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  “The last I heard, that isn’t the case.”

  Beth wished she had some idea of how to make her dear friends’ lives easier, but she knew there was little she could say or do to make things better. Only their faith could help right now. “They’re just going to have to rely on prayer.”

  “You’re right.” Reaching into the tote bag, Lydia pulled out a plastic container of muffins. “I made you and your mother these. They’re morning-glory muffins.” Looking pleased, she added, “Have you had them before? They’re chock-full of carrots and pineapple, spices and nuts.”

  “They smell delicious.”

  “They are. Filling, too.” Looking toward the doorway that led to the rest of the house, she added, “I supposed you can serve them to your guest.”

  “I will put them to good use.” She was beyond nervous now. Chris needed her to keep his presence a secret, which meant Lydia needed to leave before he cried out in pain.

  Or anything else happened.

  She stood up. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to chat. Running a B-and-B is a busy job, you know.”

  Lydia’s brows rose but she said nothing. Instead she got up slowly. “Beth, if you start feeling overwhelmed, or have any trouble, don’t hesitate to ask for help. This is the slow time at my parents’ nursery.”

  “I won’t have any trouble. I’ll be just fine.”

  “Sheriff Kramer is doing extra patrols, too. If you get worried or scared, I bet he could stop by regularly.”

  That would be the absolute last thing she wanted to happen! “I won’t need the sheriff here, Lydia. There’s no need for him to trouble himself with me.”

  “I’m sure he’d be happy to check in on you. It’s a big house to be in all alone.”

  “I’m not alone, though. I have a guest.”

  “Who is a stranger,” Lydia pointed out.

  “I will be fine.” When Lydia stared at her with wide eyes, Beth tried to temper herself. “I mean, please don’t send Mose my way.”

  “Um, okay, then. Hey, Walker and I are going to spend Christmas Eve at my house with my family. We’d love for you and your mamm to join us. Mamm and I have been baking for days.”

  “Danke, I’ll talk to my mamm.” Of course, she knew there was no way she was going to leave Chris’s side until he left Crittenden County for good.

  Firmly, she walked Lydia out. “Thank you again for the muffins.”

  Lydia nodded but stared at her friend hard before turning to leave. “You’re welcome.”

  The moment she shut the door, Beth locked it, turned the dead bolt for good measure, then practically ran to the stairs.

  She jerked to a stop when she saw Chris standing in the upstairs hallway, his jeans riding low on his hips. A gun was in his hand and his expression looked murderous.

  “Who was here?” he rasped.

  She’d thought she’d seen every expression on his face, but she now realized she’d been wrong. Standing in front of her, he looked dangerous and fierce.

  He looked like no man she’d ever seen before—not even when he’d appeared in her dreams. “It was no one, Chris. No one you should worry about. Just a friend.”

  His hard expression didn’t ease. “Who was it? You said you wouldn’t have any visitors.”

  Her mouth went dry as she continued to stare at the gun. At his bare chest. Felt his hard gaze settle on her. And realized that there was something about him that she wasn’t ever going to be able to forget.

  It was starting out to be a very trying day, and it was barely 9:00 a.m.

  Chapter 5

  I never imagined this would be my life. It’s not that I thought it would be better . . . only that it would be a whole lot different.

  JACOB SCHROCK

  Jacob was not living the life he’d dreamed of as a child. When he was small, he’d planned to raise horses, perhaps even move to one of the fancy horse farms near Louisville or Lexington and be a trainer, groomer, or farrier.

  But little by little, his father had divested him of that dream. When Jacob was a boy, his daed had kept him close to his side at the store. Every day, his father would give him a lesson about running the place, and though Jacob had never been interested in being a shopkeeper, he’d slowly learned how to be a good one.

  With a mixture of folksy sayings and true warmth, Aaron Schrock had made each customer feel as if he or she had stumbled into a cozy treasure trove of unique goods and practical necessities, all wrapped in a tidy knot of friendly warmth.

  Jacob had often felt that way at home as well. His mother had been the practical enforcer, and although she’d kept her standards high and did her best to make sure Jacob met those expectations, she’d also been free with her hugs and jokes.

  He’d been happy.

  Looking back, Jacob realized he’d grown up in a cocoon of security. After he’d given up his dream of raising horses, he’d been secure in the knowledge that he would take over the store one day. Furthermore, all of his childhood memories seemed to be bunched together in a jumbled mass of happy times and laughter.

  He had been blessed, and he knew that.

  Now, however, he’d never felt more alone. With his father in prison and his mother off visiting their extended family in Holmes County, Jacob was left to bear all of the responsibility for the store. Though he’d spent much of his life preparing for it, the weight of the burden almost immobilized him.

  What if he couldn’t continue the store’s success? What if everyone in the area found him lacking, or if the legacy of all that had happened with Perry Borntrager was too much to accept? What would he do then? How would he take care of Deborah if the store went bankrupt?

  Here in the near-empty store, he wished he could find something to replace the confidence he used to have in spades.

  “Your problem, I think, is that there are no critters in here,” Sheriff Mose Kramer said as he wandered up to the counter with a plastic basket full of baking products.

  Jacob pulled the basket close and started punching in the prices for chocolate, sugar, and green and red candies on the ancient cash register. “My problem?”

  “Yep,” Mose drawled, eyeing the store with a critical eye. “I was wandering around here, wondering what felt different, when I realized that it was altogether too quiet. That’s when I realized that you don’t have any cats or dogs or hamsters in cages. You should get on that, Jacob.”

  “The critters were my father’s doing, not mine.”

  “Oh, I know that. Of course they were your father’s doing. He always had a soft heart for animals and a keen mind for business.”

  “That is true.”

  Mose flashed a smile. “Those animals sure kept things lively. They were a topic of conversation around town, too. Folks would sit at the Marion Cafe, or Mary King’s Restaurant or even at the gas station and talk about what confounded new animal Schrock had brought in.”

  The reminder of his father stung. “It’s eighteen dollars.” When the sheriff handed him a canvas bag, he began to put the items inside. “Looks like you’re doing some baking?”

  “I, uh, found an easy recipe for Christmas fudge. I thought I’d give it a try.”

  “Good luck with that.” It was far easier to concentrate on Mose in the kitchen instead of the emptiness in his heart. He felt like he was living a complete lie. This was the man who’d brought him in for questioning, then actually arrested his father, and here Jacob was talking with him about the atmosphere in his family’s store.

  Mose handed him a twenty-dollar bill. “So, don’t keep me waiting. What do you think about my idea? A few animals might liven things up, right?”

  “It’s a gut idea, but not one I’m ready to take on. Those animals were troublesome. And their antics created a lot of work. You know, it’s just me and Deborah here now,” he said as he passed back the change. “Everything is different now.”

  Mose ignored the two dollar bills and eyed Jacob intently instead. “It doesn’t have to be that w
ay.”

  “It does. I can’t afford any more employees right now.” In addition to sales being down, they had a pile of lawyers’ bills to pay. Every extra penny had to go to them.

  “You might be able to afford more if you did things a bit differently.”

  Jacob kept his mouth shut because he didn’t want to get into things that weren’t any of Mose’s business. “Thank you for coming in. I hope the fudge turns out.”

  But instead of taking his not-so-subtle hint, Mose looked pained. “Son, I’ve known you a long time.” He rested his hands on the other side of the counter. “Maybe we should sit down and chat for a bit. We could talk about how you are doing.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Married life agreeing with you?”

  “Of course. Deborah is great.”

  “That she is. And how is your mamm?”

  “I haven’t seen her in a few weeks,” he replied, keeping his face carefully blank. “She’s staying for a time with my aunt in Berlin.”

  “Ah. Yes, I remember hearing about that now. Berlin is far away.”

  “It is.”

  “Is she coming back for Christmas?”

  “Nee. She’s going to come back after the New Year. But on the way back, I’m sure she’ll stay in a motel near the prison and visit my father for a few days. She’s done that before.” He bit his lip. Would it ever get easier to admit that his father was in prison?

  Would it ever get easier to admit that now he and his mother didn’t have much of a relationship? She couldn’t quit being her husband’s greatest advocate.

  And he? Well, he couldn’t stop blaming his father for everything.

  Mose’s eyes narrowed as he nodded slowly. “Sorry, I know it’s a sore subject. Have you, by any chance, gone to visit your father yet?”

  “I have not.”

  “You might think on it. I’d even be happy to drive you out there, if you’d like. Dreams arise and problems occur, but family is always family.”

  But that was what he was struggling with. He didn’t want to think about his father in prison, and it hurt to think about how close they used to be.

  But how did a son admit that? So instead of confiding his troubles to the sheriff, he lashed out instead. “Sheriff, I don’t owe you any more explanations, do I? I thought I was done being questioned.”

  Mose stilled, then carefully cleared his expression of all traces of hurt. “Of course you don’t owe me a thing. But I’m more than just the sheriff, Jacob. I’m a friend—at least I thought I was.”

  Jacob felt terrible. This wasn’t how he wanted to be. A sense of foreboding filled him as he realized he was slowly losing the slight, tenuous hold he had on himself.

  One step at a time, a small but sure voice inside him whispered.

  “I’m sorry, Mose. I don’t seem to be myself lately.”

  Mose’s gaze softened. He looked like he had a lot to say, but instead he merely put the two dollars that had been lying on the counter back in his wallet.

  Just as Mose was reaching for his canvas tote, his cell phone rang. After looking at the screen, he took the call, his expression concerned.

  Jacob watched Mose’s face as he spoke to whoever was on the line in a series of short, one-word answers. He looked worried when he clicked off and stuffed the phone back in his jacket.

  “Everything okay, Mose?”

  “You know, I’m not sure. That was a buddy of mine from Paducah. He heard word that our town might have an unexpected visitor here.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing good, I reckon.”

  Unexpected? Again? Foreboding filled Jacob as he thought about once again living in uncertainty. “Is it someone dangerous?”

  Most stilled. “I don’t think so. But to be honest, I’m going to have to stew on this one for a bit.” He paused. “Sorry, don’t know why I even said a word about that call. But, Jacob, if you do hear of something unusual going on . . . or if you see someone in the store who seems like he shouldn’t be here . . . let me know, wouldja?”

  “Sure. I’ll for sure let you know if I see something.”

  After picking up the sheriff’s bags, Jacob walked around to the front of the counter. “Here you go, Mose. And, thanks for asking about my family. It means a lot to me, and I know both of my parents will be glad you were thinking of them.”

  “I care about you, Jacob. And believe it or not, I still care about Aaron. Your daed was my friend for many years.”

  “I still can’t believe he caused so much pain. I would have never guessed it.”

  “I’m not defending him, but I should warn ya that I’ve talked to many people who broke the law. It ain’t always a person’s intention to do something illegal. Sometimes people do things without thinking about the consequences.”

  Lowering his voice, he added, “I’ve seen the nicest men and women do some terrible things for the best reasons. You just never know what you are capable of until push comes to shove.”

  Jacob swallowed as his mouth turned dry. Before he learned to keep his temper under control, he’d said things he wished he could take back. But that was different from what his father had done.

  He needed to continue to remind himself of that.

  The sheriff’s expression turned sympathetic. “Chin up now, Jacob. You have a new marriage to celebrate, and your first Christmas together, to boot. That’s something not to take for granted.”

  “I don’t. Deborah means to the world to me.”

  Mose rapped his knuckles on the counter. “That’s good to hear. Well, in case we don’t see each other, Merry Christmas!”

  “And Merry Christmas to you,” Jacob murmured as the man left and the store fell empty again.

  As he gazed at the neat shelves, the clean counters, and the carefully swept floors, Jacob suddenly realized that it did feel different from the way it had when his father was there.

  He’d assumed the quiet was from the lack of customers. But maybe Mose had a point. Maybe the store was missing a bit of chaos that only a container of animals could bring.

  As he imagined the mess and the noise and the pandemonium even a hamster could bring to the store, he winced.

  He’d suddenly realized that the animals had been nothing compared to his father’s presence in both the store and his life.

  His father had been both a source of amusement and support. Folks in the area genuinely liked him, and his laughter could fill the emptiest room with happiness.

  Yes, the store did seem quieter without those animals.

  But it seemed completely empty without his father.

  And, to some extent, so did his life.

  Chapter 6

  Turkey, ham, Christmas trees, Bing Crosby, too many presents. That’s what Christmas used to mean to me.

  CHRISTOPHER HART

  As she gazed at her guest, Beth fought to keep her expression calm.

  He was glaring at her. Looking fierce and lethal. Scary.

  And afraid.

  “Chris, it’s still early. What are you doing out of bed?” Beth asked, inwardly wincing as she heard her voice. It sounded shrill and sharp.

  Chris didn’t answer. Instead, he continued to stand on the landing of the stairwell, the black gun still held firmly in his hand. His blue eyes were pale and cold. He looked like he was going into battle.

  How could she calm him down? Remind him that he wasn’t anywhere near danger? He was at the Yellow Bird Inn in the heart of Amish country.

  She climbed the steps slowly, each one making her feel as if she were edging closer to danger. “Chris, did ya hear me?” she asked in a conversational way. Just as if they were about to have a cup of tea. “You’re sick, you know. You should go back to sleep.”

  He didn’t move.

  As she got closer, she noticed that his skin was flushed, his eyes glassy. Sweat beaded his brow. It was obvious that he was burning up with fever.

  And still that gun hovered in his hand.
/>   As she stared at the gun, old doubts began to fester. Why hadn’t she ignored his wishes and called for an ambulance when he’d first arrived?

  She was a capable woman. She knew better than to leave so much up to chance.

  She cleared her throat and attempted to sound like one very put-upon babysitter. “Christopher Randall Hart, you need to stop pointing that gun at me. Someone could get hurt.”

  He blinked in surprise. Immediately, his hand lowered. Once the pistol was no longer staring at her she breathed a hearty sigh of relief.

  “That is much better,” she said briskly as she took another step closer to him. “Now it is time to get you back into bed.”

  “Not yet. I want to know who was here.” His voice was hoarse and scratchy sounding. Rough.

  “It was Lydia Plank. She’s just a friend. Do you remember me speaking of her?” Because he looked so on edge, she added, “Or, perhaps you heard her name from Frannie? We have been friends for a long time, you see.”

  He shook his head.

  She stepped closer, praying for him to keep that terrible-looking weapon pointed toward the floor. “There’s a story about Lydia, you know. See, she’s Amish but she fell in love with Walker Anderson, who is English. We were all friends growing up, but it wasn’t until Perry’s murder investigation that they fell in love,” she said easily.

  Pure confusion entered his eyes. “She came over to see you.”

  “Jah. She brought me muffins. It’s like I told ya, Chris. She is no one for you to worry about. And she’s gone now, so it’s just us. So, perhaps you wouldn’t mind putting that gun away?”

  Finally, he seemed to break out of his trance. Looking shamefaced, he fussed with his gun, then spoke. “Beth, I’m sorry. I’m on edge. And I’m so, so afraid that I’ve brought you trouble. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

  She walked to his side but hesitated before touching him. She told herself it was because she was worried about his gun, not about the fact that he was standing right in front of her, without a shirt on. “Is your gun safe now?”