Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One (6 page)

Chapter 6

“I fished next to Perry once for three hours. When he caught the biggest bass of the day, he grinned, admired that fish, then threw it back. And forbid any of us to tell his parents. Don’t know why.”

J
ACOB
S
CHROCK

G
randma Francis smelled like sugar cookies. Abby was pretty sure she always had. She couldn’t remember a time when her grandmother hadn’t been surrounded by the scent of wholesome goodness. Even as a child, Abby recalled toddling into her grandmother’s kitchen, looking for both a cookie and a warm hug.

Yep, she had always equated her grandmother with everything good and trustworthy on the earth.

“Abby! Walker!” Grandma Francis exclaimed the moment they opened up the truck doors. “How
gut
it is to see you!” Smiling happily, she trotted down the narrow dirt driveway toward them like she was greeting long lost relatives. “What brings you two here this evening?”

When Walker merely raised an eyebrow and glanced her way, Abby felt nerves overtake her. Obviously her brother was going to let her do all the talking. That was the right thing to do; after all, the reason for the visit had been hers. However, it felt strange to be taking charge. Usually she was more than content to let him do the talking. And he was usually happy to do it.

As the seconds passed, Grandma Francis’s smile of pleasure was eclipsed by a frown of worry. “Oh, no. Is someone sick? Did something happen to your
daed
?”

“Oh, no,
Mommi,
” she said, using the Pennsylvania Dutch word for Grandma. “Everyone’s fine.”

“Then why are you standing there like a lost sheep and acting twice as quiet?”

As their grandmother continued to look at her patiently, Abby cleared her throat. “I wanted to see you and Grandpa. Walker didn’t mind driving me. Is that okay? I mean, I know you didn’t ask me over.”

“Of course, child. If you want to visit, you are always welcome.” Crossing arms over her comfortable girth, she winked her brother’s way. “You too, Walker. Though you are standing there looking like a tree taking roots, you’re always welcome here.”

He laughed. “
Danke.
Sorry for the tree impersonation. Guess I’m just tired.”

“You don’t need to be anything but how you are, Walker,” Grandma Francis said sweetly, starting to usher them inside, her gray dress brushing against her ankles..

Though Walker looked at ease, Abby knew she had more to ask. “Um,
Mommi
, I was also hoping that maybe I could spend the night, too? Would you mind terribly if I slept over and then Mom or someone could take me home tomorrow?”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Her voice slowed as she looked over Abby with a steady gaze. “Is anything wrong?”

“No. I, um, just wanted to get away for a little while.”

After a pause, Grandma Francis nodded. “If you are seeking to get away, I think you picked a perfect place to get to. Now, where is your bag?”

“In the back of Walker’s truck. I could go get it.”

“I’ll help Walker get the bag, Abby,” Grandpa James said as he stepped out of the shadows. “I’m not so old that I can’t do that. But you have to give me a hug first.”

She stepped into his embrace. While her grandma always smelled like cookies, the scent of leather and horses always clung to her grandfather’s skin. She inhaled deeper and felt the muscles in her shoulders relax. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I know,” he said simply. “But we’re together now,
jah
?”

“Jah.”
She nodded when they parted.

He turned to her brother. “Now, Walker, how about you show me where your
shveshtah
’s suitcase is?”

“Sure,
Dawdi
,” Walker replied and walked with his grandfather to his truck.

Grandma Francis led Abby toward the house and curved a soft hand around her arm. “Now, how about I show you where you can sleep?”

“All right.” As they walked, Abby noticed that Walker and her grandfather’s voices had lowered. Their tones sounded hushed and private-like, speaking about things they didn’t want her to hear.

Three cement steps brought them up to the front door. When her Grandma opened it, Abby walked into the dim entryway, smelling the familiar scents of vanilla and lemon oil and embers. Immediately, a sense of calm engulfed her. “Your house always smells the same, Mommi.”

“Well, I should hope so. My James and I have lived here for years.”

Abby chuckled. “No, I mean it always smells like you’ve just been baking something and just tamped down a fire in the fireplace.”

“Most likely that is because that is what has usually happened! It is a rare day that I don’t bake something new, and with this damp March weather, I find my bones yearning for the heat of a fireplace.”

Abby bent down and pulled off her flats, preferring to feel the wood floor under her bare feet. “Maybe I could bake something with you tomorrow? It’s been a long time since I’ve made cookies with you.”

Grandma Francis paused. “You’re not going to be anxious to head home?”

“I was hoping to stay here until Friday afternoon. Or Saturday. If you don’t mind?”

Resting a hand on her shoulder, her grandmother shook her head. “I don’t mind . . . but I sure would like to know what provoked this impromptu visit.”

“I just wanted to see you both.”

“And I just happen to like peaches in the summer, but it don’t mean I go gallivanting around orchards in March. What’s going on?” Her brown eyes narrowed through her glasses. “Are you still having nightmares about finding Perry?”

She was, but she hated to talk about them. She far preferred to ignore the dreams that visited her every night. They seemed to be as inevitable as being talked about at school.

“The dreams aren’t too bad,” she lied as they walked upstairs.

“Something is, though, yes?”

Abby felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment.

Her grandmother paused in front of the first closed door on the left. “Abby, you are my granddaughter and are welcome to stay here for as long as you like. I am also happy to bake with you, too. But I would rather have your honesty. Please tell me what’s on your mind. And I want to hear everything, too. Not just the parts you think are good for my
ohr,
” she said, pointing to her ear.

Feeling caught, Abby hedged. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s all right. I’ve lived long enough to understand complicated stories.”

Abby stared at her sharply. Was Grandma Francis teasing her?

Her grandmother didn’t budge from her post in front of the paneled oak door. It seemed as if she wasn’t going to move until Abby explained everything.

But she had gone to her grandparents’ house to escape from everything, not to make sense of her feelings. “I’m not sure you’d understand.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve had thorny things happen to me,” she said gently. “I wasn’t always old, you know.”

“You’re not old.”

“I’m far older than you! Now are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t want to talk about finding Perry.” She was so tired of talking about that day. So tired of revisiting the memories.

“If you’re not upset about that, suppose you tell me what has gotten you so spun in circles.”

Across from the landing was a window looking out onto the driveway. Directly below, she could see her brother leaning up against his truck, arms folded across his chest like he always did, laughing. He looked tanned and healthy, happy and handsome—he looked confident and sure of himself.

And completely the opposite of Abby. As she watched her brother talk, Abby felt tears prick her eyes. They were only three years apart in age, but had always been so far in attitude and demeanor. “I’m not anything like Walker,” she blurted.

“I would hope not. One Walker is enough for this family.”

Instead of smiling at the joke, she felt even worse. “No, Mommi. He was popular at school.
Really
popular.” She sputtered, suddenly wondering if such things even mattered if you were Amish. “Do you know what that means?”

“Popular? Oh, yes. I’ve heard that term a time or two over the years.”

Abby flushed as she realized she was sounding condescending. “Did you ever care about things like popularity?”

“Did I ever?” she murmured with a faint smile. “Me? Not so much. For others though, I think it mattered more.” She opened the door to the bedroom and waved Abby forward. “This is your room. Come sit down on the bed with me and we’ll talk more,
jah
?”

Abby sat down on the beautiful white quilt. It was covered with tiny white stitches in the shape of flowers.

Taking care to keep her feet off the quilt, she perched on the edge. “Why didn’t it matter to you?”

“I think because I was happy with myself. I was lucky, I think, Abby. I was one of those few people born knowing what I wanted in life. I grew up next to your grandfather, so I knew I wanted to always be with him one day. And I always wanted to be like my mother, fussing with a houseful of
kinner
.”

“I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up. Sometimes I don’t even know who I want to be.”

“Well, of course you don’t! You’re too young to know such things.”

“I’m eighteen.”

“Eighteen ain’t all that old, Abby. I promise that, though you love to analyze things, there is no hurry. Give yourself some time to simply enjoy each day.”

“That’s not easy to do.”

“It’s not easy because you’ve had a difficult time of it lately. But, I promise, there’s a reason for everything. I suspect that the Lord probably wants you to rest for a spell.”

“If that’s what He wants, I’m not so sure I want to follow the Lord’s advice.” She felt so haunted by the memory of discovering a dead body and so alienated by everyone knowing, all she wanted was a chance to start over. The idea of having to wait longer made her stomach clench in knots.

She had to do something soon. Thinking of her father, and the way he talked about wanting to be different than the way his parents wanted him to be, she asked, “Mommi, did it bother you when Dad didn’t want to be Amish?”

“Yes.”

“Were you mad at him?”

Slowly, she shook her head. “
Nee.
I wasn’t mad, I don’t think. I felt more sad than anything, to be sure. I knew if Tim wasn’t Amish that we wouldn’t see as much of each other.”

“Did Grandpa James feel the same way?”

“He did, to be sure.” With a soft smile, she added, “It’s hard to let your children grow up. But that’s why we have the Lord, I think. We need to trust in Him to help us make decisions, and for Him to help our children, too. When your father told us he was going to be English, we prayed and prayed. Then your father admitted that he’d been praying about it, too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Perhaps he would tell you about it now, if you asked?”

Abby shrugged, not sure how to approach her father with those kinds of questions.

Her grandmother smiled softly. “After a bit, your grandfather and I decided we couldn’t change his heart. And if he had been praying, and if he truly felt like the Lord understood his reasons, well, that had to be enough for us.”

Her grandmother’s words were so simple and heartfelt, and made so much sense, too. “You really do want me to take time and pray about what I want, don’t you?”

“For me, prayer is the only way to make decisions. The Lord is just waiting to guide us—but if He is missing in your life, it makes all those big decisions harder.” Clasping her hands in front of her, she smiled. “Of course, everything with your father happened a long time ago. Care to tell me why you are thinking about it now?”

“I guess I was just wishing I was closer to you and Grandpa James,” she hedged.

“Abby, you are my
kinskind,
my grandchild. No matter if I’m Amish and you are not,
my
world is yours, too,
jah
? We can be as close to each other as we want to be.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Ach! I know it.”

Abby laughed. Her grandmother made it sound so easy, but it wasn’t. Finding a place to be comfortable and happy was hard. Harder than she’d ever imagined.

“Now tell me where you want to be more popular.”

“At school,” she blurted. “I don’t fit in.”

“Fitting in isn’t everything, child. In God’s eyes we are all perfect. Besides, one day, before you know it, you’ll wonder how you ever thought you didn’t fit in.”

Abby doubted that. “Mommi, in my high school, I stick out like a sore thumb. And now everyone talks about Perry Borntrager, and how I’m the one who found him.”

“Finding a body like that would shake anyone up.”

“I was with some girls and we were smoking.” She looked at Grandma Francis. “Did you hear about that from Mom and Dad?”

“I did.”

Abby waited to hear the lecture about smoking, but none came. Instead, her grandmother just continued to sit on the bed and waited with a kind, patient expression.

Which was all the encouragement she needed. She took a breath and blurted the rest of her story as quickly as possible. “Now those girls don’t want to talk to me, and the other kids think I’m weird because I found a body but don’t want to talk about it.” She took a breath. “And Mom and Dad keep asking me why I was smoking with them in the first place.”

“And you said?”

“I said, I don’t know.” She paused. “That’s not really much of an answer. Is it?”

“I think it sounds like a fine answer. Everyone sometimes does things for no special reason.”

“You think?”

“I know. We’re all human,
jah
? Now, I suppose we’d best get back down with the men before they come up here wondering what we are doing with ourselves.”

As her grandmother stood up with a sigh, she added, “Don’t forget about how God works with us, Abby. He has the answers. We, on the other hand, merely try to figure things out. Remember the saying? . . .
I know not what the future holds, but I know Who holds the future.”

Abby hadn’t heard that saying, but she thought it made sense. “If that’s how God wants things, he must be real happy with me right now. I don’t know have any idea what’s going to happen with my future.”