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  Chris ate his down in five large bites while she took ladylike ones, hoping to make it last.

  As he watched her, a look of amusement lit his eyes. “I’ll bring you another slice, Beth.”

  “I couldn’t have seconds.”

  “Sure you could. No one would know.”

  “But still. One piece is enough I think.”

  When she finished and set her plate on the coffee table in front of them, she felt a little awkward. Here, she’d set them up in this cozy room, with a warm fire and the golden glow.

  But now it almost felt too private. Too close.

  He looked at her in concern, then pulled up the quilt behind him and shook it out. “Come here, Beth.”

  “What? Oh, I couldn’t . . .”

  “Come here and sit next to me.”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “I won’t try anything.” He held up a hand. “I promise.”

  The problem was that she wanted him to hold her. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to sit in the dim light and enjoy an evening with him, pretending he was her man. Her boyfriend.

  Pretending that they had a future. That he was her fiancé. Her husband.

  But if she gave in to those fantasies, she knew she’d feel wicked. Guilty, too.

  The silence stretched between them.

  “Beth, I know you don’t know what to make of us. So you don’t have to say a word. But I’m going to tell you something because you need to know it. I’ve liked you for a very long time. And all those nights that really weren’t very good? I would try to make them better by imagining that we were sitting somewhere like this. I know one day you’ll be sitting in your own hearth room on Christmas Eve. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be with someone special next year at this time.

  “But I know I won’t. You’re it. And even if we aren’t meant to be together, because I’ve done too much and you’ve done too little . . . let me sit here with you, would you?”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Probably because so much of what he was saying had been the way she’d felt, too.

  “That’s good. Because you don’t need to say a single thing. All you have to do is trust me. I won’t make some move on you. All I want to do is put my arm around you and hold you close.”

  She had a lump in her throat, which rendered her mute for what else she intended to say.

  And she was glad about that because, Lord help her, she wanted the same thing that he did.

  Which was why she sat on the couch, scooted close, and let him lay the quilt over the both of them.

  It was why she didn’t protest when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close. It was why, when she ended up resting her head on his shoulder, and she heard his steady heartbeat, she didn’t move away.

  Because sometimes it didn’t matter what a person’s head wanted. All that mattered was what was in her heart. Chris was warm and solid and smelled like chocolate cake.

  He was everything she remembered and so much more.

  Afraid to speak, afraid to ruin the moment, she braved her fears and cuddled closer, sighed when he brought his other arm around her and linked his hands.

  She felt her body conform to his as they shifted. And as she stared at the flames in the fire, she felt something that had been missing from her life for quite some time—something that everyone had thought she had but had been missing for almost forever.

  Peace.

  She felt loved and happy and content and peaceful.

  It was almost too good to be true. And almost too hard to believe.

  Chapter 15

  I’ve thought about selling Christmas decorations in the store, and I’ve thought about selling hamsters, too. But neither of those things felt right. I’m trying to find my own way, you see.

  JACOB SCHROCK

  Jacob had debated whether to let his mother know he was going to the prison to see his daed. In his heart, he knew she’d want to know that he was finally giving in and paying him a visit.

  She would be mighty glad about that.

  But he figured with that gladness would come a stern lecture about how he should have gone to see his father before now. And along with that lecture would come a gentle reminder about being the person she and his father had wanted him to be. A man who obeyed the tenets of their faith and practiced forgiveness above all other things.

  He was not ready to listen to those words.

  Deep inside, he still had mixed feelings about his father’s guilt and his hand in it. No number of motherly lectures was going to change his feelings.

  No, it was going to take time and a willingness to move forward.

  For Deborah, he was willing to do that.

  He hoped the visit would go well. But as he stood in front of the window, watching for Mose’s car to pull in the driveway, he wondered if he hadn’t gone crazy. He was nervous and scared.

  “He’s not late. Not yet,” Deborah said when she walked over to stand beside him.

  “I’m not worried about that. I know he’ll get here when he can.”

  “Aren’t you going to get your coat?”

  “Oh. Jah, sure.” He did as she suggested, his mind in a fog. After slipping on his coat and putting on his black felt hat, he noticed the scarf Deborah had knitted him for Christmas. It was black and plain. But the yarn was especially soft and thick. He knew he’d wear it often, especially when he elected to walk around town instead of going to the trouble of hooking up the buggy.

  He’d given her a vacation to Pinecraft. They’d never gone on any sort of vacation after their wedding, and now spent most days working in the store. He was determined to call in some favors from Walker and other folks who had worked in the store from time to time and have them watch it while they went away.

  Deborah had had tears in her eyes when he’d presented the gift to her. Her happiness had made him feel ten feet tall.

  Now, though, he realized he had nothing to give his father.

  By the time he reached Deborah’s side again, it was weighing heavy on his mind. “I don’t have a gift for my daed.”

  “Do you think he’ll expect one? I don’t even know if you can give inmates gifts.”

  “I didn’t think to ask.” Now he felt foolish. What had he been thinking? That the guards were going to suddenly let his father wear a wool scarf with his prison uniform?

  She patted his shoulder. “Here is Mose. I know it’s difficult, but I think you should try not to worry so much, Jacob. This visit seems like a good enough gift.”

  “Perhaps.” Privately, he wondered how they would be received. Maybe his daed would be upset that Jacob hadn’t visited before.

  “Okay, then.” She gave a little sigh, then grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. “Let’s go, husband.”

  To his surprise, he found himself smiling on his way out to Mose’s truck.

  “You brought your truck,” he said.

  “You didn’t think I’d make you travel in the back of my cruiser, did ya?”

  “To be honest, I was so grateful for your help, I would have ridden in the squad car happily.”

  “Well, no man needs to ride in the back more than once, I’m thinking.” Mose winked at Deborah. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Schrock.”

  As she usually did whenever someone called her by her married name, Deborah gave a little happy smile. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Sheriff Kramer.”

  After buckling up, Jacob said, “I sure hope we didn’t mess up your whole day.”

  “I didn’t have anything planned, if you want to know the truth. Now I do.” His smile was tight. Strained.

  Jacob felt sorry for the sheriff but refrained from saying anything more. No man should have to explain his family—or lack of one, he thought.

  But Deborah wasn’t of the same mind. “You don’t spend any time with your family?”

  “No.”

  “But they live nearby, don’t they?”

  “Yes. In Murray.” He shrugged. “Whe
n I decided to become a sheriff, it didn’t go over real well.”

  In spite of himself, Jacob said, “Did they shun you?”

  “No. Not shunned. But I’m not welcome. My parents—all my relatives, actually—would rather I didn’t take a job in law enforcement. They can’t overlook the gun, you know.”

  “But you’re such an important part of the community.”

  “Yes, but you know how it is. By and large the Amish don’t care to have much to do with the police. My family is no different.”

  “You need a special woman,” Deborah said quietly. “Everyone needs a partner in life.”

  Jacob couldn’t agree more, and knew Deborah was speaking from experience. For most of her life, she’d lived an almost solitary existence. Growing up, Perry had needed constant attention and guidance. It had seemed he’d yearned for it, though one would never know. Rarely had he ever shown any appreciation for his parents’ efforts to bend over backward to make him happy. Deborah had been expected to sit quietly in the background.

  Later, when Perry’s behavior had become more erratic and puzzling, eventually leading him into a world of drugs and damaging consequences, Deborah’s good qualities had gotten even further overlooked.

  And after his death, she’d been practically shunned, especially since she’d chosen to marry Jacob over her parents’ wishes.

  Jacob felt like he was finally able to give her the attention she deserved. And while he agreed with her comment, he wasn’t about to step into Mose’s personal life. But he did give in to impulse and gently squeeze her hand.

  Oblivious to the undercurrents between the two of them, Mose chuckled. “I agree that everyone needs a mate, but I don’t think my time for courting has come yet.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. One day it will be the right time for me. It just hasn’t happened yet.”

  “I hope it happens soon.”

  Mose chuckled. “Deborah, you sound just like Frannie. She’s always after me to start dating.” Turning serious, he said, “Anyway, love didn’t work out so good for me. I tried it once, and it ended badly.”

  “Don’t give up,” Deborah whispered.

  “I won’t. But I fear I’ll expire if I keep holding my breath for something good to happen. I seem to be out of luck in the romance department.” He shrugged. “But let’s not dwell on me any longer. I’m not sad about things, so you certainly shouldn’t be. I’ve had a long time to get used to the way things are. Some things can’t be changed, and it’s a waste of time and trouble wishing differently.”

  “You’re right about that, Mose,” Deborah said. “But still, I do feel for you.”

  “And I’m grateful for your concern.”

  Mose’s voice had turned uncomfortable, and Jacob knew it would be rude to continue to press him. Everyone had a right to privacy.

  Besides, Jacob had plenty to worry about.

  They’d just passed a bright green sign announcing that they were a mere twenty miles from the state prison. In no time, they’d be seeing his father.

  But he’d also be bringing his wife into a place neither of them had ever intended to see. A place filled with criminals and violence and the darkness of pain and regret.

  He knew she was worried about walking inside those doors.

  Almost as worried as he was about how he’d react when he finally came face-to-face with the most important man in his life.

  Chapter 16

  It is a wonderful-gut night. A holy night. Ain’t so?

  MOSE KRAMER

  It was snowing again and Chris felt at peace.

  “When was the last time you felt that way, Hart?” Chris mumbled to himself as he turned away from the frosty window he’d been staring out of for the last few minutes.

  He didn’t even need a second to know the answer. It felt like it had been forever since he’d felt so calm inside.

  Usually, he woke up in a daze, blinking furiously as he forced himself to remember who he was currently pretending to be and where he was. He’d learned the hard way that forgetting his cover for even a second was hazardous to his health. The slightest hesitation or mistake meant that months of hard work could vanish in an instant.

  Now, though, he was merely himself. That was all. He should have felt curiously bare. Stripped and vulnerable. Instead, he felt free.

  With one ear to the door, he changed out of the old pair of sweats he’d been sleeping in and put on a clean pair of jeans, white T-shirt, and wrinkled chambray shirt from the bag Ryan had brought. He’d lived in clothes like this when he was in high school and college. The fit was familiar. Comfortable.

  Only now did he wonder where his boss had gotten the clothes. Had he asked Taylor for help? Had he simply guessed his sizes? Was there some secret file that the powers-that-be kept on each employee? He wouldn’t put it past anyone at the DEA.

  Which brought, of course, everything full circle. Tomorrow someone from the agency, most likely Taylor, would arrive. They’d pick Chris up and whisk him away into oblivion.

  He’d be back on the job with a new identity. It was sure to be someone grungy or depraved or at the very least someone down on his luck and desperate.

  And then, little by little, he’d have to force himself to become that person. He’d slowly change his speech patterns, change his dialect. He would once again do things he abhorred around people he disdained.

  And inside? He’d block the pain of losing himself with the knowledge that he was doing something that needed to be done. For the greater good.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t think that would let him sleep at night. Not anymore.

  “Chris?”

  Trotting to his door, he pulled it open, then blinked at the picture Beth presented.

  She was bright with happiness. “It’s Christmas,” she said with a smile. “Merry Christmas!”

  “Merry Christmas to you, too.” He couldn’t help smiling back. With effort, he willed himself to keep both of his hands at his sides. If he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself reaching for her and pulling her into a morning hug. A sixth sense told him that she would welcome it, too.

  Then they’d have even more to regret when he left tomorrow.

  He forced himself to keep his manner a little distant. “How are you this morning?”

  Her bright smile dimmed. “Oh. I’m gut.” Little by little, her stance mirrored his. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to try to cook some breakfast with me? Or would you rather I let you know when it’s ready?”

  “I’ll come to the kitchen with you. Last night was fun. And you’re in luck, Beth. I can actually cook eggs and bacon.”

  Her smile eased. “I can, too.” She turned and started walking down the hall, down the stairs.

  He followed on her heels, realizing about halfway down the stairs that she had on a different dress. This one was blue with a white apron. She looked as pretty as a picture. Wholesome and innocent.

  Which, of course, was what she was.

  When they got to the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee, then followed her directives. Soon he was in charge of the bacon, Beth the eggs and toast.

  There was little of the teasing, romantic banter that had lingered between them the night before. He knew it was his doing. She’d come to his door in high spirits.

  After eating in near silence, then washing the dishes side by side, Chris knew he had to say something. It wasn’t fair to keep her on pins and needles. Not when she’d done so many things for him.

  Not when she’d given up Christmas to watch over him.

  When the counters were clean and too much coffee had been drunk, he knew there was little left to do but be honest.

  “Beth, let’s light a fire and sit in the hearth room again.”

  “That’s not a gut idea.”

  “I know. But let’s do it anyway. I want to talk to you.”

  Her eyes looked a little wild. “We can talk here.”

&n
bsp; “Not like I want to.” Lifting up a corner of his lips, he reached for her hand. “Please?”

  She pulled her hand from his. “I don’t understand what game you are playing with me.”

  He knew she didn’t. But what she likely didn’t understand was that he wasn’t playing a game. He was just as confused about what he wanted from her . . . and what he didn’t want. “Please, let’s go sit down.”

  To his surprise, the hearth room already had a fire lit. It was cozy and warm and comforting there. After she sat down on one of the couches, he sat across from her on one of the wooden chairs in the corner.

  Today, she sat very still and stiff. “What did you want to say?”

  “That I am sorry for ruining your Christmas.”

  “We’ve already gone through this.” Scorn filled her gaze. “Why can’t you simply be honest?”

  “You don’t want my honesty.”

  “I do. I certainly do. I want to know what you think about me.”

  “I think you are the finest woman I’ve ever met.” Her eyes widened. “I care for you, Beth, but after tomorrow, it won’t matter.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “You’re wrong, Chris Ellis—ah, Chris Hart—whatever your name really is.”

  “I told you the truth about my name.”

  “Yes, you finally did.” To his surprise, she jumped to her feet, looking as irritated and out of patience as any of the women he’d met on the streets. The ones who felt like their chances were few and their futures were already decided.

  A little shocked, he leaned back and let her speak.

  “You may know a lot about fighting crime and apprehending criminals, and drugs, Chris, but you know nothing about feelings.”

  “I agree with you.”

  “You just hush for a minute.”

  Slightly stung, he sat back. “Okay . . .”

  “Chris, when you left me the first time, you fairly broke my heart.” She held up a hand when he started to speak. “It doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean to do that. It happened.” She sighed. “For the last few months, all I’ve done is mope around and wish that things were different. I ached for you to return so I could say everything I wanted to. But I never thought I’d see you again.”