, his grandma had popped her head in. After her eagle eyes spied him sitting on his father’s old bench, sore and dirty and exhausted, she bustled forward. “Walker, you look tuckered out.”
That would be an understatement. “I am. I think I walked more than that pair of horses. I know I stepped in every single hole and patch of mud in that field.”
“You might have.” Her lips twitched. “I fear the horses are taking advantage of you.”
“Is that even possible?”
“I fear that it is. Horses are smart animals. They can spy an easy target from a hundred yards away. You aren’t used to telling them what to do—they most likely figured that out right quick.”
Walker would have been ashamed of his uselessness . . . if he weren’t so tired. “Plowing fields is a lot harder than it looks, Mommi.”
“Most things are.”
Very aware of how sweaty he was, he shifted. “I’m going to go shower in just a minute. I was just resting.” He pushed back a lock of his hair with two fingers on his right hand, which weren’t blistered.
Right away his grandmother noticed. Taking hold of both of his hands, she turned them palm up and then winced at the sight. “Oh, Walker! Your hands are in terrible shape. When did this happen?”
He looked at the scabs that had formed on top of his old blisters and the quarter-sized sore that had formed on his left palm. “When I was trying to guide the horses.” And when he’d chopped wood for hours. And had to mend a couple of fences. And mucked-out stalls.
“You should have said something.”
“There was no need. I’m fine.”
“You are definitely not fine.” With a clicking motion, she looped her fingers around his wrist and pulled him out of the doorway and into the kitchen. When they got to the sink, she ran the faucet. When she deemed the temperature warm enough, she scooted him closer. “Wash.”
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