His Promise Read online

  “Beth is happy now. Grace said she’s interested in another man.”

  “Ah. Well, it has been several years.”

  “It’s been three.”

  “Three years is a long time.”

  “It’s a really long time when you’re in your twenties. We’re not going to get back together.”

  His father chuckled. “I weren’t talking about Beth and you know it.”

  “Even if there was something between Grace and me, we couldn’t pursue it. It would cause too much strain between her and her sister.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe if her sister was happy with someone else, she would understand.”

  “I don’t know about that. Then there’s her parents.” Looking at his father, he said, “Remember how upset they were with me for breaking her heart?”

  “I remember some angry words being said.”

  Mr. and Mrs. King had said some harsh words that weren’t true, but he hadn’t known how to defend himself. “Her parents would never allow me to call on Grace.”

  “Like I said, Grace ain’t a young girl anymore. She has a mind of her own. So it seems to me it’s not her parents’ or her sister’s opinions that you should be worried about.”

  “You’ve got a good point, Daed. If I now know one thing about Grace King, it’s that she’s a woman who knows her own mind. And she’s gotten pretty good at speaking it, too.”

  Chapter 10

  “Snooze, I think you have more clothes than I do,” Grace declared as she sat on the laundry room floor. The dog sat next to her and wagged his tail as she sorted through his many sweaters, jackets, and booties.

  Holding up two tiny light-blue booties, each one with Velcro around the ankles and slip-resistant pads on the bottom, she giggled. “Do you actually wear such things?”

  As if he could understand every word she said, Snooze raised his ears and tilted his head. He was looking so affronted, Grace imagined he was wondering why she thought light-blue booties were unnecessary for a fancy dog like himself.

  Giggling again, she put the booties down and picked up a cozy-looking red fleece dog sweater. “Since we’re only going for a short walk to get the mail, I don’t think booties are needed. But it is awfully cold out.” Holding up the sweater, she said, “How about this red sweater? What do you think?”

  To her surprise, Snooze hopped right on her lap and easily moved his front paws into each tiny sleeve of the sweater. After she fastened the three snaps on his chest, he lifted his chin and barked.

  Obviously, he liked his sweater very much!

  “Jah, I agree. You look mighty handsome, sir,” she said as she scratched his neck. “Let’s go for a little walk, jah?”

  Leaping off her lap, Snooze barked again and wagged his tail some more. He was also gazing at her with something close to happiness for the very first time.

  Grace felt like she’d finally learned an important lesson. The way to one wiener dog’s heart wasn’t companionship and cuddles. It was sweaters and promised walks.

  Feeling like they’d finally made some progress, she hooked on his black leash and led the dog to her snow boots and cloak. She put on both, and then finally wrapped a dark-green wool muffler around her kapp and black bonnet.

  “We might look like a pair of overstuffed teddy bears, but we’ll be warm enough, I think. Let’s go.”

  After she opened the door, Snooze led the way down the front steps that she’d cleared of snow early that morning. At the end of their walk, she planned to pick up the mail.

  The Lees had a long driveway that led out to the main road. It was at least a half-mile long, and it had a slight curve as it ventured down the hill toward the highway. Because of that, no one who drove by would see the house.

  Grace imagined that the Lees had planned it that way. They’d even designed for the driveway to end in an arch at the front of the house. One could drive a buggy or a vehicle almost to the front door.

  Dotted along both sides of the expanse were pear trees. When Grace visited in September, their leaves had just begun to turn golden yellow. Now the trees were bare, well, except for the thousands of white twinkling lights that had been strung on them.

  The lights were on an automatic timer and when they’d first turned on, Grace gasped. It was such a magical sight.

  She soon discovered that the long walk to get the mail with Snooze took easily double the time that it would’ve taken on her own. Snooze was a tiny dachshund with short legs. Then, too, he was a careful stepper, taking care not to walk on patches of ice.

  As they continued on and the house faded into the distance, a flicker of worry settled in her insides. Maybe his little booties weren’t so unnecessary after all.

  “For a dog who ran off on his own and slept in straw, you seem mighty persnickety today.”

  Snooze didn’t acknowledge her. He simply kept meandering on the drive, stopping often to paw in the snow.

  When they finally reached the mailbox, she was glad she’d thought ahead and brought along the canvas tote. The Lees had received at least five catalogs and three times that many Christmas cards. As she carefully placed them all in her tote, she felt a pang of sadness, imagining all the cards at her own house.

  Her mother often waited to open the cards until after supper. Then, by candlelight, each of the girls would take a turn opening the red and green envelopes and reading the personal messages carefully written inside.

  When all of the day’s cards had been opened and shared, they’d help their mother hang them up. By Christmas Eve, there would be cards strung everywhere, each one a visible reminder of their many relatives and friends.

  Grace was now embarrassed that she’d always thought such a display was a bit too much.

  Now she realized it wasn’t too much at all.

  They were how their family decorated for Christmas. And they weren’t even just decorations, either. They were symbols of all of their many friends and family and how they all cared about each other.

  Actually, all of it—the baking, the candles, her mother’s excitement—it was all special. Why had it taken an absence from her house to enable her to realize how much all of those traditions meant to her?

  When her family got back, Grace was going to tell her mother how much she liked and appreciated her efforts. Christmas really wasn’t the same without those familiar touches.

  For some reason, the cards, or lack of them, made her think of Miss Dorma again, and gave her a perfect idea. She could make some fudge and a homemade card and bring them over to her. Maybe she could even think of some other people she could do that for.

  Doing something nice like that would certainly be worth the cost of hiring the driver again.

  Snooze, who’d been standing by her side and looking rather disgruntled, barked.

  “I know. It’s chilly out here. Don’t worry, your quilt will be over you in no time.” After walking him into the field for a while, where he pawed and sniffed and eventually did his business, they returned to the drive and headed back to the house.

  “Ready to go back and make fudge, Snooze?”

  She continued her one-sided conversation the entire way. She and the dog were making strides, if only small ones. Maybe by the end of her time with him he would realize that she could be a new friend.

  She kind of doubted it, though.

  Finally, after being gone almost an hour, they reached the front steps leading up to the door. “Gut job, Snooze,” she said with a smile. “You got to wear your sweater, we had a nice walk, and even got the—”

  Her voice caught in her throat as she noticed that the front door was ajar.

  There were also new footprints in the snow, ones she knew without a doubt she hadn’t made.

  This time, Grace didn’t hesitate or try to pretend that things were all right. She dropped the canvas tote on the walk, picked up a startled Snooze, and started running to John Michael’s house.

  Terrible, awful ideas ran through her head as she ran throu
gh the snowy fields and around the woods. Images about what could’ve happened if she’d been inside.

  What could have happened if she’d been asleep?

  Or sitting in the kitchen.

  Or standing in the shower.

  As each thought entered her head, she shivered violently. Fear building upon each fear until she was certain that she was never going to be able to relax again.

  Her heart was pounding and she was gasping for breath by the time she came upon the edge of the Millers’ property and passed the pile of straw where Snooze had been sleeping.

  She kept running.

  Just as she paused to scan the area, hoping to find either John Michael or one of his parents, the back door opened and he stepped out.

  “Grace? Grace, what’s wrong?” he asked as he ran toward her. He was in shirtsleeves, wool slacks, and suspenders. His feet were stuffed into brown work boots. It must have been hastily done because the laces were still loose.

  He didn’t have on a coat. Not even a hat on his head.

  But he was there. Feeling incredibly relieved, she launched herself at him, with Snooze still trapped in her arms. “John Michael,” she gasped, “I think someone is in the Lees’ haus.”

  “Easy now,” he murmured as his strong arms went around her. “My goodness. Your heart is beating like you ran a marathon.”

  “I feel like I have.”

  When she shivered again, he pulled her closer.

  Only when Snooze grunted did he release her.

  “Sorry, pup,” Grace said as she carefully set him back down on the ground. When he whined and pulled from her grasp, she released his leash.

  Realizing that wasn’t safe, she turned to claim him again. But John Michael claimed her hand instead. “Don’t worry about Snooze. He’ll be all right.”

  Sure enough, the dog only walked toward a comfy chair on the covered porch. Right away, he hopped up on the cushion and curled into a snug ball, his leash hanging down.

  “I guess he is all right,” she said, feeling like there was a frog in her throat.

  And just like that, all the worry and fear that had consumed her during her run to his house consumed her again. Unable to help herself, she started trembling.

  “Oh, Grace.” John Michael reached for her, again enfolding her safely into his arms. Though she knew she shouldn’t, she leaned against him, taking comfort in his arms.

  He ran one hand down the length of her back. “Are you all right? Did someone attack you at the house? Are you hurt?”

  “Nee. Just scared.” Taking a deep breath, she pulled away.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I took Snooze for a walk to get the mail,” she replied, looking into his eyes. “It took a long time. Maybe an hour? When I got back to the house, I noticed fresh footprints.” She swallowed, attempting to regain her composure. “That’s when I noticed that the door was ajar.”

  His expression hardened. “What did you do then?”

  “I dropped the mail, picked up Snooze, and ran here as fast as I could.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “I wasn’t even thinking,” she admitted. “All I wanted to do was run. I was so scared.” No, she was so very terrified.

  Looking more disturbed by the second, John Michael leaned in closer as if he was trying to transfer some of his heat to her. “You’re trembling. You must be cold. Let’s get you and Snooze inside.”

  After taking a step, she paused in alarm. “Wait, John Michael. I can’t go inside right now. I need to take care of the house.”

  “We will.”

  “But someone could be stealing all of Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s things.” Just imagining what they would say about that, she grabbed at his arm. “I have to do something.”

  “You are. You came here to safety and you found me.”

  “But—”

  “We’ll discuss it after we get you out of the cold,” he said in a new tone that brooked no argument. “Come, now.” He wrapped a steady arm around her shoulders and ushered her inside, calling Snooze to follow.

  The moment he opened the door and they stepped across the threshold, she felt as if she’d entered another world. The older farmhouse was decorated rather sparsely, but everything was beautiful and finely made. There were cherry cabinets built into the living room wall. A gorgeous dining room table stood proudly in the middle of the dining room. It had a gold-and-silver woven table runner that ran along the center.

  The walls were painted a creamy buttermilk. A lovely musical clock hung on the wall. So did an antique quilt with a dark ruby-red border.

  But more than anything, she was taken in by the delicious scent that seemed to envelope every room. A combination of gingerbread, vanilla, and evergreen. Everything that reminded her of Christmas and comfort.

  It felt familiar and comforting. And inviting.

  “Grace?” John’s voice was hesitant behind her.

  Belatedly, she realized she’d just been standing like a statue in the middle of the entryway. She hadn’t even edged out from under his arm. Embarrassed, she stepped away. Tried to pretend that she wasn’t feeling awkward. “Sorry. I, um, well, your home is mighty lovely.”

  He looked at her in confusion. “But you’ve been here before, yes? I mean, you’ve been here when we hosted church.”

  “I’ve been to your barn for church. Never inside.” While it was true that a lot of women did venture into each other’s homes, she hadn’t felt comfortable doing that. Too much hurt from the past had lingered, and simply being around him had been hard.

  “Ah. Yes. I suppose not.” As if he was mentally shaking himself, he reached out to take her cloak.

  She unfastened the button and handed it to him. After she set her black bonnet and scarf on the dining room table, she knelt down to see to Snooze.

  She unhooked his leash and rubbed his head. He put up with the attention but pulled away when she attempted to remove his sweater. “I guess he wants to keep it on.”

  “No harm in that, Grace.”

  Getting back to her feet, she faced John again. “You’re right. I guess that is true.”

  “Let’s go into the kitchen. We’ll talk there.”

  When she walked in, she noticed that there were three loaves of apple-cinnamon bread cooling on the counter. They looked and smelled heavenly. “Your mamm has been busy.”

  “Jah. She has.” He smiled slightly. “My father often says that he thinks he can gain five pounds just from the scents of my mother’s baking.”

  “Our haus is the same way.”

  He grinned. “Yes, it is. Your mother is a mighty fine cook. And a busy one!”

  For the first time, the reminder that he used to spend time at her house didn’t bring forth a flash of pain. “You’re right. Um, actually, until I got to the Lees’, I was always of the mind that my mother did too much. She is always making something or baking something or has some unfinished project lying on the table.”

  “You do come from a large family, Grace. There are a lot of girls to look after.”

  “There are. But it’s just my mamm’s way, too. She doesn’t like to sit still. And, I’m afraid, she’s rather messy. My father sometimes picks up more than she does.”

  “I always thought it was sort of cute.”

  “Cute?”

  “Well, you never had to worry about putting something out of place,” he related. “There’s a lot of comfort in that.”

  “I always took it for granted,” Grace mused. “Now, though? . . . I would give a lot to be surrounded by her love.”

  “Oh, Grace.” He guided her to a chair and then, to her surprise, crouched on his heels in front of her. “We need to call the sheriff.”

  Then he turned, got up, grabbed ahold of the phone that was hanging on the wall, and dialed.

  She listened as he spoke and shared her news about the footprints and the house.

  “Hold on,” he said after a minute. Looking in her direction
, he asked, “Do you want to meet them at the house or visit with them after they check things out?”

  “Can I talk to them here?”

  “Jah. I think that would be best.” He relayed her wishes into the receiver. Then, after affirming his address, hung up. “I think they’ll be here within the hour.”

  Her nerves crept up on her again. “What do we do in the meantime?”

  “I’ll get Snooze a little bowl of milk and we’ll have tea, eat warm apple bread, and wait.”

  She clenched her hands in a tight knot in her lap and wondered what she and John Michael were going to discover at the house . . . and what could possibly happen next.

  Chapter 11

  John Michael couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt more useless. As he took a seat next to Grace while Sheriff Brewer pulled out a notebook, he felt like his hands were tied. Grace was frightened and nervous, but there was little he could do to help her. He couldn’t make the upcoming conversation easier or offer any comfort. This was her story and he wasn’t her man.

  Besides, it had been obvious from the moment Sheriff Brewer arrived that he wanted to hear what happened from Grace and from her alone.

  So, while Snooze was sleeping on a quilt next to the fireplace, John sat and listened to Grace tell her story to the sheriff. He sat a respectful ten inches away while her voice quavered and her skin turned pale again.

  And made himself stay silent when it was obvious that she was feeling flustered and tongue-tied.

  He’d done all that because he felt he had no choice. He wasn’t anything to Grace. Not really a friend, not a confidant, not even a neighbor. He was simply a person who was nearby and was willing to help her.

  That wasn’t surprising.

  What was surprising was how much he wished she felt differently.

  After she told her story and answered a few more questions about the number of footprints and what direction they’d taken, she leaned forward. “Sheriff, please tell me what you discovered when you went to the house. Did you find the intruder?”

  Sheriff Brewer darted a glance at John Michael before answering. “I’m sorry, Grace. We did not.”