Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One (4 page)

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, glad for a little more time to collect his thoughts.

And to throw out the detective’s card. The detective might want more information, but Walker knew one thing for certain—if he never talked to the man again . . . why, it would still be too soon.

Chapter 4

“Sure, I’d thought Perry had jumped the fence. Where else would I have thought he’d gone?”

J
ACOB
S
CHROCK

O
ne of the best things about her parents, Lydia decided, was that they always gave her time to relax after work. When she walked into the house after spending most of the day on her feet in a warm greenhouse, her mother would greet her. And here she was now, with a plate of chocolate chip cookies, a tall glass of lemonade, and her book.

“Go rest for a while, dear. I heard you had a busy day at the greenhouse.”

“I sure did,” she said around her first bite of cookie. Looking at the kitchen, with the smooth wood plank floors and the butcher-block table that had once been her grandmother’s, Lydia tried to concentrate on happier things instead of the detective’s visit. “Everyone was coming in for seedlings. Daed and I must have sold forty perennials before noon.”

Her mother picked up a bowl of sugar snap peas and started shelling them. “That’s
gut
news,
jah
? We worked hard to get those seeds to do their jobs. I’m thankful to them.”

Lydia couldn’t resist smiling at her mother’s soft look of pleasure. “Oh, Mamm. You always do talk about the plants as if they have feelings.”

“Oh, I know they don’t have feelings,” her mother retorted quickly as she shelled another peapod. “But I know they are workin’ hard for us. I want to give them their due. It’s only right,
jah
?”

“Of course. I just wish I’d inherited your gift for coaxing the best out of plants. I’m afraid my talents only revolve around selling them.”

Her mother stilled, a funny look on her face. “What ‘gift’ are you talking about, Lydia?”

Lydia down the half-eaten cookie. “You know what I mean. Everyone is supposed to inherit traits from their parents. For some reason, your green thumb skipped me and jumped right to the other kids.” When her mother looked at her strangely, Lydia began to grow uncomfortable. “I’m just teasing ya, Mamm.”

“My talking to plants is just a silly habit. It’s certainly nothing to wish for.”

She didn’t understand why her mother was so touchy about the subject. “Oh, I know,” she said airily. “It was just an observation.”

“You’d do better to observe other things, child,” she said as she carried the bowl to the sink. “I think you must be
shlayfadich
. Go outside and rest.”

Lydia wasn’t the least bit sleepy, but she didn’t argue. “All right. I’m on my way.” Pausing at the door, she added, “I’ll promise to do my best to listen to the plants while I’m sitting out here. Maybe even report back to you what I hear.”

“Oh, you. You are a terrible daughter,” her mother said, her cheeks turning rosy, the hint of a smile on her face. “I should know better than to talk to you about the plants.”

Lydia was still chuckling as she left her mother at the stove, then walked out of the kitchen.

“Enjoy yourself,
maidle,
” her mother said as Lydia opened the screen door and walked outside.

Because the ground was so wet and muddy, she carefully took the steppingstones toward the back garden. They were spaced a little far apart for her stride, so she stepped slowly. The slower pace let her breathe deep and find peace in the glory that surrounded her.

Why, in another month, the garden would smell like heaven and be full of vivid colors. At the moment, however, it was merely a sunny spot with the barest rosebuds on the bushes.

Lydia sat down on the damp bench and sipped her lemonade. Little by little, she pushed aside the conversation with her mother and let a true sense of peace filter through her. As much as she liked to tease her mother about talking to the plants, Lydia knew she felt the same way about nature. Nothing made Lydia happier than to sit outside and smell the fresh, clean air and feel the warm sun caress her skin.

Cookies and drink forgotten, she rested her neck against the back of the bench and closed her eyes.

But instead of finding relief, memories of Perry filtered through.

Perry walking by her side. Sipping lemonade with her in the kitchen.

Then later, Perry laughing at her.

Just weeks before they’d broken up, he’d teased her about all sorts of things. Including her somewhat restrained and quiet ways. Though it used to be something he’d liked about her, all of a sudden it was yet another part of her that he’d found fault with.

“Lydia, why do you have to be so serious all the time? I tell you what, sometimes being with you is like being with my maiden aunt,” he’d said one evening at the end of a singing. “You need to learn to cut loose and have a good time.”

“Like you?” she’d snapped. His cynical looks, and the way he’d find the one thing she wasn’t good at and point it out—it made her feel on edge and exposed.

“Of course like me,” he’d answered, his whole posture becoming more argumentative. Aggressive. “Come on, Lydia,” he’d goaded as they’d walked farther and farther into the cornstalks and away from everyone else’s curious stares. “You need to loosen up or you’re going lose me to somebody else.”

She’d opened her mouth and drew in a breath. She’d fully intended to tell him exactly what she’d thought about his attitude toward her. But before she could get a word out, he’d leaned close and kissed her. Hard.

She’d lifted her hands to his shoulders to steady herself before pushing him away. But instead of feeling her push, he’d taken it as an invitation to pull her closer.

And though she’d never intended to kiss him. Or to embrace him. Though she’d intended to chide him for being so forward . . . she’d kissed him back.

And then had felt so ashamed of her behavior that she couldn’t break things off. She tried to convince herself that she still loved him. After all, only a wanton woman would behave in that manner with a man she had begun to distrust.

And surely that couldn’t be her. That was not how her mother had raised her to be.

Perry, being Perry, had recognized her weakness and had laughed. “I told you you were gonna have to change. And now you are! You learn quickly,” he said with a grin. “Why, the Lydia I used to know would have never done something like that.”

Because his words were true, she’d kept silent. But was she really changing, or was Perry bringing out a dark side of her that had always been hidden inside . . . waiting and lurking for the right time to come to surface?

Had she become the type of woman to kiss men out in the open? Had she become the type of person who took more risks than she should?

“Lydia? Hey, Lydia, are you asleep?”

With a jerk, she popped her head up and opened her eyes. Stared at the English boy standing in front of her. “Walker?”

It was hard to see his eyes under the brim of his baseball cap, but the lift of his lips relayed that she’d made the correct guess. “Yeah. It’s kind of a surprise I’m here, huh?”

Lydia blinked hard, trying to come to terms that Walker was standing in her rose garden, looking for all the world like he was nervous to be speaking with her. “I’m surprised. I mean, it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other,” she finally said. “Not since I saw you at Schrock’s in December . . .” Her voice drifted off before she allowed herself to finish the thought. No way did she want to think about that evening again.

Filling the silence, he said, “I’m back at work there.”

“I heard. Why?” she blurted. She would have thought Walker would get a job someplace else. Someplace without all the memories.

Looking uncomfortable, he shrugged. “Once Perry was gone, it didn’t seem like such a bad place. Plus, they were hiring. I just had to promise Mr. Schrock that I wouldn’t take off again before giving notice.”

“Ah.”

It was awkward, looking up at him. When she started to stand up, he stepped forward. “Hey, I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes. Your sister Becky said you were out here and that you could probably talk. That is, if you have time.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “Do you have time?”

“I have time, sure.” It wasn’t like she could say she didn’t. After all, only a lazy girl with time on her hands would pass the afternoon dozing in a garden.

“Thanks.”

His voice was deep and a little hoarse sounding. She wondered if the tone was new, or if he was feeling just as awkward as she.

“Perhaps you’d like to sit? I think there’s room for two on this bench. It would seem kind of odd for us to talk this way, with me down here and you up there.” She attempted to smile, though her stomach was turning into knots.

He would have stopped by for one reason, only: to talk about Perry.

But still he hesitated.

She didn’t blame him. There wasn’t much room for two, not really. But even if their legs brushed against each other, it would be less disturbing than if he remained standing in front of her, looming over her like an overgrown bush.

“Come sit down,
Englischer,
” she said, putting in the
Englischer
title to make him grin.

It worked. “
Englischer,
huh?” he asked, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “And here I thought you were the type of girl who treated everyone so politely.”

“I am being polite. Mighty polite. After all, an
Englischer
is what you are.”

“And here I thought I was so much more than that,” he murmured.

As soon as she scooted over, he sat down next to her. His presence sent little bursts of tension through her spine. Up close, Walker was even more handsome. He was wearing faded jeans, scuffed cowboy boots, and a snug-fitting T-shirt. She remembered someone saying that he’d been the star pitcher for the high school baseball team.

And now that the hint of tension was gone, she wanted to avoid the reason for his visit for as long as possible. Struggling to remember much about him, she tilted her head to one side. “It’s been a while since we saw each other. Are you still taking college courses?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean, I’m at the community college over in Paducah. I thought I’d go a couple of years there before transferring to somewhere bigger. It’s easier to pay for.” He shifted the cap. Now he stared at her directly. His eyes, so brown, the color of melted chocolate, met her gaze, making her blush.

“Ah.” Of course, his plans were foreign to her. No Amish boy she knew had plans to go to college.

“And you? What are you doing now?”

With dismay, Lydia realized that in a lot of ways nothing had changed. “Nothing new. I’m still working at our family’s greenhouse. I just sat down after working all day.”

“And here you are, still outside? Around roses, no less.”

His voice didn’t sound condescending. No, it sounded a little amused. Maybe more than a little amused. “I guess I can’t stay away from plants,” she quipped. As soon as she heard her words, she ached to yank them back. It probably wasn’t possible to speak more childishly!

But instead of making a face, Walker merely nodded. “It’s good you like plants. I remember Perry talking about your family owning this big greenhouse. It’s a popular one, isn’t it?” Before she could answer, he continued. “One day, maybe you could show me around. I mean, it looks like a real nice place.”

“I’m surprised Perry told you anything about the greenhouse. He didn’t care for it.”

“Well, of course he didn’t. I mean, it was Perry, right? He didn’t like much.”

That was so true. While they’d been courting, he’d become harder and harder to read . . . and harder and harder to please. She’d thought he’d only been that way with her.

Perhaps not.

And just like that, her anxiety rose. She really didn’t want to have to talk about Perry with anyone else. He was dead. What could she do?

Dead. Not passed away. Not lifted into heaven. Dead.

It sounded so harsh. Disrespectful.

Though her blood felt like it was turning cold, she shrugged. No way did she want Walker to guess how affected she was by Perry’s death. His murder was shocking. Never had anyone been killed in their community. The violence stained them all, changing what they knew into something dirty and foreign.

But so were her feelings about him. She should be only mourning his loss, not thinking about how he’d made her feel the last time she saw him. She shook her head, refusing to allow herself to go there.

Walker cleared his throat. “I came over here, thinking we should talk about Perry. You know, see what each other remembers about him.”

“I don’t see why we need to share stories.”

“You know, the sheriff asked some city detective to help him investigate. I think maybe they’re thinking someone who knew Perry killed him. Someone like . . . us.”

She’d gotten that feeling as well. The detective had raised all sorts of suspicions in her head and made her feel uneasy. “I know about Mr. Reynolds. He came over and asked me questions. When I told him I knew nothing, he left. So now I doubt he will contact me again.”

“Oh, no, Lydia. He didn’t leave. He’s still here, and he’s still asking a lot of questions. After he talked to you, he went to the store and asked me about a hundred questions about Perry. I didn’t think he would ever leave . . .”

“And did you have much to tell him?”

For the first time, he looked disturbed. “I don’t know. I answered him as best I could. I didn’t really have a choice. He’s with the police, you know?” After glancing toward the kitchen door, he lowered his voice. “The detective wanted to know about the people Perry started hanging around. He kept asking me about what I knew about Perry’s private life. About the things Perry didn’t want anyone to know.”

“What did you tell him?” she asked, flushing as they both realized she hadn’t asked what he knew.

What he’d told and what he knew were two very different things.

“I said I didn’t know much,” he said after a moment. “And that’s true. I don’t know much.”

“Did he believe you?”

“Honestly? I doubt it.” His eyes darted away, as if he was reluctant to meet her gaze. When he faced her again, he asked the inevitable. “You know, Detective Reynolds asked about you, too, Lydia. I think he’s starting to get the idea that there was a whole lot more to Perry than most people realized. And a heck of a lot more than we want to admit.”