The Survivor (8 page)

Chapter Ten

“T
hese are movies that have been turned in,” Jayne Donovan told Jenna. “All you have to do is check to make sure the movie is in the case, put them back in the plastic security holders, and then put them on the cart alphabetically.” She paused. “Am I going too quickly for you?”

“I understood,” Jenna said. She’d graduated at the top of her class from the Amish school. She’d learned how to study hard and how to learn things that gave her trouble. And though it was prideful, she’d been very pleased to make straight A’s year after year.

Used to be, most everyone had looked at her with respect. And though it had been prideful, Jenna had accepted their admiration. She’d worked hard and had wanted to be someone the others looked upon with at least a little bit of envy.

And in return, she’d done her best to include others and help them, too. For most of her life it had been like that, anyway. Being the oldest girl in the family meant she’d needed to not only watch over her siblings but to also be a role model. In school, she’d merely accepted that role. Later, she’d even come to take it for granted. Years living like that made one accept things, for better or worse.

Now she saw it for what it had been—vanity and pride. And, she was realizing with some dismay, vanity and pride didn’t help a person so much when she was all alone.

Or when she was starting over with her life.

As her boss left the back room, Jenna reflected again on how different things were now. Whereas her sisters used to look to her for guidance, now they were forbidden to speak with her.

And where once everyone used to want to be her, now no one in her community did. Taking a seat, she pulled out the stack of DVDs and began sorting them as she had been directed to.

First were several Disney movies.
101 Dalmations
, and
Aristocats
. Others were shows she’d never heard of, some series from the TV.

One by one, she checked to make sure the movie matched the case.

On the other side of the wall, she heard Ella Weaver’s kind, bright voice, as well as lots of children’s cheery laughter. Usually she would have wanted to help the children make crafts, but today she was glad to be designated to the back room.

There was plenty to do. She wasn’t ready to see anyone.

And most of all, she didn’t want to see him.
Him.

The man who’d first turned her head with a kind smile, the one who’d insisted she spend more time with him than was wise. The man who’d offered her promises she was now certain he’d never intended to keep.

The man who still lived in Jacob’s Crossing. Still worked at the market. She, on the other hand, had been forced to live a new life almost entirely alone. She was working for an
Englischer,
being pushed into doing something she never would have dared. In a few months, she’d be looking after a babe, too.

Indeed, that man had ruined her life.

So why were the sweet memories of her time with him so hard to push away? Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on bitterness and anger, not on how good it had felt to be held in his arms. She’d focus on how they would never suit, not on how good it had felt to simply be Jenna with him. Not the oldest. Not the example. Not anything but herself.

But her mind flickered with images of him smiling at her, listening to her . . . looking so happy and content with her—

She opened her eyes, and forced herself not to dwell on him.

No matter what, she couldn’t see him again, because one thing was very certain, at least to her. Though everyone thought she was a terrible person, lying about her relationship with Graham, becoming pregnant out of wedlock . . .

Now living with a widow and working in a library . . .

The truth, she knew, would have been even harder for everyone to know.

The truth would not set her free; it would only make things worse. And if things could be worse than this, she didn’t want any part of that at all.

“Jenna? Can you come out here, please?”

“Of course.” When she walked out into the main area, she was startled to see Ms. Donovan standing with two little girls.

“These girls need help finding information about airplanes, Jenna. Would you mind helping them look in the children’s section for books about airplanes?”

“Not at all.” She smiled at the girls, then felt her heart sink when she realized she knew one of them.

“You’re Jenna!” Elizabeth Henderson said.

“I am.” Trying to smile, Jenna played the game. “And you are Elizabeth, Chris’s sister.”

“Jenna and Chris were boyfriend and girlfriend,” Elizabeth said to her friend. “But they’re not anymore.”

Jenna was shocked. She hadn’t known that anyone knew how close they’d been. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “How did you know about Chris and me? Did you see us together?”

“No. He told us all about you.” With a mischievous grin, Elizabeth explained, “He said you were Amish.”

“I am.”

“He said your family is real strict.”

Well, there was another truth she couldn’t dispute. “That is true as well.” To her surprise, talking about Chris made her sad, and for once it had nothing to do with her pregnancy. Instead, she realized she simply missed him. She missed his company and the easy way about him. “Well, let me take you two over to the reference section and I’ll see if I can help you find lots of books on planes.”

The little girls followed her and took the books she offered. But just as Jenna was about to leave them at a small circular table, Elizabeth said, “Chris is going to be so happy I saw you here.”

Pure panic overwhelmed her. Leaning closer, Jenna said, “You don’t have to tell him, do you? I mean he probably won’t care too much.”

“He’ll care,” Elizabeth said with confidence. “I bet he’ll come visit you once he knows I saw you here.”

And that, Jenna realized, was what she was afraid of. “Elizabeth, let’s keep our meeting a secret, okay?”

“Why?”

“So I can surprise your brother.” She attempted to smile. “Wouldn’t that be something?” she asked, her voice all conspiratorial. “Wouldn’t it be something if Chris found out that you knew something he didn’t?”

Even as she asked, Jenna felt her stomach knot. Here she was, lying again.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “He would be very surprised about that.”

“And you’d be so happy you kept a secret, right?”

Reluctantly, Elizabeth nodded.

With a sigh, Jenna relaxed. “Let’s keep our meeting a secret for just a little bit longer. Will you try?”

Eyes wide, Elizabeth finally nodded. “I’ll try,” she blurted before she turned and ran out the door.

As Jenna watched the little girl leave, she remembered a past conversation with Chris. He’d taken her to a park, a children’s playground. No
kinner
had been around, just the two of them. He’d taken her hand and had linked his fingers through hers as they’d sat side by side on a pair of swings. His hand had been warm, but his gaze had been warmer when he’d looked her way.

“Jenna, take me to your house. Introduce me to your family.”

She’d been shocked. “
Nee.
I mean, no.”

“Why?”

“It wouldn’t work out.”

A line had formed between his brows then. Obviously, his feelings had been hurt, thinking that she didn’t think he was good enough for her family.

Of course, the opposite had been true. She’d known if he’d seen her parents and witnessed their disapproving expressions, he would never come around her again.

And she hadn’t been ready to give their relationship up.

“Why wouldn’t it work out?” he had finally asked. “What could go wrong?”

“Everything,” she said, speaking the truth for once. If she brought him to her house, one thing was terribly certain. No matter how kind he was, or how hopeful she would have been for a future with Chris, everything would go wrong.

As Jenna watched the little girls fade from view, she realized that at least this once . . . she’d been exactly right.

D
owntown Indianapolis looked exactly the same, John realized with a burst of amusement as he drove through the crowded one-way streets in his truck.

He’d been back only twenty-four hours. First, he went to his old condo and talked with the property manager. After being assured that everything with the sale was going smoothly, he spent a good three hours at his storage unit, packing up the rest of his belongings.

After he packed, he visited his old place of employment and shared a burger with a couple of the guys. But beyond hearing about their families and meeting a few of the new guys, there wasn’t much to say.

He left the building feeling curiously empty.

Now he was going to have lunch at Rocco’s, the Italian restaurant where he’d found employment when he’d first come to the city. Giorgio and Maria Rocco still owned the place, and they still served plenty of food, too.

“John!” Giorgio said, ignoring his outstretched hand and engulfing him in a warm hug. “I was wondering if you were ever going to come our way again.” He patted him with as much force as ever. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

The reminder shamed John. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rocco. I should’ve kept in better touch.”

“No way am I ‘Mr. Rocco’ now.” The big man peeked up at him over his half-moon glasses. “No matter how many years go by, I’m still Giorgio to you, yes?”

“Yes,” John found himself answering automatically. Looking at the man’s stretched-too-tight white button-down and his black apron and slacks, he found himself smiling. Giorgio Rocco was all Italian, and his grandiose bearing and easy smile was as great to see as ever.

Giorgio beamed. “I’m so glad to see you. We’ll have to make plans for the holidays.”

Growing more uncomfortable, John said, “Actually, I only stopped by to tell you and Mrs. Rocco that I’m leaving Indy for good.” He took a deep breath. “I decided to go back home.”

“Ah. So you finally decided to be with your family.” The restaurant owner smiled. “I wondered when you were going to do that.”

The comment took him by surprise. “You really thought I’d return one day?”

“Of course. You love your family too much to leave them forever.” He tapped a table. “Sit down and let me bring you some baked ziti. Or, are you too busy to eat?”

His mouth watered. “I’m never that busy.”

Giorgio laughed. “Oh, John. You never could pass up a good meal.”

John chuckled to himself as he soaked in the familiar sights and smells of the restaurant. As he looked around, he noticed the same wallpaper, now patched in places. And the same clock over the doorway. And the same mouth-watering aroma that wafted through the kitchen doors.

Twenty years ago, when he’d first come in looking for a job, he’d been so hungry it had taken all he’d had not to eat everything in sight. But Mr. Rocco had read his mind—or had just known what boys his age were like. For his first break, he’d sat John down at the butcher block table in the corner of the enormous kitchen and had placed an overflowing plate of baked ziti and garlic bread in front of him. “Eat,” he’d said simply, then left before John could even think about asking a question or refusing the free meal.

“Here you go, son,” Giorgio said as he now placed another heaping plate of pasta in front of him. “Eat.”

John’s fork was in his hand before he thought to wait to see if Giorgio was going to join him.

“I’m not eating just yet,” the elderly man said. “I prefer to sit here and watch you for a bit.”

The first bite was delicious, filled with the fresh flavors of stewed tomatoes, liberal amounts of garlic, and lots of mozzarella. “I don’t know how you do it,” he said when his plate was half empty. “I’ve watched you make this dish a hundred times, but I’ve never been able to duplicate it.”

“Of course you can’t. You’re not Italian. It needs to be in your blood. You’re Amish.”

“No, I
grew up
Amish.”

“Your past is still there.” He tapped his heart. “Inside you. Yes?”

Giorgio was right. It was becoming apparent that his religion and his roots were as much a part of him as those same things were to the man in front of him. “Yes.”

Shaking his head sadly, Mr. Rocco said, “That Angela never understood that. She always hoped to make you different.”

“I tried to change. And I did change. Some,” John said, remembering their first few months of married life. He’d been so enthralled by her, he had attempted to change himself completely, just to keep her happy.

Of course, he’d learned soon enough that he was never going to change enough for her.

And then, when he found her with another man he realized the simple truth. Angela had wanted a different man, not a different John.

“How is she?” he asked.