Found (19 page)

Also by Shelley Shepard Gray

Sisters of the Heart series

Hidden

Wanted

Forgiven

Grace

Seasons of Sugarcreek series

Winter's
Awakening

Spring's Renewal

Autumn's Promise

Christmas in
Sugarcreek

Families of Honor

The Caregiver

The Protector

The Survivor

The Secrets of Crittenden County

Missing

The Search

Read on for an exciting preview of Shelley Shepard Gray's next book,

Daybreak

These shall wake the yawning maid;

She the door shall open—

Finding dew on garden glade

And the morning broken.

FROM “
N
IGHT AND
D
AY,” BY
R
OBERT
L
OUIS
S
TEVENSON

January

Berlin, OH

The moment Viola Keim entered the main parlor of the Mennonite retirement home where she worked, she heard her favorite resident calling her name.

“Viola, come here quick,” Mr. Swartz ordered. “I received another letter from Edward this mornin'.”

After straightening her black apron over her purple dress and smoothing a wayward strand of hair under her white
kapp,
Viola grabbed a carafe of coffee, and did as he bid. She tried to summon a smile. Atle Swartz adored his son. Nothing could make his day like a letter from Edward.

Unfortunately, Viola could think of a dozen other things she'd rather do than listen to more news from the wayward Ed Swartz. She privately thought Ed sounded like a jerk.

Mr. Swartz's eyebrows clamped together as he glared at her. “What's wrong with your feet? You're walking so slow, you'd think they were cobbled together.”

“I'm holding a pot of coffee, Mr. Swartz,” she retorted. “I've no desire to spill it on the carpet or myself. Or you,” she said with a small smile as she filled his coffee cup. “It would be a real shame if I stained the carpet. Or burned someone,” she said with a wink.

“You haven't burned me yet, Viola.”

“There's still time. I've only been working here six months,” she teased.

“Feels longer.”

It did, indeed. Six short months ago, after a series of interviews, she'd gotten the job as an assistant at the Daybreak Retirement Home. Right from the start she'd hit it off with the seventy-four-year-old gentleman. He was a spry man, with lots of energy and a biting wit. Somehow, he'd taken to teasing her, and she'd learned to give as good as she got.

Now she looked forward to visiting with him every day.

Though, truth be told, she didn't think he belonged there. He was too young to be in a retirement home. In her opinion, all Atle Swartz needed was someone to look out for him every once in a while. To do a little cleaning, and to make sure he had his coffee and supper.

Actually, what he really needed was his son. After all, it was a child's duty to look after his parents in their declining years. Not be off gallivanting in South America.

Not that it was any of her business.

Taking a seat beside him, she poured herself a cup of coffee as well and pretended she was eager to hear every word the illustrious Ed Swartz wrote. “I can't wait to hear what he has to say,” she lied. “What a wonderful
-gut
way to start my day.”

When Atle narrowed his eyes over the brim of his cup, she felt her cheeks heat. Perhaps she had laid things on a bit thick. “Is the coffee all right?”

“
Jah.
It is fine . . .” Carefully, he unfolded the letter smoothly on the table in front of him. “Viola, are you certain you want to hear the letter? I'm beginning to get the feeling you don't enjoy my son's letters all that much.”

Now she felt terrible. Sharing his only child's letters were the highlight of Atle's day, and she was ruining it by letting her personal feelings get in the way. “Of course I want to hear it, Mr. Swartz. You know I enjoy sitting with you.” Now that was the God's honest truth.

Two men sitting on a nearby couch cackled.

“You'd best watch it, Viola,” one of them called out, his smile broad over a graying beard. “Atle's going to read every single word of Ed's letter. Might even read it twice, just to make sure you didn't miss a single thing. You won't be able to attend to anyone else for at least an hour.”

“I guess I'll simply have to hope that you won't need me anytime soon, Mr. Miller,” she said sweetly, smiling when the men chuckled again.

The camaraderie she'd found with the residents of the home brought joy to her heart. She loved working with the elderly Mennonite folks in the area, loved feeling like she was making a difference in their lives.

“Girly, you ready to listen?” Two raps on the table with his knuckles brought her back to the present.

“Of course,” she replied mildly. Truly, one day she was going to tell him that she was twenty-two years old. Too old to be called “Girly.” “Ah, what does Edward have to say this time?”

After casting a sideways glance her way, he cleared his throat and began. “Dear Daed, greetings from Nicaragua. It's cold here, but my heart is warm from all the good works we've been doing with the children in the area. . . .”

As Mr. Swartz continued to read about Ed and his mission work, Viola tried to imagine what would possess a man to leave everything he knew and loved to attend to people so far away. Though, of course, he was doing many good things with the Christian Aid Ministries, there was much in Holmes County, Ohio, that he could focus on.

Most especially, his wonderful father.

As Atle continued to read, stopping every now and then to repeat what his son said—just to make sure Viola didn't miss a single word—she felt her attention drift. Edward's stories, while impressive and heartfelt, simply didn't mean that much to her. Not when she had plenty of concerns right here in Berlin.

She couldn't imagine walking away from her family, it was so tight-knit and demanding. Though her family was New Order Amish, not Mennonite like the residents here, she found that her traditions and values weren't much different than the folks she helped.

That said, she was so grateful for the many blessings God had graced her with. She'd grown up in a beautiful white house, part of the newest addition to their already sprawling property that had first been built in the 1920's. She was close to her grandparents, who lived in the
Dawdi Haus
behind them, and close to her parents, and to the few aunts and uncles who hadn't moved far away.

She'd always gotten along fine with her brother, Roman, and her twin sister, Elsie, as well.

Of course, things would likely start changing soon. After all, she and her siblings were all of marriageable age. One day, she and Roman would get married and move on.

But no matter what happened, she intended to live close and continue to help Elsie. Her sister was surely always going to need a lot of help. Born with a degenerative eye disease, Elsie would likely need at least one of them to look out for her for the rest of her life.

Just imagining the idea of leaving Elsie in the care of strangers made her heart clench.

Thank goodness neither she nor Roman were like Ed Swartz!

“. . . and so, Daed, I must let you go. The children are about to open their shoe boxes and I don't want to miss a minute.”

That caught her attention. “Shoe boxes?” she blurted. “Why in the world does he need to hurry to open a shoe box?”

“It was Christmas, Viola,” Atle said with more than a touch of exaggerated patience. “Weren't you listening?”

Oh!

“There's only one right answer, Viola!” Mr. Miller called out. “Otherwise, you'll be hearing that there letter again, mark my words.”

After giving her heckler a disapproving frown, she got to her feet. “Of course I was listening, Mr. Swartz. Once again, your son, Edward, seems to be having a mighty fulfilling and charitable life. I was just caught off guard by the mention of the shoe boxes. That's all.”

But Atle didn't buy her words for even a minute. “It was Christmas, Girly. This was his Christmas letter. Those boxes were from us! Our shoe box ministry! Don'tcha remember?”

“Sorry. I had forgotten.”

“I didn't.”

With more patience than her parents would have ever guessed she had, she smiled tightly. “I'm sorry, Mr. Swartz. It's simply that, uh, I thought he would have been talking about something else by now. It is the end of January, you know.”

“He's far away. All the way in Nicaragua,” he said slowly. Pulling out the country's name like she had trouble understanding things. “The letters take a long time to get here.”

Feeling her cheeks heat all over again, she tucked her chin. “Oh.
Jah.
I mean, yes, of course. Thank you for reading it to me.”

“But don't you want to talk about the letter? I'm sure you have questions . . .”

The only question she ever had was “why.” As in why did Ed never ask his father how he was doing? As in why didn't he ever come back to visit? Why didn't he care enough to stay close to home?

But, of course, it was best to keep those things to herself. She didn't want to hurt Mr. Swartz's feelings for the world. “The letter was so thoughtful, so detailed . . . I um, I don't have a single question. And I had better deliver more of this coffee before it all runs cold. You know that Mrs. Decker expects me to visit with several people this morning. Have a good day, now.”

The spark in his blue eyes faded. “You're certain you can't stay for a bit longer? I have some more news to share.”

Oh, he was lonely. It broke her heart. “I'm so sorry, I can't stay today.” She just wasn't up to hearing one more story about his perfect child. “I've got quite a bit to do before I leave.”

“Well, all right, then. Have a good day, Viola.”

“You too, Mr. Swartz.”

After topping off his cup, and refilling the other two men's mugs, she rushed out of the room and went to the kitchen, where she put coffee and snacks on a tray for the ladies in the craft room. Balancing too much on the white wooden tray, she hurried out of the kitchen, turned left, and then headed toward the back of the building.

When two cups started to wobble, she abruptly stopped and set them to rights. Then rushed forward, and promptly ran into a man leaving the head office.

When their bodies collided, the plastic bowls of snack mix fell to the ground. And the coffee carafe began to wobble.

“Watch out!” she said as she tried to gain control of the tray.

Two capable-looking hands reached out and pulled the tray from her. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice deep and steady and strong-sounding. Almost as steady and strong as his hands looked. “You almost ended up wearing that coffee.”

Feeling a true mixture of relief and embarrassment, she looked up into the speaker's eyes.

And noticed that his dark blue eyes were tinged with gold. Much like a certain older gentleman's. “Oh!” she gasped.

“What?”

“You . . . you look much like one of our residents.”

“Atle Swartz?”

“Yes. Are you a relation?”

“You could say that. I'm Edward Swartz.”

If his unusual eyes hadn't given him away, his tan and square jaw would have. The man looked like a carbon copy of his father. Well, a younger, spryer, tanner version of him.

“You finally came back?” she blurted. Before she could stop herself.

“Finally?”

She bit her lip as Mrs. Decker came out of her office. “Is everything all right, Viola?”

“Oh,
jah
.”

Mrs. Decker stared at the tray the man was holding. “Any reason Ed here is holding the coffee tray?”

“
Nee.
” With a jerk, she pulled the tray from his hands. “
Danke
. Um. Excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Hey, I'll be happy to help you,” he said after the administrator turned to the right and walked down the hall. Leaving the two of them alone again. “That tray is fairly heavy.”

“I can manage just fine.” Unable to stop herself, she raised a brow. “Besides, don't you think it's time you went to see your father?”

She turned without waiting for an answer.

But still, her cheeks burned with shame for her behavior. And for the fact that as much as she didn't like him . . . she couldn't help but notice he was as handsome as she'd imagined.

Ed Swartz stood in the middle of the black-and-white-tiled hallway, more than a little perturbed. First she almost spilled coffee on him, then acted like he was about to mug her when he helped her with the tray . . .

Then had reprimanded him. Like he was a wayward child.

What was her problem? Was she just in a bad mood, or had she really gotten upset that he'd knocked into her?

Hmm. Maybe he was simply used to the kindness of the people he worked with in Nicaragua. The people there had so little, they were thankful for the smallest amount of care.

“Can I help you, young man?”

An elderly lady wearing polyester tan slacks, white tennis shoes, and a bright blue sweater pointed to the sign-in sheet. “If you're visiting, you've got to sign in. It's the rules.”

“Sorry. I guess I got distracted.” After signing his name, he said, “Can you tell me where I might find Atle Swartz?”

A wave of emotion transformed her face. “Are you his son?”

“Yes, ma'am. Edward.”

“All the way from your mission trip? Praise God!”

She darted around the welcome desk, squeezed his arm, and practically dragged him to their left. “Your father is going to be so happy to see you!”

He doubted his father's happiness would hold a candle to his own. He'd missed his father terribly during his two-year absence.

But his steps slowed when he caught sight of him, sitting in his wheelchair in front of the gas-lit fireplace. His father looked older, frailer.

“Daed?”

His father's head popped up. Stared at him like he'd risen from the dead. “Edward? Edward!”

As Ed crossed the room and wrapped his father in a hug, he realized nothing else needed to be said. For now, they were together, and nothing else mattered. With effort, he pushed all thoughts of the woman with the pretty brown eyes from his mind.