Love Finds You in Sugarcreek, Ohio

by Serena B. Miller

“My flowers?”

  “I’m sure Joe won’t hurt your flowers, Anna.”

  “Oh my!” Stephanie’s voice was filled with awe. “Look at that!”

  The table and shelves were spread with three kinds of pies, several dozen cookies, and four cakes. A small cash box sat on the counter. The kitchen smelled like a bakery.

  “Lydia?” Rachel called.

  Her aunt came rushing in, positioning a strip of double-sided Scotch tape to the inside of her prayer kapp.

  “Why are you putting tape in that little hat?” Stephanie asked.

  Lydia positioned the kapp on her head and pressed it down with the flat of her hand. “It helps keep it in place.”

  “She used to stick it on with straight pins,” Rachel said.

  Stephanie winced. “You’re kidding.”

  “It is not as bad as you make it sound.” Lydia shot Rachel a disapproving look. “We wove the pin through the kapp and a few strands of hair.”

  “The tape I bought you works well?” Rachel said.

  “We appreciate your gift, Rachel. It does indeed work better than the pins.” She looked at Stephanie. “And who is this?”

  “A new friend.” Rachel didn’t want to get into the details yet. “She’s staying with me for a little while. Her name is Stephanie, and this is my aunt, Lydia.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Stephanie said.

  Lydia accepted Rachel’s introduction and explanation at face value. Evidently, if Rachel wanted to have a pregnant teenager living with her, Lydia wouldn’t question it. At least not while Stephanie was present.

  “That pumpkin pie looks really, really good,” Stephanie said. “I think I could eat the whole thing. Seriously.”

  “The whole thing?” Lydia’s eyes gleamed. “Here, let me get you a fork and knife.” She bustled about, sat the girl down at the table, and watched her dig in.

  She stretched out her hand. “That will be four dollars and fifty cents,” she informed Rachel.

  “Lydia thought you might need sustenance.”

  Joe glanced up from his work. Rachel had three cookies and a glass of water with her.

  “You must be her favorite. She’s not charging you,” she said.

  Joe leaned his shovel against the wheelbarrow. “Thanks.” He grabbed the glass and took a long swig of the water. “I did buy an apple pie from her earlier, if that makes you feel any better.”

  “I’m already missing the good old days when Lydia simply baked for the joy of watching me eat it.”

  “She is baking for the joy of it—the joy of purchasing material for those Haitian girls. Oh, you might want to know that they’re also purchasing seed packets to fold into the cloth when they ship it. You wouldn’t believe how much fun your aunts are having over that.”

  “I can imagine. They’ve always sponsored a child or two, but now that they’ve closed down the inn, they’re really focusing on this project.” She handed him the cookies. “You want these?”

  “Lydia’s sugar cookies? Absolutely.”

  “Anna saw your shovel and is concerned that you might dig up some of her flowers,” Rachel said.

  “Tell her not to worry.” He licked a cookie crumb off his thumb. “My mom loved flowers. I know how to be careful.”

  He glanced over at a large maple tree in the backyard. A heavy wooden bench leaned against it.

  “I could use a break,” he said. “Want to sit a minute?”

  “Sounds good.” Rachel strolled over to the bench with him. “Although by the time I get back, I might owe Lydia a good chunk of my paycheck. I think Stephanie is capable of eating me and my aunts out of house and home.”

  “The little mother has an appetite, has she?”

  “You could say that.”

  “So what’s the news on our mystery girl?” Joe asked as they sat down.

  “The doctor wasn’t impressed with her amnesia story. And he says she’s about seven months pregnant.”

  “Then you don’t have a lot of time.”

  “No, but I doubt she can stick to her story much longer. Now that she’s fed and rested, she’s turning out to be quite a chatterbox. If I spend enough time with her, I think she’ll slip up and I’ll be able to figure it out.”

  Joe grinned. “Like you did with me?”

  “You weren’t easy.”

  “I’m flattered. Besides waiting for Stephanie to slip up, is there anything else we can do?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve checked her picture against all the runaways and missing persons’ pictures.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Fingerprints?”

  “She’s not in the system.”

  Joe relaxed against the bench. “Well, at least that’s one good thing.”

  “I suppose.”

  “So.” Joe stretched out his long legs. “You’re sharing your house with a pregnant girl who can’t—or won’t—remember her name.”

  “She’s mentioned a grandmother, so there must be someone who’s worried about her.”

  “I hope so.”

  “In some ways, she’s a really neat person. There must be someone in her life who helped her become that way.”

  “You’re getting attached to her.”

  “She’s talking about becoming a cop when she grows up.”

  “Ah. I’m sure she is. Being around you would make any girl want to be just like you.”

  “You think?” Rachel blushed. “I’d better be getting back.” She stood up.

  Joe grasped her wrist. “Stay for a minute.”

  Surprised, she sat down.

  Joe didn’t let loose of her wrist. “I want to ask you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “One of the guys at the hardware store told me about a movie playing at the Quaker Theatre over in New Philadelphia that his son liked. I think Bobby would enjoy it too. It involves animated bugs. If you’ll drive, I’ll buy the tickets and the popcorn.”

  “I—I could do that.”

  “Meet me back here at six?”

  “I don’t know what to do about Stephanie.”

  “Bring her along, of course. Do you suppose she likes bug movies?”

  Her lips quirked. “If there’s popcorn and chocolate candy involved, she’ll like it.”

  “It’s a date. I’ll see you tonight.”

  He felt a lifting of his spirits as he went back to work and she went in to collect Stephanie. It isn’t really a date, he reminded himself. Real dates didn’t usually involve bringing small boys and pregnant teenagers along.

  Still, he found that he was looking forward to this evening very much.

  An hour later, with the holes satisfactorily filled, Joe put away the wheelbarrow and shovel, rinsed off his hands at the pump, and went to the aunts’ kitchen to collect Bobby—who had spent the afternoon alternately playing with his kitten and entertaining Lydia’s customers with a running commentary on her baked goods.

  As much as he loved his son, sitting inside a dimly lit house for an entire evening with only a dancing pickle for company was not his idea of a great evening. After several days of going to bed extremely early, a movie sounded really nice. Going with Rachel sounded even nicer. Now that he no longer had to hide his identity from her—now that they were friends—asking the pretty cop to accompany him to a kids’ movie seemed an excellent way to spend the evening.

  Except that she’d blushed when he’d asked her.

  And she wasn’t the kind of woman to blush easily.

  As a cop, she had no doubt waded into scenes that would make some grown men faint. And yet she had blushed and stammered when he’d issued a friendly invitation to watch a bug movie with him and his son.

  He didn’t know whether to be worried or happy. Was there the remotest possibility that she might be interested in him?

  What an intriguing thought. Rachel Troyer, all strength and loyalty, combined with a graceful beauty that could turn heads even in a no-nonsense cop’s
uniform. Strange, how she seemed utterly unaware of her attractiveness. He wanted to get to know her better. A lot better.

  Would that be a mistake?

  I’ve got your back, Joe.

  Her words came back to him. She had meant them.

  No, spending time with Rachel was not a mistake. In spite of the cloud hanging over him, in spite of all that had happened back in LA, he was going to allow himself to enjoy her company at the movies tonight.

  Rachel was in her bedroom trying to decide what to wear when she heard retching coming from the bathroom. She rushed in to check on Stephanie.

  “Are you okay?”

  Stephanie’s face was ashen, and her eyes were red and teary from the strain of being sick. “I thought morning sickness was supposed to happen only in the morning—but I never know when it’s going to hit.”

  “I’ve heard that happens sometimes. Of course, maybe it’s not morning sickness. Maybe it’s all that food you ate today.”

  “I couldn’t help it. I seem to be hungry all the time these days.”

  Rachel looked at her watch. It was 5:45. They needed to be leaving. She pulled a washcloth out of a drawer, wet it, and handed it to Stephanie, who was sitting on the floor beside the commode. “Maybe this will help.”

  Stephanie wiped her face, got up from the bathroom floor, rinsed out her mouth, and looked at Rachel.

  “Would you care if I don’t go to the movie with you? I don’t feel so good.”

  “Are you feeling better now?”

  “Yes.”

  “You won’t be afraid to stay here by yourself?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’ll just watch TV.”

  “I’ll have my cell phone on me. Call me if you need me.”

  “You go on and see that bug movie, Rachel. And have fun with Joe.”

  “I will. But, sweetheart, I want you to be thinking seriously about what you’re going to do. You could be giving birth within the next few weeks, and you need to be with your family when that happens. Staying here with me is not an option.”

  “I know. I just can’t remember.”

  Rachel blew out a sigh. Deflated by Stephanie’s illness and her lack of honesty, she silently finished getting ready.

  Joe and Bobby were sitting on the front porch steps of the daadi haus when she pulled up. Joe had showered and changed. Bobby, a pint-sized image of Joe, beamed up at her.

  Joe stood. “Give Rachel your present, buddy.”

  Bobby brought his arm out from behind his back and presented Rachel with one late, wilted rose from the aunts’ flower garden.

  “Bobby seems to be under the impression that a gentleman should give flowers to a lady on their first date.”

  Rachel tried to ignore the feeling of pleasure the use of that word “date” gave her. Was that truly how Joe was viewing their evening together? Deep down, she hoped so.

  She stooped to take the flower from Bobby’s hand. The child was so innocent. So trusting. So easy to love. In fact, she already loved him.

  “Thank you, Bobby,” she said. “It’s lovely.”

  “My mommy liked flowers.”

  Her heart turned over. “I’ll bet she did.”

  “Where’s Stephanie?”

  “She’s not feeling so good tonight.”

  “Oh?” Joe said, concerned. “Is everything all right?”

  “She lost her supper before I left. It’s either belated morning sickness or too much of Lydia’s pie. I’ve got my cell phone on me and she promised to call if she needed something.”

  He glanced down at Bobby. “You ready to go see some bugs?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Joe looked at Rachel. “Are you ready to go see some bugs?”

  Rachel tucked the rose into a buttonhole on her yellow cardigan. “Can’t wait.”

  Bobby grasped her hand and smiled up at her. Then he reached for his father’s hand, forming a solid link between her and Joe. As they walked toward the car, she had the feeling that her life was finally beginning.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rachel hummed as she donned her work jeans the next morning. Today she was going to help start painting the farmhouse that Joe had scraped and prepared. Many of her Amish cousins were coming to help. Today was going to be an Amish work frolic—something her aunts had been looking forward to for weeks.

  Best of all was that she would be working alongside Joe.

  Even though her jeans were worn, they fit pretty well, and she was wearing a deep maroon sweatshirt with them. Then, surprising herself, she screwed in a pair of gold hoops and added a line of pale lipstick. Looking nice around Joe had begun to be a priority.

  “You’re lookin’ good.” Stephanie walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. “Not wearing them ugly police pants today?”

  Joe’s T-shirt was stretched tight around Stephanie’s middle. A pair of Rachel’s jogging pants were rolled beneath her belly. If the girl stayed much longer, they’d need to do some serious shopping. But, of course, she wasn’t going to be staying much longer. Yesterday Rachel had mentioned the possibility of contacting Children’s Services, thinking the threat of foster care might jog Stephanie’s memory.

  “I’m hungry. Are you fixing anything for breakfast?”

  “Help yourself to whatever you want. I’m headed over to the farmhouse to help paint. I asked you last night if you wanted to come. Remember?”

  Stephanie scratched her belly. “Watching people paint doesn’t sound like fun to me. I’ll hang out here and read some magazines or watch some TV.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I might throw up again.”

  “Okay.” Rachel felt a twinge of conscience. Stephanie seemed to be alone too much. But there was nothing she could do about it right now. She was looking forward to the day too much to stay home and babysit her.

  Babysit. It worried her that Stephanie would be in charge of an infant in a few weeks.

  Rachel shoved her concerns about Stephanie aside, finished packing her mother’s old picnic basket with the muffins she had baked last night, and headed out the door. Nothing was going to keep her from enjoying today. She wasn’t going to worry about anything except having a wonderful time with a good man and his sweet little boy.

  She hummed along with the radio. It was a beautiful fall day, and all her windows were rolled down as she drove to the farm.

  Her foot hit the brake when she saw a black news van parked in front of the daadi haus. A smaller white van was parked in the driveway…and a group of people milled about in the yard with microphones and cameras.

  Bewildered-looking Amish, prepared for a workday, stayed huddled inside their buggies to avoid being photographed. She saw Anna peeking out of an upstairs window.

  Heartsick, she parked her Mustang, climbed out, and began to elbow her way through the small crowd to the daadi haus’s door.

  “Coming through,” she commanded.

  As a cop, she was used to crowds opening up for her when she asked. Dressed in civilian clothes, her “cop’s voice” was ineffective. The reporters turned on her with interest.

  “Are you his girlfriend? A relative? Can you tell us anything at all about Micah Mattias? How long has he been here? Is it true he’s been working as a handyman for Amish people? Is his son with him? Has the boy told you what he saw the night his mother was killed?”

  Rachel realized that cameras were being trained on her and she tried to shield her face with her hand as she steadily worked her way onto Joe’s porch.

  “Joe! It’s me!” she shouted, pounding on the door.

  It opened a crack, and she angled her body inside. Once she was in, Joe closed it against the clamor of questions outside. As it clicked shut, she looked into eyes filled with anger.

  He held Bobby in his arms. The little boy’s head was buried in his neck, and he was crying. Joe’s face was dark with fury.

  “What happened?” Rachel asked.
/>   “Perhaps you can tell me.”

  Rachel was surprised. Why was he angry with her?

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “Why are they here? How did they find out?”

  “What did you do, Rachel? Confide in a girlfriend? Mention it to some guy at work? Send an anonymous e-mail to a gossip magazine?”

  “You think I—?” Her voice choked at the unfairness of the accusation. “You know I wouldn’t—”

  Joe cut her off with a slash of his hand. “You were the only one who knew. I trusted you.” His jaw clenched. “Do you know the questions they tried to ask my little boy this morning when he innocently opened the door? Can you imagine what they threw at him? Did you even think about the two lives you were destroying when you told whoever it was you told? Or did you just want to be known as the girl cop who had discovered Micah Mattias’s hiding place?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Get out, Rachel. I’ll deal with these people. I’ve dealt with them before—but I never want to see you again.”

  He opened the door and practically shoved her outside. Rachel stumbled into the cacophony of questions and microphones.

  “Did he confess to murdering his wife? How long has he been hiding here? What’s your connection to him? Are you dating him? Did you have a relationship before his wife died? What are all these buggies doing here?”

  Rachel pushed her way through the sea of bodies, so shocked by Joe’s accusations that she could barely process anything that was happening. She saw the reporters’ mouths move, but it was as though they were talking silently and in slow motion.

  Amish buggies began to work their way back toward the road. The work frolic her aunts had looked forward to was ruined.

  As she pulled away, she saw the curtains being yanked shut, one by one, in the downstairs windows of her aunts’ house as a news photographer tried to point a camera inside. It had been decades since her aunts’ curtains, one dark cloth panel per window, had been released from the single swag holding them back and positioned to block out the world.

  How bewildered the three of them must feel right now.

  She considered going inside and trying to explain to them what was happening, but it would take too much time. They would be all right for now. She had a higher priority.