Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One (11 page)

“Grandma, I don’t think I’ve ever been out here before.”

“No, I didn’t think you had. It’s a
gut
garden, don’tcha think?”

“It looks bigger up close than from your porch.”

“Most things do look bigger up close, I imagine.” Still sipping on her lemonade, she scanned the area. “This garden gives me great comfort, Abby.”

“I bet.”

“It didn’t used to. Used to be, when my
mamm
would send me out to weed, I’d wish I was anywhere but here.” She frowned slightly. “I promise, no one could think of as many other
important
things to do instead of weeding than I could.”

Abby grinned. “I’m trying to imagine you shirking chores. I can’t.”

Bending down, Grandma scooped up a small handful of dirt and cupped it in her hand. “One day when I was working so hard to do anything but what I was supposed to . . . something occurred to me.” Her hand splayed out and the dark rich soil fell through her fingers back to the earth.

After watching it land with a satisfied smile, she glanced Abby’s way. “I realized that weeding the unwanted debris makes the plants we’re nurturing have more room to grow. When I made that decision, I didn’t mind being out in the garden near as much. Abby, maybe you, too, should stop fighting what is in front of you. Perhaps you should put aside some of your worries and concentrate on what is really bothering you.”

“I’m not fighting anything—and I already know what is really bothering me. I need a new start, Grandma.”

“Maybe what you need is to stop and give thanks for what you have to be grateful for—your family, your friends . . . even your independence. Perhaps it is time to look at it all in a new way.” Poking the dirt with one finger, she grinned. “Ah, look at that, wouldja? Another dandelion weed.” With a fierce tug, she pulled it from the soil. “Ah, now I am sure this tomato plant will have room to grow.” Turning to her, she said, “Abby, it’s time. . . . It’s time to let the past stay in the past and spend some time with some people your age.”

Her grandmother was speaking in riddles. “But I like being with you and Grandpa.”

“We like you being here, but for you to only be here . . . it’s not right.”

She flushed. “Grandma, I haven’t been spending so much time here because I’m avoiding my life.”

Grandma Francis raised her brows but said nothing.

Which made Abby realize it was time to blurt the truth. “I’ve been coming over because I think I want to be like you two. I want to be Amish.” Abby held her breath, half prepared for her grandmother to start tearing up. Or get all emotional and hug her close.

Telling her how happy she was.

But instead, her grandmother leaned back on her heels and looked anything but happy. “Oh, Abigail. Truly?”

The lump that had been forming in her throat almost choked her as Abby struggled to express herself. “I’ve thought about it a lot, Grandma. A whole lot.”

“Hmm.”

She rushed on. “Because I’ve been thinking about this so much, I’m sure becoming Amish is the right thing for me. I don’t like makeup and I do like to help you can vegetables.”

“I see.” Her tone sounded skeptical. “No makeup and liking vegetables . . . these things mean you should change your whole life?”

“Of course not. But you know what I mean.” Feeling slightly foolish, Abby pressed her case. “Plus, if I become Amish, I can stay here with you and help you. All day long.”

“And you think I need all that help?”

Gesturing toward the fields where Grandpa James was out walking, she said, “This is a big farm, Grandma. Plus, if I’m here, helping you, I won’t have to go to school anymore. Or go to college.”

“Ach.”

Abby flinched at the word. Warily, she glanced at her grandmother.

Her quick glance turned into a full-fledged gaping stare as she realized what was happening. Yep, it was true. Her grandmother was laughing. “Grandma? Are you laughing at me?”

A lined hand clasped her shoulder and pulled her close. Next thing she knew, Abby was being hugged by two thin arms with a force so strong and stalwart that it didn’t seem like anything could disturb it. “I’m not laughing at you, child. Well, not too much.”

“But I thought you’d be happy with my decision.”

“Hmm. You’ve certainly taken me by surprise.”

“I promise, I’ve thought a lot about this. And I’m serious, Grandma. I think I’d be a great Amish woman.”

Her grandmother stepped away and led the way from the garden. She seemed to be deep in thought as they walked back to the house. Abby took that as a sign to be patient.

When they got to the front porch, her grandmother sat on the front stoop and gestured Abby to sit next to her. “You don’t have to be Amish for me to love you, Granddaughter.”

“I know that. I want to be Amish because I think I’ll fit in better.”

“You fit in with your grandfather and me just fine.”

“I mean I’ll fit in better with everyone else.”

“And have you mentioned this decision to your family? It seems a mighty big one to make.”

“I told Walker.”

“What about your parents, Abby?” she asked patiently. “What about your father?”

Abby shrank from the question. Though her dad had always made it clear that he loved his parents dearly, it had also been very clear that he had no regrets about the choices he’d made regarding his religion.

And though she’d never asked him what he might think if she became Amish, she instinctively knew he would be upset. “I haven’t told my parents,” she finally admitted.

“Your father is going to be upset about this news.”

“Probably. But I bet you and Grandpa didn’t like the choice he made.” Feeling wise beyond her years, Abby said, “Grandma, I think everyone, sometime, has to decide how to live life . . . even if it doesn’t make other people happy.”

“What you say is true . . . but I still think you should take things more slowly.”

“How old was my dad when he told you and Grandpa his decision?”

She blinked, looking completely taken aback by the question. “When he was about your age.”

“So I’m not too young to know my own mind.”

“You’re never too young.” Her grandmother hesitated. “It’s just that I don’t want you to have regrets. With your father, we knew he wasn’t suited for our way of life. He was impatient and dreamy. Always.” Looking beyond Abby, she added, “He was a good worker here, but he lit up when he was around the English. He loved learning and mechanical things, and a faster way of life.”

“So he knew.”

“
Jah.
But I, for one, think it is easier to step out into the world than retreat into our ways. You would be giving up a lot. Coming to visit and canning is not embracing our way of life. You might change your mind.”

“Or I might not.” Feeling braver, she added, “Grandma, Walker wasn’t all that surprised.”

“No, I wouldn’t think he would be,” she mused. “Your brother has always had a way about him that was older and thoughtful.”

Abby’s pride stung. It sounded to her like her grandmother thought Walker would be a better Amish than she would.

This wasn’t how she’d planned for the conversation to go. She’d imagined her grandmother being so excited about her announcement.

Not pushing off her statement like she was an immature kid.

Slowly, she got to her feet. “I’m going to go find my cell phone and ask Walker to come pick me up.”

“You want to leave already? I thought you were going to keep me company all day.”

Once again, Abby felt as if she was being talked down to. “Grandma, I’m kind of upset right now.”

“Abby, dear, look at me.”

When Abby met her gaze, she noticed that her grandmother’s eyes looked just as contemplative and serious as she felt inside.

“Abby, just because I’m worried about you, it doesn’t mean I don’t trust your feelings. If you truly want to think about joining the order, I will be more than happy to help you.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “But we’re going to take things slowly. I’m going to talk about my life and about what I do every day. You’re going to listen and think, truly think if this is the lifestyle for you.” Pointing to the pile of weeds, she said, “And you are going to promise me you’re going to pull away all the things that don’t matter from your mind . . . And then we’re going to pray. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Grandma lifted a finger. “And then, after you’ve prayed and thought and been patient, we’ll talk to your parents. No way do I want to start doing things without your parents knowing.”

“But what if they don’t agree?”

“Oh, I don’t think they will!” She smiled then, taking the sting out of her words. “But if you are as grown up as you say you are, you won’t worry about that so much. And you’ll figure out how to honor your parents while honoring your goals, too.”

Abby felt dismayed. She’d always thought of her grandmother as a very kind and reserved woman. Someone who kept to herself and didn’t ever risk hurting other people’s feelings.

But now she realized she’d been seeing her grandmother from a child’s point of view. Now with fresh eyes, she realized that her grandmother was actually a very strong woman. A woman who was willing to step forward—and step on toes—if she thought the situation merited it.

“Abby, what do you say to my plan?”

There was only one answer. Getting to her feet, she said, “It’s a fine plan.”

“Even if it takes years?”

Abby started. “Years? I had thought we could do this a little more quickly.”

“
Nee.
It does not happen like that, Abby. If you are serious about being Amish, you will have to learn to wait for the Lord’s timeline.”

“Oh.”

“All right, then.” After she clambered to her feet, she brushed her skirts. “Let’s go visit the hens, then.”

“What are we going to do?”

“You are going to gather eggs.”

“What if one of the hens gets mad?”

“You’ll get pecked, I imagine.” Her grandmother chuckled at the expression Abby wasn’t able to hide. “Come now, Miss Amish In Training. You want to live my life, you’d best get used to making friends with my hens . . . and their beaks. Just be glad I don’t ask you to wring one of their necks.”

“That’s gross, Mommi.”

“
Nee,
that’s being Amish,” Grandma said with a chuckle.

Abby found herself grinning as she followed her grandmother—and as she realized that she was finally feeling hope instead of despair.

Chapter 13

“Of course I knew Perry. We all did. But that doesn’t mean any of us knew him well.”

F
RANNIE
E
ICHER

L
uke walked down to the first floor of the bed-and-breakfast he was currently living in, saw Frannie Eicher, and almost turned right back around.

But Frannie saw him first. “Mr. Reynolds, hello there.
Gut matin!
And how are you today?”

The owner of the B&B was a young woman, petite and slim and possessing pale eyes that seemed a true mix of gray and light blue. Her skin was fair and her hair was a rich auburn color. But all that youthful beauty was wasted on a know-it-all attitude.

The fact was, she nearly drove Luke crazy every time their paths crossed.

He knew it made no sense. Frannie was nothing if not polite. She cooked well, and ran the inn diligently.

But her close tabs on his coming and going made him feel like he was living in a prison instead of a well-run inn.

At the moment, he ached for the cool anonymity of a Motel 6. “I’m just, ah, going to the dining room to get some coffee.”

She paused, a line of worry appearing between her brows. “Mr. Reynolds, I’m afraid I’ve put away my coffeepot.”

“At nine
A.M.
?”

“It is nine thirty, actually.”

She loved to do that. Loved to correct him. “Okay. You’ve already put away the coffee at nine thirty?”

Instead of looking embarrassed, she met his gaze directly. “I’m terribly sorry for your inconvenience. I’ve been up for hours you see, and my other two guests ate at seven. I thought, perhaps, you had decided to sleep in.”

Her simple explanation made him feel like squirming. She seemed to have the same effect on him as Mrs. Creighton, his second grade teacher. “Coming downstairs at nine thirty in the morning is hardly sleeping in. I would have thought you would have been used to guests relaxing. I mean, isn’t that what people are supposed to do here?”

His words obviously hit their mark because she flinched, then blushed. “Perhaps you are right. Well, I can go make you a fresh pot of coffee now. If that is what you would like.”

Her tone sounded like she was about to actually pick the beans, roast, and grind them. “That’s okay. Don’t put yourself out on my account. I’ll get coffee at a restaurant or something.”

“Mr. Reynolds, you paid for breakfast.”

“But you didn’t save me any.” She looked so affronted, he said, “And listen, like I’ve said before, please call me Luke. The only Mr. Reynolds I know is my father.”

“Well, you are the only Mr. Reynolds I know.”

There she went again, challenging him about nothing. “Just call me Luke, would you?” he asked again, his voice turning sharper. “Why in the world do you make everything so difficult?” He hurried to the door, anxious to get out of there.

But her melodic voice stopped him in his tracks. “Luke, I don’t mean to pry, but are you all right?”

There was new concern in her voice. He turned around. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well, I know I put away the breakfast things, but that really was because I didn’t think you wanted any. Every other morning, you were downstairs by seven. And now you’re going out for coffee this late. That’s not like you.”

This was what made him prickly. In the city, no one butted in on your life, your comings and goings. Now that he had slept in, he felt like he was about to get a talking-to. “I overslept,” he finally admitted. “I was up late working on notes.”

He waited for the comment. Because, he was learning, Frannie never let an opportunity to share her opinion slide. One second passed. Two.

“Ah,” she said.

That was it? Feeling curiously let down, he folded his arms over his chest and glared her way. “I’m waiting.”

Her brows rose in confusion. “For what?”

“For you to say something about me not sleeping when the sun went down. About how I probably won’t be able to do my job if I’m wasting the morning. Come on, I know you’re dying to tell me what you think.”

“I most certainly am not. What you do in your room is hardly any of my business,” she said in a rush. “We both know that.”

He might have believed her if her cheeks hadn’t turned so pink.

Because what they both also knew was that she’d practically made it her goal in life to get into his business. Some days, it seemed like it was all she did, noticing when he was coming and going. “It may not be any of your business, but that doesn’t usually stop you.”

Her pale eyes flashed hurt. “Mr. Reynolds, I don’t know why you are so upset with me. I already told you I’d be happy to make you coffee. And I most certainly have not gone out of my way to comment on your life.”

“Come on, don’t disappoint me now. Ever since I’ve gotten here, you’ve commented on my days, on what I eat. I’m surprised you haven’t started chiding me about taking vitamins or something.”

A multitude of emotions flickered across her face. Before she looked at him directly. “Are you taking Vitamin C?”

“See—“ he began. Then stopped when he spied the mirth in her eyes.

She was making fun of him. Teasing.

Running a hand through his hair, he felt as cool and collected as a jar of captured bees. “Sorry. I guess I couldn’t have been more rude, huh?”

“You could have . . . if you’d asked me my age and weight.”

He blinked, then felt his face flush like a teen. Because, well, even though she drove him as crazy as a loon, he’d never once had found fault with her appearance. She really was one of the prettiest women he’d ever met.

Not that she needed to know that.

“This investigation has been challenging,” he finally said. “Plus, all the rain has been making my leg ache like a . . .” He paused, trying to think of a suitable analogy for Frannie’s ears. “Like a burn.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Ache like a
burn
?”

Now he just felt foolish. And he needed caffeine fast. “Listen, I’m going to get out of here. I’m afraid I used up all my good manners about two days ago. Now I’m just wandering around the county asking questions that no one will answer.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop. Hey, I know I’m being difficult. I’ll do my best to make sure our paths don’t cross anytime soon.”

He waited, ready for her to come up with some kind of snippy retort, one that would put him in his place. But instead, she stepped forward and clasped her hands primly behind her back.

“Are you hungry?”

Her simple question spurred a simple response. “Yes.”

“I can make you some breakfast while your coffee brews. Would you care for some bacon and eggs?”

Already his mouth was watering. “That sounds great.”

She nodded. “All right ,then. If you come to the kitchen in ten minutes or so, I shall have it ready for you.”

“Thank you, Frannie.”

“You are very welcome . . . Luke.”

When she turned away, Luke pretended he wasn’t thinking about how tiny her waist was. How he could probably span it with his two hands. Or that he kind of liked how she stood up to him—most women didn’t.

And how very different she was from Renee.

As Frannie disappeared from sight, Luke took a seat on the bench by the front door and straightened his leg.

And thought about the woman he’d been sure he was going to marry one day.

When things settled down. As soon as they both had gotten tired of dating and clubs. When their careers were on track. When they both had some vacation time coming and could fit it into their schedules.

Renee was driven and forthright and successful. A lawyer.

She enjoyed the idea of dating a cop.

He enjoyed how she’d never asked too much of him. How she gave him a little bit of class on his arm, and how she always called before showing up at his apartment.

Now he couldn’t believe how foolish he’d been. Had he really thought that love and marriage could be fit into his life like a lunch break?

Which just went to show—he’d probably been in Crittenden County too long. The last thing in the world he needed was to start feeling something for one of the women who lived here.

Too bad his conscience wasn’t relaying that message to the rest of his body. Because all it seemed to be thinking about was a hot breakfast and a surprisingly tender smile.

And all his heart was thinking was that it was nice to be around a woman so different than Renee. So different from just about anyone else he’d ever met.

L
ydia, when are you coming back to work?” her sister Becky asked in that melodramatic way of hers.

Without looking up from the fabric she was carefully cutting out, she answered. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you think you’ve been sitting around long enough? Reuben says you have.”

Surprised, Lydia turned to her. The line that always formed between her seven-year-old sister’s brows when she was disturbed about something was there, alive and well. “I’ve hardly been sitting around at all, not that it’s any of Reuben’s business. After all, I’m working on a quilt now. Right?”

Becky stepped forward and fingered the one square Lydia had pieced together. The flower box quilt pattern was a favorite of theirs, and Lydia knew that the contrasting shades of yellows and white were going to fetch a terrific price at the local craft store.

That is, if she could bear to put it up for sale.

“It’s real pretty,” Becky pronounced. “But it ain’t work.”

“I don’t need to work all the time,” she snapped. Really, hadn’t she done enough in her twenty years? Didn’t anyone ever think she did enough? “Becky, I don’t even know why we’re discussing my days. What I do—or don’t do—isn’t any of your business.”

“I think it is.”

“And why is that?”

“Because when you don’t do something, the rest of us have to do it.”

“You’re only seven. I promise, you’re not expected to do too much.”

“But Reuben says that because you are sittin’ around, working on a quilt, he’s running around at the nursery like a chicken with its head cut off.”

Lydia couldn’t believe her brother had said such things to their little sister. Determined to put an end to it, she said, “I’ve worked plenty, Becky. Don’t act like I haven’t.”

Pure irritation flared in her sister’s eyes before she turned and walked toward the door.

But just as Lydia picked up another swatch of fabric, her sister turned back around. “I saw you with that
Englischer
.”

It took every ounce of patience Lydia possessed to not clench her hands and wrinkle the fabric she was holding. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you with that boy. The one who came to the nursery with his mother.”

It wasn’t easy, but she played dumb. “I have no idea who you’re talking about. Lots of folks come with their parents to the nursery.”

“I think his name is Walker. I heard he knew Perry, too. And, I know that you’re playing dumb with me now.”

Embarrassed to get put on the spot by a seven-year-old, Lydia lashed out. “If you have all the answers, I don’t know why you’re questioning me.”

Becky froze.

Her heart going about a thousand beats per second, Lydia waited for her sister to turn and walk away. But to her surprise, her little sister stepped forward instead, tears in her eyes. “Lydia, what has made you start acting so different?”

“Nothing. And I’m not acting different.”

“Is it because of Perry dying?”

“I told you, I’m not—”

“Is it ’cause Mamm and Daed said you were adopted?”

Now her heart felt like it stopped. “You know?” Her voice fell to a whisper.

Slowly, Becky nodded. “Reuben was going to help me get a snack when we overheard you and Mamm and Daed talking in the kitchen.” Just as Lydia was going to berate her, her sister added, “We didn’t mean to eavesdrop, it just happened.”

“Did you two already tell Petey?”

Becky shook her head. “Reuben said we’d better not, ’cause even though Pete is eight, he can’t hold a secret for nothing.”

“That’s something, I suppose. Petey would go tattle.”

Looking deep in thought, Becky pursed her lips for a moment. Then she blurted, ”I truly am sorry for you.”

Her sister’s kindness caught her off guard and was a good reminder about the right way to act. She was doing no one any favors by holding her anger close to her heart. “It’s okay. I’m not happy about the news, but my being adopted isn’t your fault. I don’t want you to worry about it.”

“How can I not worry? You’re upset. And you’re my older sister, no matter who your
mamm
was.”

Lydia studied her for another minute, trying to determine if there was more to Becky’s words than she was letting on. How would she not see Lydia differently now?

“Things will get better. I just need some time. Mamm and Daed understand that.” After a moment she added, “If you could, I’d appreciate it if you could give me time, too.”

“Do you want to be English now?”

Lydia realized that her sister was no longer being catty . . . she was seeking to understand her. And so she did her best to respond in kind. “I don’t know.”

Her sister’s temper surfaced once again. “I think you’re just biding your time until you jump the fence and leave us all behind.”

She wanted to promise her sister that she’d never to do that. She wanted to promise Becky that she wasn’t thinking about leaving their community.

But she couldn’t. Not yet.