Suspendered Sentence (An Amish Mystery) (12 page)

“In the snow?”

“Yup.”

“But why? It’s cold out there.”

“True. But I’m pretty certain this”—his hands disappeared from her sight only to reappear holding an old-fashioned wooden sled—“would mark up your aunt’s floor if we tried to ride it down the stairs.”

“You want to go sled riding?” she gasped.

“With you, yes.” He nudged his chin in the direction of the coat closet and flashed another of his dimple-laden smiles. “So come on, put on some warm socks and boots and come play. This snow will be gone by midweek.”

There was no disputing the surge of excitement she felt at the image of spending a few hours outside with Jakob. The fact that he came up with the idea made it even better. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be right out.”

*   *   *

S
he climbed onto the wooden sled and nestled her back into Jakob’s chest, the long snow-covered hill in front of them making her giggle in anticipation.

“You ready?” He tucked his arms around her waist and his legs around hers and inched the sled forward. “We’re gonna go quick.”

“Let’s go!”

With a quick lurch of their bodies, they sped down the hill, the winter air lapping at their cheeks. The more she squealed with delight, the more he laughed and the more he leaned forward, increasing their speed until they toppled off into a heap at the bottom.

“That was so so
so
much fun,” she said between breaths. “I can’t remember the last time I was on a sled.”

He sat up and extended his hand in order to help her do the same. “Me, neither. But I can say, with absolute certainty, that it’s been entirely too long.”

She squeezed his hand but remained sprawled out in the snow, its wet chill beginning to seep through her jeans to her skin. “I think it’s been even longer since I made a snow angel.” Stretching her arms and legs wide, she began to scissor them back and forth, the answering spray of snow chilling her even more.

“You should see your face right now,” he murmured. “You’re glowing.”

“What I want to see is my angel.” Bringing her legs and arms to a stop, she sat up and reached for Jakob’s hand. When she was safely on her feet, she turned to examine her handiwork. “Hmmm . . . Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

Her breath hitched in surprise as he draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her against his side, his warm breath atop her head paling against the feel of his lips on her hair. “Thank you for coming out with me today. I needed this time with you.”

Snaking her arm around his lower back, she matched his squeeze with one of her own, the happiness she felt at that moment nearly overwhelming. “Thank you for asking. I can’t think of the last time I felt this—this alive.”

He turned to face her, his gloved hands rising to her wet and cold cheeks. “I know you’ve been hurt in the past, Claire. I know it’s going to take you a while to trust your heart again. But when you do, I’ll be here . . . waiting. And praying.”

“Praying?” she parroted. “For what?”

“That when you
are
finally ready to trust your heart, you’ll trust it with me.”

She blinked back the tears that threatened to turn into mini icicles against her skin, and buried her face in his chest, the answering feel of his strong embrace warming her from the outside in. “I’m getting there, Jakob. Faster than you realize.”

For several minutes, they simply stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, surrounded by the beauty of the day. When they were ready, they stepped apart.

“Well, should we give it another whirl?” he asked as he retrieved the sled from the ground and tucked it under his left arm. “Maybe see if we can go even faster this time?”

“Absolutely.”

Chapter 11

S
he placed the serving tray on the coffee table and handed the first of two mugs to the wide-eyed man seated on the sofa beside her.

“Too much whipped cream?” she asked quietly before retrieving the second mug and pulling it close. “Aunt Diane is always scolding me for how much I put on her hot chocolate, too. But it’s a habit, I guess.”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s the whole thing—the whipped cream, the peppermint stick, the chocolate chips on top.” Jakob cocked his head and smiled. “I guess I’m used to making it for myself. Only when I do it, I rip open the powder, dump it in the mug, and add water. That’s it. This feels . . . I don’t know . . . sweet, I guess. Like you.”

Not quite sure how to respond, she took a sip instead, the steaming-hot liquid a perfect tonic for the chill that had come to roost the moment they walked into the inn and removed their soaking-wet outer layers. “I wish I’d had my camera out there. I’d have loved to get a picture of you next to your snowman.”

“I was thinking the same thing when you struck that pose next to yours.” He captured a line of runaway cream on the side of his mug with his finger and inserted it into his mouth. “But I don’t think that’s an image I’ll be forgetting anytime soon, so I’m good.”

She took another, longer sip and then bent her legs at the knees and pulled her calves up onto the couch. “I love this room in the evening. It’s almost magical.”

He grinned as he took in the room, too. “I feel it, too. Thanks for inviting me back here after our snow day. Sorry if I made you late for dinner with the guests.”

“You didn’t. Diane gave me the night off. If we get hungry later, I’m pretty sure I can rustle up some really good leftovers from whatever was on the menu.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He raised his mug to her and then took his first long sip. “For now, though, this is enough.”

She looked down at her own drink and then back up at him. “I talked to Miriam yesterday after work. Or, rather, I tried to talk to Miriam after work.”

“Stoltzfus?”

“Yes. Ben was heading out there to bring a few more supplies to Jeremiah and I tagged along.” Tightening her hands around her mug, she revisited the previous day in her thoughts, Ben’s anguish hard to forget. “I feel sorry for him. He’s really struggling with this new information about Elizabeth.”

At Jakob’s silence, she shivered and held her mug closer. “I imagine you’re struggling with many of the same things on account of how you felt about her, too.” She hated the pensive quality to her words but it was too late to correct.

“My feelings for Elizabeth were a long time ago. A lifetime, actually. Back then I was a different person. My world was confined to a few streets inside Heavenly. Elizabeth was someone I grew up with, someone who went from a little girl to a young woman at about the same time I was changing, too. I was drawn to her quiet nature. At times, I have to wonder if one of the reasons I was drawn to her was because Benjamin was, too, and I was determined to have someone see me before him.”

Her heart ached for the pain in Jakob’s voice and the reference to the yardstick his own father had used to measure the two boys—a tool that consistently had Jakob coming up short. She cast about for something to say but he continued before she settled on the right words.

“It’s not that way with you. I felt something the first moment I laid eyes on you in the lobby of the police department. You were so beautiful, standing there with that bag of goodies you brought by to welcome me to town. Or
back
to town, as Diane surely told you at the time.” He leaned forward, set his mug on the tray, and sat back, his gaze mingling with hers. “But since then, I’ve often wondered if you have feelings for Ben. Feelings that are preventing you from really seeing me the way I wish you would.”

Nibbling her lower lip, she took a moment to compose her thoughts and words. When she was ready, she addressed the elephant that had frequented their space for far too long. “If I said I wasn’t drawn to Ben those first few months I owned the shop, I’d be lying. But I’ve come to realize that what drew me to him was his gentle nature. From a distance, he seems so stoic, so rigid, but he’s not. There’s a depth of thought and feeling there that spoke to my curiosity. And, in doing so, he became my friend. But we’re from two different worlds and it’s meant to be that way. I like the window Ben and Eli and Esther give me into their world, but I love my world for me—the world I have here in Heavenly with Diane, and the shop, and . . .
you
.”

Pulling her left hand from atop her right on the mug, she reached out, gently touched the side of the detective’s cheek, and smiled. “I see you, Jakob. I really do. And trust me, I like what I see.”

He captured her hand with his and moved it to his lips. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”

“Probably as glad as I am to finally say it out loud to someone other than my pillow.”

“Your pillow?” he said from behind her hand before lowering it to his lap and holding it tight. “And? What did it say?”

“To stop being a chicken and admit my feelings.” She closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the feel of his thumb as it caressed the back side of her hand. “I guess I feel more vulnerable saying it out loud. Like I’m putting my heart out there to be broken even worse than before.”

“Even worse?”

She met his questioning gaze head-on. “With my ex-husband, I think I was trying so hard to be what
he
wanted me to be that I was able to protect the real me on some level. But with you, it’s all me—the me that likes taking walks and riding on sleds and building snowmen. I’m showing you who I really am and it scares me, a little.”

“It shouldn’t. Because I adore everything about you.” He cleared his throat, released his hold on her hand, and reached for his mug. “Even the excessive whipped cream.”

It felt good to laugh, to relieve some of the intensity in the room with a little lighthearted fun. “That’s good, considering there’s a lot more where that came from.”

He swirled the remaining liquid around in his mug and then took a long sip. When he was done, he swung his focus toward the fire crackling in the hearth. “Miriam say anything of interest?”

“No. We spoke for a moment or two and when the conversation turned to the discovery of Sadie’s body, she ended it by pretending her son called for her.”

“Pretending?”

“Uh-huh.” She plucked the peppermint stick from her drink and sucked off the last of the whipped cream, her thoughts traveling back to Miriam’s kitchen. “She just wanted me out of her house.”

“I remember when Miriam went on Rumspringa. I’d see her sneaking out of her window sometimes at night. Headed to the covered bridge on Route 50, no doubt.”

“Why would she go there?”

“That’s where the local English kids congregated to drink and smoke when I was growing up. And, from time to time, they were joined by a few Amish kids on Rumspringa.”

“And Miriam was one of them?”

He nodded. “I never could understand why Elizabeth and Sadie followed her around the way they did.”

She considered everything she was hearing and posed the first question that came to mind. “Do you think they drank and smoked, too?”

“I imagine they tried it, if nothing else. It’s one of the things I often blamed Elizabeth’s mood swings on when she made the decision to pursue baptism. That she regretted some of the experimentation she may have done. Now, I know it was something more.”

“You’ll figure it out, Jakob. I know you will.”

He studied her closely. “If she murdered Sadie, it’s going to shake Ben to the core. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“I don’t look forward to doing that, I really don’t.”

She rested her hand atop his and squeezed it gently. “I know you don’t. And neither do I. Ben is my friend.”

He looked up at the ceiling and released a frustrated breath. “I’m quite sure Miriam isn’t going to be all too excited about talking to me, either.”

“Any chance Leroy Beiler will be any easier to talk to?”

“I guess it depends on what he’s known all these years and what he’s kept secret from members of his own community—including his father-in-law, Bishop Hershberger.”

She thought back to her conversation with her aunt the previous morning about the third and final person mentioned in Elizabeth’s journal. “I can only imagine how unexcited—”

Teeing his hands in the air, he lowered his gaze back to hers. “You know what? Another workday will come soon enough for both of us. How about we shelve this conversation until then and just enjoy the rest of the evening talking about happy stuff.”

She heard her stomach rumble and let it guide her words. “Happy stuff? You mean like cookies to go with a refill of our drinks?”

“Yeah. Sure. That works.” He placed his mug onto the tray and laughed. “Unless you’ve got something even happier to share.”

“Wait!” She dropped her legs to the ground and clapped her hands. “I’ve got the happiest news ever, actually.”

His left eyebrow arched. “You already shared that.”

She drew back, confused. “I did?”

“Yeah, earlier . . . when you told me you have feelings for me, too. It doesn’t get much happier than that.”

Pleased, she smiled and allowed herself a moment to catch her breath. When she was ready, she continued, the excitement and awe she felt over Esther’s news infusing its way into her voice. “How about finding out you’re going to have a great-niece or -nephew in about six months?”