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  Frannie, in an obvious flight of fancy, had hung a piece of green garland over the sink and tied bright red ribbons on the ends, and it sent a faint scent of pine into the kitchen. The touch of Christmas in the warm kitchen was very like Frannie.

  When the whistle of the kettle blew, Beth got to her feet and made some orange-cinnamon tea, then sat back down and watched it steep.

  And realized that tomorrow was Christmas Eve. She had nothing prepared for the meal and she had no gifts to wrap or to look forward to. Furthermore, she’d sent her mother away to be with her sisters. All because Beth had chosen to remain by a dangerous man’s side. A man whom she’d never see again after a few days’ time.

  The day was sure to be a bittersweet one.

  And then she looked at the phone and realized that there was one thing she could do.

  It would likely win her no favors with Chris. He might even be very upset with her. But she knew that if she tried hard enough, she could figure out how to give him a special gift on Christmas Day.

  That is, if she was daring enough to do it.

  Leaving her mug, she picked up Frannie’s cell phone and dialed information. And when the operator answered, Beth made her decision. “I am wondering if you have the number for the Hart family of Lexington, Kentucky,” she said. “Hart is spelled h-a-r-t. Like the deer, you know.”

  “One moment.”

  And then, she was being connected. There was no turning back.

  “Jacob, we are going to be so busy tomorrow,” Deborah said as they put away the delivery of bread that had just arrived.

  He paused his careful stacking of rolls. “Only in the evening, right?”

  Though he wasn’t all that excited about it, he had told her that he’d be willing to share Christmas Eve dinner with her parents. Things between them were still strained, and he imagined they always would be.

  But if they were willing to move forward, he certainly could, too. He’d do anything for Deborah, but he didn’t want to be there all day!

  As she wiped down a tabletop, Deborah murmured, “Don’t forget, we also said we’d visit Walker and Lydia in the morning.”

  He looked at her curiously. Something was on her mind, and it wasn’t their Christmas Eve schedule. “I am looking forward to seeing them. It’s for brunch, yes?”

  “Jah.”

  “Well, it will be a lot of eating, but it shouldn’t be too busy, Deborah,” he said with a smile. “Since the store will be closed, I might even take a nap in the middle of the day.”

  She stopped her wiping and looked in his direction. “Well, I hope it won’t be too much activity, because”—she paused and bit her lip—“well, Jacob, I asked Sheriff Kramer to take us to see your daed on Christmas day.”

  He froze. “You did what?”

  “I stopped by his office to talk to him about visiting hours and such. He said he’d be happy to take us.” Not meeting his eyes, she said, “It’s all arranged.”

  “I think not.”

  “You need to visit your father, Jacob. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

  She was probably right, but he wanted to do this in his own time. “Deborah, I’m not ready.”

  Looking resolved, she shook her head. “That is why I took things out of your hands. Mose and I already called the prison to let them know that we would be coming up to see your father. And I’m not going to back down, especially since Mose was so kind as to offer to take us on Christmas Day of all days. Oh, Jacob, what a gift that will be to your father!”

  “It’s a gift I’m not ready to give!” Though he hated raising his voice, the frustration—and fear—he was feeling overruled his best intentions. “Deborah, you have overstepped your place.”

  “Don’t yell. I’m doing this for you, Jacob.” More quietly, she added, “For us, too. Before you know it, the visit will be over. You can see how you feel then. But it’s important to take this first step.”

  “What if it doesn’t go well?”

  “Then at least you’ll have visited. Jacob, I love you, and I want to be a gut frau. I try to follow your advice on most everything. But this time, you need to trust me to know what is best. And you need this. You need to see your father and find some peace more than anything.”

  Though his teeth were practically grinding, he knew she was right. And though he didn’t expect any miracles, he knew that the sooner he crossed this bridge, the better. “Fine.” Somewhat roughly, he set down the last of the loaves of bread on the table. He turned around, “But Deb—“

  “You don’t need to say anything, Jacob. I don’t care what happens now.” She grabbed his hands and gave them a squeeze, her warm eyes saying everything she wasn’t.

  Her gesture humbled him. She loved him so much, she was willing to risk his anger to do what was right. She was willing to visit a prison on Christmas Day.

  “So, Mrs. Schrock, have you already made us plans for this evening, too?”

  A new light entered her eyes. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

  He braced himself. “And what are we going to do?”

  “Have a nice supper here at home. Just the two of us.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, we are newlyweds . . . I think it will be wunderbaar to be alone with you on the eve of Christmas Eve.”

  “Now that is something we can agree on.” He leaned close and kissed her cheek.

  Laughing, she pushed him away as a pair of customers walked in. “You mustn’t be kissing me in the middle of our workday. Now, off you go. Go help those folks. I have the rest of these rolls to organize. And a special supper to make.”

  Smiling at her enthusiasm, he greeted the women who already had shopping baskets in their hands. “May I help you?”

  The older of the two shook her head. “Thank you, but we won’t be long. We had to pick up a few last-minute Christmas gifts.”

  “My sister and her family were able to make it here for Christmas after all,” the other woman added. “Isn’t that just like it always is? No matter how prepared one is for the big day, something unexpected always occurs.”

  “I’ve had a few unexpected surprises myself,” Jacob murmured.

  The older lady placed three Amish dolls and a box of cookie mix into her basket. “But that’s what makes this season so wonderful-gut, don’tcha think? Christmas truly is a time of blessings . . . and wonderful surprises.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he murmured as he walked slowly back to the counter. Christmas truly did bring them all some surprises . . . and a reminder of their blessings, as well.

  Chapter 12

  Do you ever wish things were different? I used to.

  BETH BYLER

  Could ten seconds ever feel longer? Beth’s pulse raced and she kept glancing over her shoulder, afraid she was being spied upon.

  On the other end of the line, the line clicked as the operator connected them. Then the rings began. One. Two. Three . .

  Four.

  What she was doing was wrong. Chris’s private life was none of her concern. He certainly wouldn’t thank her for meddling. What she should do was hang up.

  Ring number five. She held her finger over the button, ready to end the connection . . .

  “Hello?” The voice was brusque but friendly. Out of breath.

  It was now or never. “Yes. Hello?”

  “Yes?” The lady sounded more impatient now. Like she was about to hang up.

  “Is this the Hart residence?”

  “Yes? May I help you? And listen, if this is a telemarketer, I’m on the do not call list . . . ”

  Beth had no idea what kind of list that was. All she did know was that she’d better say something meaningful, and quickly. “I’m calling about your son.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath. “Which one? Is something wrong? Did something happen?” she blurted, her voice now sounding nervous. “And who is this?”

  “My . . . My name is Beth Byler. I’m calling about Chris.”

>   “Chris?” The woman’s voice seemed to rise a whole octave. “Oh my gosh, Chris. Hold on.” There was a rustle and a clatter as the receiver was set down, followed by a muffled call. “Tim! Come here quick.”

  When the woman got on the phone again, Beth had finally composed herself. It was strange, but just knowing that she’d called the right house and was actually speaking to someone who cared about Chris, too, put her at ease. “Is this is his mamm?”

  “Mamm? Uh, no. I’m his mother,” she said hesitantly. “What, ah, what do you know about Chris?”

  Beth decided the best way to begin was with the basic information. “I live in Marion, Kentucky. Your son, he is a friend of mine.”

  “Have you seen him lately? Is he okay?”

  “He is okay, I suppose,” Beth said slowly. “He is resting here. I am looking after a bed-and-breakfast.” Realizing how choppy everything was sounding, she bit her lip. This wasn’t going too well.

  “Tim?” the woman said again. “Tim, this woman says Chris is with her.”

  There was another click, then a deep voice spoke. “Hello?”

  “Hi,” Beth said. One more time, she introduced herself. “My name is Beth. I am a friend of your son Chris.”

  “Yes?” The man’s voice sounded even more wary.

  “Um, well . . . because it’s Christmas, I wanted to call and let you know that your son is all right.”

  After the briefest of hesitations, he said, “He hasn’t been all right for a long time.”

  Beth was stunned until she remembered that his family didn’t know what he truly did for a living. Oh, but she wished that she had thought things through before she had called them. It was a difficult thing, trying to figure out what to say to clear Chris’s name without giving away his secrets. “Chris is a mighty gut man,” she finally said. “The best.”

  “Miss, where are you from?” his mother asked. “Did you say Kentucky?”

  “Jah.”

  “You sound strange.”

  “I’m Amish.”

  “You’re Amish?” the man repeated.

  Right on his heels, the woman asked, “Our Chris is staying with an Amish woman in a bed-and-breakfast in Marion?”

  “Yes. He was injured, you see. But he is better now.”

  “Injured? What happened?”

  “He was in a fight with some bad men.”

  Chris’s father chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy sound. Instead it sounded bitter. Harsh and disappointed. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but Chris has been lying to you. He’s the bad one.”

  “Nee. That is not true!”

  “What isn’t?” Chris said from behind her.

  She turned so quickly, she almost dropped the phone. “Chris!”

  “Chris is there with you right now? Can you put him on?” his mother said urgently.

  Chris stared at her. “Beth, who are you on the phone with?” As he saw the answer in her eyes, the color drained from his face. “What have you done?”

  “I’m giving you a Christmas present.” Abruptly making up her mind, she thrust the phone at him. “I’ve been talking to your parents, Chris. But I fear I’ve been doing a poor job of it. You . . . you should talk now.”

  He shook his head even while his left hand grabbed the cell phone.

  With a look of pain, he held it up to his ear. “Mom?” he asked. “Dad? Yeah, it’s me.”

  Beth felt like crying. Even though it was hurting him, she knew she had made the right decision. Turning, she grabbed one of the kitchen chairs, dragged it to where Chris was standing, and gently guided him into it.

  “Dad, Mom, there’s a reason I couldn’t contact you. A very good one. Uh, no, Dad. That is actually not what I was doing,” he said quickly.

  Standing off to the side, Beth watched him bite his lip, then shrug. Just as if he’d made a decision. “The truth is that I’ve been working for the DEA for years undercover.” He paused, then spoke again. “Yes, the Drug Enforcement Agency.”

  Just as she was edging away, Chris reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t leave,” he mouthed, just before he spoke out loud again. “I know I looked scary, Mom, but that’s kind of the point.”

  To her bemused surprise, his lips curved up. “I’m not hurt too badly, Mom. Just a little banged up.” He sighed. “It’s nothing, I promise. Stitches.”

  Little by little, Beth felt her anxiety settle as she felt Chris’s whole mood lift. As he continued to talk, asking about his brothers, she watched him run a hand through his hair.

  Then, wonder of wonders, he chuckled.

  “I know, Mom.”

  Danke, Got, she silently prayed. She truly hadn’t been certain that this had been the right thing to do. All she had felt was a real need to make things a little brighter for him while he was still with her.

  Now, all she had to do was pretend that she wasn’t going to miss him terribly when he left the day after Christmas. . . .

  “Beth?”

  Realizing her mind had drifted, she stared at him. “Yes?”

  He handed her the phone again. “My mother wants to talk to you.”

  Feeling awkward, she took the phone from him and put it up to her ear. “Yes?”

  “Thank you,” his mother said, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for calling us. I don’t know if you’ll ever know how much it meant to me to hear Chris’s voice.”

  Gazing at Chris, noticing the change that had come over his features just from the five-minute phone call, Beth realized that she might have some idea about that. Tears filled her eyes.

  “I’m just glad you answered the phone,” she said.

  “I hope one day we’ll get to meet.”

  “Yes. Um, me, too,” she murmured. “I would like that.” Of course, it wasn’t likely. From what Ryan had said, in two days Chris would leave Marion, would most likely leave Kentucky. He was going to get a new name. Get a new identity. And then he’d be gone from her life all over again.

  When she handed the phone back to Chris, he said a few words, then hung up.

  Then he turned to her, his face a mixture of bewilderment and admiration. “I can’t believe you did that. You took me completely by surprise.”

  “I know.” She was secretly pleased with herself. He was a man used to being constantly on alert. She considered it almost a badge of honor that she was able to catch him off guard like that.

  “You shouldn’t have called them without asking me.” His voice was raspy. But was it from anger or something else?

  “I know you are upset with me, but I cannot regret this.” She was just thankful he wasn’t asking her why she’d done it, because she really didn’t know. It had just seemed like the right thing.

  She stared at him. Gazed into that curious shade of blue and green and gray. Then, to her surprise, he yanked her close into a fierce embrace.

  All of a sudden, she was surrounded by Chris. By his tall, muscular build. By his clean scent. By his warmth and his strong personality.

  His hands were firm on her back and head. He was pressing her close, not in a scary, hurtful way, but as if he couldn’t get her close enough.

  As if he was trying to commit that hug to memory.

  In response, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

  Because she knew exactly what he was trying to do. After all, she was trying to do the same thing.

  Chapter 13

  Some moments, some memories, are so special, it’s hard to give them up.

  CHRISTOPHER HART

  The next morning, Chris found himself reliving those brief moments when he’d held Beth tightly in his arms.

  She’d felt so right.

  Chris hadn’t wanted to ever let her go. He’d yearned to imprint to memory the way she felt in his arms. So much so that years from now he’d still be able to recall everything about that moment.

  To remember how it felt to be held by the woman he loved.

  Just as his chin had begun to lower,
as his body stirred, wanting more from her, wanting to kiss her lips, he had thankfully stepped away. A fierce hug was one thing. But kissing her? That would have been a huge mistake.

  After checking his stitches and getting cleaned up, he found Beth in the kitchen.

  “Gut matin! Kaffi?”

  “Coffee sounds good. Thanks.” Chris wondered if she even realized she was speaking Pennsylvania Dutch. As he eyed her, he noticed she was in a pretty raspberry-colored dress, and that her cheeks were rosy and her eyes glowed. “You sure are happy this morning,” he teased.

  “It snowed last night,” she said happily. “So we will have a white Christmas after all.”

  Glancing out the window at the shimmering blanket of freshly fallen snow, he had to admit it looked beautiful.

  Almost as pretty as Beth did at that very moment.

  Oblivious to his thoughts, she set a filled cup in front of him and chattered away. “I’m verra pleased about the snow. But I also can’t stop thinking about your phone call, Chris. All morning, I’ve been thinking about how happy your mamm sounded on the phone. I’m so glad you talked to them.”

  “You gave me quite a Christmas present. I’ll always be grateful.”

  “All I did was make the call,” she reminded him as he sipped his coffee. “Your parents wanted to talk to you. Your mother was overjoyed to know that you were okay.”

  Beth had done something that he’d been afraid to do for years. Though it was tempting to chastise himself for causing them so much pain, he pushed it aside. He’d have plenty of time for recriminations after he left the Yellow Bird Inn and was living by himself in some rundown apartment once again. “I can’t wait to see them. I hadn’t realized until I heard their voices how much I’ve missed them.”

  “I hope you’ll get to see them one day soon.”

  Her smile faltered, right in sync with his plummeting feelings. Here was yet another thing that he wasn’t going to get to do.

  “Maybe. I hope so.”