Peace

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  With a renewed sense of conviction, Chris opened the door. And received the surprise of his life.

  “It’s about time you got your act together, Hart,” his boss said scathingly. “I’ve been standing out here looking like a vagrant, knocking on the door and freezing half to death. Do you have any idea how cold it is out here?”

  “I’m beginning to get an idea,” he said as the frigid air fanned his cheeks. “Ryan, what are you doing here?”

  Without being invited, his boss, all five-foot-nine inches and one hundred and seventy pounds of him, strode through the door with a fierce scowl. “What took you so long? I was about to shoot the lock! Who the heck did you think it was?”

  There was no reason to lie. And every reason to defend himself. “Who do you think?” he asked as he closed the door behind Ryan and secured the dead bolt. “I thought it was Hager or one of his buddies who tried to kill me two days ago.”

  Ryan grinned and briefly patted his arm in an almost tender way. “Just for the record, I am glad you’re alive. The word was that you were in pretty bad shape.”

  “I was. But I’m healing. So, why are you here? I was told to sit tight until December twenty-sixth. Has something else happened?”

  “Yeah. Listen, we need to talk.” As Chris led him to the living room Ryan looked around him with interest. Chris could see him taking in the arrangement of Christmas cards over the mantel, eyeing the arrangement of glass ornaments in a wooden bowl, and smelling the scent of cinnamon and spice in the air.

  As he fingered one of the thick quilts lying on the arm of the overstuffed couch, Ryan turned back to Chris. “Where are we, by the way?”

  “In Amish country.” Somewhat caustically he added, “Welcome to the Yellow Bird Inn.”

  “It’s homey. And, ah, festive.”

  “It’s more than that. It’s off the grid. No one comes here unless they know about it.”

  “I had a tough time tracking you down, that’s for sure. Taylor thought you might be out this way. We finally called the sheriff and only got information out of him after we pretty much told him our whole life story.”

  “That sounds like Mose Kramer. He’s a good man.”

  “So, who owns this place? Can you trust him?”

  “It’s owned by a woman, a Mennonite woman. But she’s out of town. Her friend is watching over things, and I bet she’s scared to death. I’ve got to go get her.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I sent her upstairs to hide.” Already imagining Beth’s tears, Chris was anxious to get to her. “Listen, have a seat. I’m going to go get her. I’ll be right back.”

  “Actually, I think I’ll join you.”

  “Do you not trust me? Or are we still in danger?”

  “Let’s just say I’m not eager to let you out of my sight right now.”

  That sounded cryptic. But since Chris had no choice in the matter, he shrugged. “All right. You can come with me. But try not to look scary,” he said as they climbed the stairs to the second floor, then walked down the hall.

  His boss said nothing as they made their way into his room, then pulled the ceiling trap door and ladder down leading up to the attic.

  He remained silent as Chris’s pulse sped up. He was sure she would have said something by now.

  “Beth?” Chris called out. “You can come down now. It’s safe.”

  He heard a snuffle. “Chris? Is that you?”

  Beside him, he felt Ryan’s body tense with interest. Unbidden, a pang of jealousy tore through him at the thought of Ryan checking Beth out. She might not be his but she was his to take care of. At least for the time being.

  Climbing up the first two rungs, he said, “I promise, everything’s okay, you can come on down.”

  Chris felt his cheeks and neck go red as he heard the tone he was using in front of his boss, but he steadfastly ignored the way his boss was eyeing him.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?”

  He had to smile. If he were really in trouble and had come to retrieve her, he knew he’d have no choice but to say whatever it took to get her to comply.

  “I’m sure.”

  He climbed up the rest of the rungs and poked his head into the narrow crawl space where she was hidden. Realizing how dark it was, he started to worry about her. “Where are you? It’s bigger than I thought. Do you need me to find a flashlight or a candle or something?”

  “Candle?” Ryan murmured.

  “You’ll understand soon,” Chris said under his voice. Far more concerned about taking care of Beth, he climbed up another rung. “Hey, how about I come up to get you?”

  “There’s no need,” she said after a moment’s pause. “I can come down. If . . . if you’re sure we’re safe.”

  He hated that she was so frightened. He hated that he’d done this to her. “I’m sure.” With a bit of surprise, he realized he had an endless amount of patience where she was concerned. He didn’t mind her nervousness. Didn’t care that she needed a lot of assurance.

  All he cared about was her well-being.

  When he saw her face peeking out, half hidden in the attic’s dark shadows, he saw that it was tearstained. “Everything is all right,” he said as calmly as he could. “Come on down. It was just Ryan, by the way. He’s my boss.”

  As she shuffled toward him, Chris started down the ladder.

  As he reached the floor, he held out his hand to offer it to Beth. To his surprise, he felt himself half holding his breath as she descended. Her safety and care was his main concern now.

  As her black flats, then dark blue skirts came into view, he had to stop himself from reaching out to embrace her. And when she turned to stare at Ryan with wide eyes, he saw her eyes were distrustful.

  “Like Chris said, I’m Ryan. Ryan Holditch,” his boss said as he held out a hand.

  She ignored it, looking at Chris in concern instead.

  This time he did give in to temptation. Stepping to her side, he rested a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

  It seemed he was beyond subtleties now. “He’s a good man, I promise.”

  But instead of looking relieved, her expression grew more uneasy. “Why is he here?” she whispered.

  After a quick glare in Ryan’s direction, effectively stopping any comment he was about to make, Chris guided her toward the hallway. “How about we talk downstairs?”

  For a moment, he was sure she was going to refuse to budge. But then she walked down the steps, her head high.

  “Wow,” Ryan murmured before following Chris down the stairs.

  He understood what his boss meant. Beth was lovely. There was something else about her, too. Something that made a man want to take another look at her. There was little that was weak or fragile about her. Despite her tears, there was a silent strength that was intoxicating.

  He knew right then and there that he would do anything in order to protect her from harm.

  He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that. There were countless reasons why his boss would show up, unannounced, two days before Christmas. But none of those reasons were good.

  Chapter 10

  Christmas comes but once a year. Thank the Lord for that.

  CHRISTOPHER HART

  When the three of them were sitting, Chris next to Beth on the couch, Ryan perched on an uncomfortable-looking chair across from them, Chris spoke.

  “Tell me why you’re here. This isn’t proper protocol.”

  “Billy Ivester is dead.”

  It took everything Chris had to take the news in a calm manner. “When did you hear?”

  “About two hours before I started the drive.” He paused. “His throat was cut.”

  Guilt hit Chris hard. He’d done everything he could to earn Billy’s trust . . . all so he would spill secrets. He tried to speak, but too much emotion clogged his throat. Billy’s death was his fault.

  Suddenly, Ryan’s face looked more haggard. “I don’t have to tell you that this changes everything.”
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  Though he hated to drag Beth further into his world and problems, it was obvious that he had no choice. Though it pained him to speak, he forced himself to admit what he’d done. “Billy was . . . a kind of inadvertent informant,” he told her, practically choking on the word was. “He was barely twenty-one.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “Me, too.” He meant it, too.

  His boss shook his head in a derisive way. “Don’t waste your sympathy on him. He was a dealer for years, and a snitch, too. Neither of those occupations guarantees long life, Chris. This was no naïve kid.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The words were true, but it didn’t really matter to him. All Chris could think about was when he’d met the fresh-faced kid for the very first time. It had been at the back of a crowded bar in downtown St. Louis. When Chris had first seen him, he’d wondered how the kid had even gotten past the bouncers.

  Billy was short for his age, had freckles. Skinny. At first glance, he’d looked like the most innocent twenty-year-old on the planet.

  But then Billy had started talking. Within seconds of hearing his profanity-laced speech, all twisted up in a husky voice—due to years of chain-smoking unfiltered cigarettes—anyone would know that it had been a very long time since Billy had been a child.

  “But even though he was a tough kid, he sure was too young to die.”

  “We found out he told Hager what you guys had been talking about . . . all the stuff he shared with you. That’s why they went after you.”

  Chris shook his head. That kid . . . just desperate for someone to pay him mind, not realizing his mouth could get him, well, killed.

  “Yep. Your cover is completely blown. But the good news is that Billy’s death was messy enough to track down Hager. Taylor collared him.”

  “That’s great,” he said, though disappointment for his own failures was almost choking him. “Taylor’s a good agent.”

  Ryan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Taylor is. She did a good job with Hager. We’ve been after him for years.”

  A new, worrisome thought entered Chris’s mind. Was he about to be replaced? Was that why his boss had trekked all the way out to Crittenden County so close to Christmas? “Did you come for my resignation?”

  “Of course not.” Looking vaguely uncomfortable, he said, “We’ve known each other a long time, Chris. I know that kid meant something to you.” He shrugged. “I wanted to tell you in person before you got picked up and taken to your next assignment.”

  “Thanks for that.” Not wanting to talk about Billy any longer, he switched topics. “So, you’re moving me.”

  “Yep. On the twenty-sixth.”

  “I’ll be ready. I’ll be healed up fine by then.”

  “All of this happens, just like that?” Beth asked, her voice sounding slightly indignant.

  “I’m afraid so,” Ryan said, having the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Moves don’t always happen this quickly, but structures are in place in case the need arises. We try to keep our men safe.” He paused, eyeing Chris with a bit of chagrin. “It’s a dangerous job, though.”

  Standing up, he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a phone. “Use this if you need to, my contact numbers are already programmed in. I also brought you some more clothes. They’re in a sack by the front door.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. We’ll be taking your truck today. Do you have any personal items in it that you need to retrieve?”

  “No.”

  “All right, then. Taylor or someone from support will bring you your new vehicle and papers on the twenty-sixth.”

  “Understood.” They’d been through these types of conversations many times. There wasn’t room for emotion on either of their parts. Chris had a job to do, and Ryan’s job was to make sure he did it.

  Unwanted warnings or doubts had no place in their work.

  But Beth was staring at the two of them like they were creatures from another planet.

  Ryan put his hand out. “Beth, it was nice to meet you. Now, though, I need to get on my way.” With a wry smile, he added, “Christmas is coming, you know.”

  Chris walked him to the door. “Thank you for coming to tell me in person,” he said simply. He ached to add a hundred other things. To apologize for the mess he’d made of the case. To ask Ryan about what the higher-ups really thought. To get a hint about where he was going to be assigned next.

  But this wasn’t the time or place. Besides, if Ryan had wanted him to know something, he would have already said it.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said instead.

  Ryan held out his hand and shook Chris’s gravely. “Merry Christmas.” Glancing at Beth, who was standing by the couch, still looking lost, he added, “To both of you.”

  The moment Chris opened the door, the black Suburban pulled up, followed by his beat-up truck.

  Within minutes, both were out of sight.

  After picking up the sack of clothes, Chris closed the door and locked it behind him. “So, this means you’re safe. No one is going to be attempting to break in. At least not because of me. Now all we have to do is get through Christmas. Then I’ll be out of your way soon after.”

  Beth’s eyes widened but she said nothing.

  It was all too much. Billy’s death. Ryan’s appearance. The knowledge that he was about to be someone else, probably somewhere very far away.

  It was overwhelming.

  “I’m going to go upstairs, Beth.”

  She walked toward him. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about things?”

  “No, I’m not ready to talk about any of that.” Billy most of all. That kid had been a felon and a drug addict, but in spite of all that, Chris had hoped that one day the kid would want to change, and that Chris’s presence in his life would provide him with an avenue out.

  Now, because he’d gotten so beaten up, he hadn’t been there to look out for Billy. And because of that, Billy would never get the chance to lead a different life.

  “At least let me get you something to eat.”

  “Not right now, Beth. I need to be alone. And now that I know that I don’t need to keep watch, I need to get some sleep.”

  “All right.”

  He forced himself to start walking before he got too tired and started telling Beth about all the doubts he was wrestling with. Ever since he’d left the Yellow Bird Inn months ago, he’d been struck by how much of his real life he missed.

  He missed his parents. He missed his brothers and regretted not getting to know their wives. Most of all, he’d missed having a decent reputation. He was tired of constantly having to pretend to be someone he would never want to know.

  Most of all, he had spent too many hours thinking about Beth. Wishing there was a way that they could have a real relationship.

  Since those wishes were far from coming true, it was definitely best to push them aside. No good would ever come from sharing them with Beth.

  “I’ll see you later, Beth,” he murmured before going to his room, turning off the light, and lying down.

  Only then did he close his eyes and let the tears flow. For Billy, for his failures, for his life.

  And because, although he no longer felt like his sacrifices were worth the gains . . . he still didn’t feel strong enough to give it all up.

  Chapter 11

  My mother used to say that it was far more important to be the right person than to find the right person. Good advice, that.

  MOSE KRAMER

  As the hours passed, there seemed to be nowhere to go.

  Beth stood in the middle of the inn’s entryway, feeling the leftover chill from the door opening. Feeling the chill of Ryan’s departure.

  What a curious tumble of events had just occurred! In the span of only an hour, she’d been huddled, frightened half to death in the dark of Frannie’s attic. Then Chris’s unassuming boss had appeared.

  For the first few seconds, she’d let
her imagination get the best of her—she’d feared that Chris had been taken hostage and was helpless.

  She’d been sure that it was going to be up to her to save the day!

  Next had come Ryan’s revelations. Her heart had gone out to Chris as she’d watched him attempt to remain stoic. Then, almost as soon as he’d arrived, Ryan had left.

  But not before sharing the news that Chris would be on to another job very soon. And then? He would be gone from her life forever.

  All that would remain would be a series of vivid memories and devastating feelings, all mixed up with the knowledge that she, too, would need to move on.

  “And move on from what?” she mumbled to herself out loud. “You have no special relationship. Not really.”

  If she ever confided in anyone, she knew they would tell her that she needed to accept their differences and move on with her life. She needed to look around at the men in her community. It was time to be married and start having children of her own.

  She needed to accept her way of life and the place she would have in it.

  And so what if she wasn’t thrilled about her future? Being giddy and happy didn’t mean much, not in the grand scheme of things. Being content was what counted.

  Her mother had taught her that.

  Her sweet mother had been dealt a hard blow but she never complained. Beth had never heard her ask why she had been the one to live most of her life in a wheelchair. She’d never seemed overly frustrated by the limits on her life.

  Beth had a perfectly healthy body, and a good mind, too. She had a mother who loved her, friends who were genuine and caring, and a community that she thought was the prettiest ever.

  She was a selfish girl to wish for anything more.

  Feeling as if she were in a daze, she walked to the kitchen and put the kettle on to heat. Instead of busying herself in the kitchen, heating soup for Chris or attempting to bake bread, she sat and looked out the tiny kitchen window above the sink.