Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One

by Gray, Shelley Shepard

  After all, there was an unspoken rule between him and most of his friends—guys didn’t even think about other guys’ girlfriends. But he wouldn’t have looked at an Amish girl closely, anyway.

  Back when he’d been in high school, he’d been all about being part of the in-crowd. He’d been a four-year letterman for baseball, and he’d worn his letter jacket around like it was a big deal. Just about any cute girl he’d wanted to date had acted flattered and excited just to be noticed by him.

  Walker knew his head had gotten so full, it had been a wonder it still remained on his head! After a while, he’d started to only worry about his appearance and his reputation.

  Then he’d gone off to community college and had found out real quick that he hadn’t been as special as he thought he was. A late-night conversation with his dad let him know the truth—that his parents had been patiently waiting for him to get over himself, knowing that he’d been simply going through a phase.

  Being out of his small bubble made him realize that the world wasn’t just about him. And, that it wasn’t a nice place, either. That feeling hit home more than ever when the detective showed up, rattling his cage.

  As he pulled into his driveway, he spied Abby sitting on the front steps of their house, waiting for him. Unfortunately, his sister was sitting as she usually did. Looking a little bit lost and a lot in need of a friend. He wasn’t sure why she’d never fit in at school like he had. Maybe it was her awkwardness in social situations? Or maybe it was her way of always analyzing things to the nth degree.

  But whatever the reason, he always felt a rush of protectiveness toward her. She needed him like few other people in the world did.

  He parked his truck off to the side of the driveway, and waved his hand as she watched him approach.

  “What’s up?” he asked, keeping his voice steady and easy as he threw an arm around her shoulders. “How was school?”

  “Fine.”

  “Hey, ‘fine’ is better than usual.” Walker tried to tease a smile from his sister.

  Now that everyone knew she’d found Perry’s body, her reputation at school had gone from being just another awkward girl to the weird one. It was painful to know that she was the new constant source of gossip and ridicule.

  “ ‘Fine’ means no one went out of their way to talk about Perry with me today.” She bit her lip. “And ‘fine’ means that Jessica didn’t make fun of me in chemistry.”

  “Hey, that’s a start, huh?”

  “I don’t know. I think she was just too busy with her new boyfriend to pay me much attention.”

  “Maybe she’s finally realizing that there’s more to you than she thought.” Jeez, he sounded like some kind of Dr. Phil wannabe, but he couldn’t stand her being so depressed. “I mean, you’ve been standing up to her and the other girls in her clique more and more, right?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “You should. Hiding won’t help.”

  Brushing a hand through her blond hair, so curly in the humidity, she looked him in the eye. “I’ve actually been waiting for you for another reason.”

  “Which is?”

  “Are you, um, busy right now?”

  “It’s five. We’re going to eat dinner in an hour.”

  “But after? Are you busy after dinner?”

  He was worn out from talking with the detective and Lydia. More than a little ready to just sit and watch TV. Plus he had a couple of chapters to read for Biology. But there was such sadness mixed with hope in Abby’s voice that he couldn’t bear to put her off without giving her a chance. “I’m just going to watch TV and study. Why?”

  “I wondered if maybe we could go visit Grandma Francis and Grandpa James.”

  He hadn’t seen that one coming. “Tonight?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Why do you want to go see them tonight?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked down. Fussed with a hole in her faded jeans. “You don’t have to stay there if you don’t want. You could just drop me off,” she added quickly.

  Walker didn’t want to go, but at the moment he was more interested in why she was going than the logistics of it all. “If I left, how would you get home?”

  “I could probably stay with them overnight, and then Mom or Dad could pick me up sometime tomorrow.”

  “But you have school . . .” Dismay filled Walker as he began to realize that this was probably yet another one of Abby’s schemes to get out of being at school. “You can’t miss again.”

  “I won’t be missing anything. Tomorrow’s a school holiday—teacher workday or something.”

  Walker nodded, hoping to give himself some time to try to figure out what to say. Though they all loved his father’s parents, it wasn’t a usual thing for him or Abby to want to visit them on the spur of the moment. Usually, visits to their Amish grandparents were accompanied by complaints about the heat, or the chores, or the quiet stillness that surrounded their home.

  “So, what brought this on?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  Yeah, right. Abby’s voice was airy and she wasn’t looking him in the eye. “Come on. I know you pretty well, right? Suddenly, you’ve just decided that you want to go spend the night with our grandparents? Do they even know you’re coming over?”

  “No.”

  “So you just want us to show up? Without an invitation?”

  “They’ve always said we could stop by anytime. That means we don’t need to wait for them to ask, right?”

  He supposed she was right, but it still felt like it would be rude to just drop by unannounced. “I don’t know, Ab.”

  “Come on. It’s not like they’re strangers.” She kicked her feet out in front of her, then crossed them. Then shifted again. Just being restless. Just being Abby. “They’re our grandparents, you know.”

  “They’re also very polite and kind. Probably too polite to turn you away.”

  “I already talked to Mom about it. She said I could go if you didn’t mind taking me.”

  She might not have minded, but Walker had a feeling she probably wasn’t too happy about it. “But what about Dad? They’re his parents.”

  “She said Dad would never stop me from seeing them.”

  “Would never stop is a long way from being happy about this visit.”

  “Walker, if you won’t take me, just say so. Okay? I don’t need all your opinions right now.”

  Her words, and that sad look of acceptance, took the wind out of his sails. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I mean, I know this isn’t what you want to be doing . . .”

  His sister looked so heartbroken, he didn’t have the heart to tell her no. Seeing his grandparents was complicated for him, too. Though it was never spoken of, he’d often felt the tension that rose between their father and his parents. Sometimes it seemed as if their dad was embarrassed by what he now thought of as important—his job, his car, the life he’d built for himself. It also seemed that there were a lot of unspoken conflicts that were never solved.

  However, none of it was his business. He had enough problems without worrying about Abby’s. “How soon do you want to go?”

  “You’ll take me? Really?”

  “I’ll take you right after dinner. But you get to tell Dad yourself.”

  “I will.”

  Now that the burden wasn’t on his shoulders, he added, “Be sure to pack an overnight bag, too. But keep it in the truck. If you get the feeling that they’ll let you spend the night, then you can get it out. Okay?”

  Her smile told him everything he needed to know, and pushed away the rest of his doubts.

  Chapter 6

  “I fished next to Perry once for three hours. When he caught the biggest bass of the day, he grinned, admired that fish, then threw it back. And forbid any of us to tell his parents. Don’t know why.”

  JACOB SCHROCK

  Grandma Francis smelled like sugar cookies. Abby was pre
tty sure she always had. She couldn’t remember a time when her grandmother hadn’t been surrounded by the scent of wholesome goodness. Even as a child, Abby recalled toddling into her grandmother’s kitchen, looking for both a cookie and a warm hug.

  Yep, she had always equated her grandmother with everything good and trustworthy on the earth.

  “Abby! Walker!” Grandma Francis exclaimed the moment they opened up the truck doors. “How gut it is to see you!” Smiling happily, she trotted down the narrow dirt driveway toward them like she was greeting long lost relatives. “What brings you two here this evening?”

  When Walker merely raised an eyebrow and glanced her way, Abby felt nerves overtake her. Obviously her brother was going to let her do all the talking. That was the right thing to do; after all, the reason for the visit had been hers. However, it felt strange to be taking charge. Usually she was more than content to let him do the talking. And he was usually happy to do it.

  As the seconds passed, Grandma Francis’s smile of pleasure was eclipsed by a frown of worry. “Oh, no. Is someone sick? Did something happen to your daed?”

  “Oh, no, Mommi,” she said, using the Pennsylvania Dutch word for Grandma. “Everyone’s fine.”

  “Then why are you standing there like a lost sheep and acting twice as quiet?”

  As their grandmother continued to look at her patiently, Abby cleared her throat. “I wanted to see you and Grandpa. Walker didn’t mind driving me. Is that okay? I mean, I know you didn’t ask me over.”

  “Of course, child. If you want to visit, you are always welcome.” Crossing arms over her comfortable girth, she winked her brother’s way. “You too, Walker. Though you are standing there looking like a tree taking roots, you’re always welcome here.”

  He laughed. “Danke. Sorry for the tree impersonation. Guess I’m just tired.”

  “You don’t need to be anything but how you are, Walker,” Grandma Francis said sweetly, starting to usher them inside, her gray dress brushing against her ankles..

  Though Walker looked at ease, Abby knew she had more to ask. “Um, Mommi, I was also hoping that maybe I could spend the night, too? Would you mind terribly if I slept over and then Mom or someone could take me home tomorrow?”

  “I wouldn’t mind.” Her voice slowed as she looked over Abby with a steady gaze. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No. I, um, just wanted to get away for a little while.”

  After a pause, Grandma Francis nodded. “If you are seeking to get away, I think you picked a perfect place to get to. Now, where is your bag?”

  “In the back of Walker’s truck. I could go get it.”

  “I’ll help Walker get the bag, Abby,” Grandpa James said as he stepped out of the shadows. “I’m not so old that I can’t do that. But you have to give me a hug first.”

  She stepped into his embrace. While her grandma always smelled like cookies, the scent of leather and horses always clung to her grandfather’s skin. She inhaled deeper and felt the muscles in her shoulders relax. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “I know,” he said simply. “But we’re together now, jah?”

  “Jah.” She nodded when they parted.

  He turned to her brother. “Now, Walker, how about you show me where your shveshtah’s suitcase is?”

  “Sure, Dawdi,” Walker replied and walked with his grandfather to his truck.

  Grandma Francis led Abby toward the house and curved a soft hand around her arm. “Now, how about I show you where you can sleep?”

  “All right.” As they walked, Abby noticed that Walker and her grandfather’s voices had lowered. Their tones sounded hushed and private-like, speaking about things they didn’t want her to hear.

  Three cement steps brought them up to the front door. When her Grandma opened it, Abby walked into the dim entryway, smelling the familiar scents of vanilla and lemon oil and embers. Immediately, a sense of calm engulfed her. “Your house always smells the same, Mommi.”

  “Well, I should hope so. My James and I have lived here for years.”

  Abby chuckled. “No, I mean it always smells like you’ve just been baking something and just tamped down a fire in the fireplace.”

  “Most likely that is because that is what has usually happened! It is a rare day that I don’t bake something new, and with this damp March weather, I find my bones yearning for the heat of a fireplace.”

  Abby bent down and pulled off her flats, preferring to feel the wood floor under her bare feet. “Maybe I could bake something with you tomorrow? It’s been a long time since I’ve made cookies with you.”

  Grandma Francis paused. “You’re not going to be anxious to head home?”

  “I was hoping to stay here until Friday afternoon. Or Saturday. If you don’t mind?”

  Resting a hand on her shoulder, her grandmother shook her head. “I don’t mind . . . but I sure would like to know what provoked this impromptu visit.”

  “I just wanted to see you both.”

  “And I just happen to like peaches in the summer, but it don’t mean I go gallivanting around orchards in March. What’s going on?” Her brown eyes narrowed through her glasses. “Are you still having nightmares about finding Perry?”

  She was, but she hated to talk about them. She far preferred to ignore the dreams that visited her every night. They seemed to be as inevitable as being talked about at school.

  “The dreams aren’t too bad,” she lied as they walked upstairs.

  “Something is, though, yes?”

  Abby felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment.

  Her grandmother paused in front of the first closed door on the left. “Abby, you are my granddaughter and are welcome to stay here for as long as you like. I am also happy to bake with you, too. But I would rather have your honesty. Please tell me what’s on your mind. And I want to hear everything, too. Not just the parts you think are good for my ohr,” she said, pointing to her ear.

  Feeling caught, Abby hedged. “It’s complicated.”

  “That’s all right. I’ve lived long enough to understand complicated stories.”

  Abby stared at her sharply. Was Grandma Francis teasing her?

  Her grandmother didn’t budge from her post in front of the paneled oak door. It seemed as if she wasn’t going to move until Abby explained everything.

  But she had gone to her grandparents’ house to escape from everything, not to make sense of her feelings. “I’m not sure you’d understand.”

  “Believe it or not, I’ve had thorny things happen to me,” she said gently. “I wasn’t always old, you know.”

  “You’re not old.”

  “I’m far older than you! Now are you ready to talk?”

  “I don’t want to talk about finding Perry.” She was so tired of talking about that day. So tired of revisiting the memories.

  “If you’re not upset about that, suppose you tell me what has gotten you so spun in circles.”

  Across from the landing was a window looking out onto the driveway. Directly below, she could see her brother leaning up against his truck, arms folded across his chest like he always did, laughing. He looked tanned and healthy, happy and handsome—he looked confident and sure of himself.

  And completely the opposite of Abby. As she watched her brother talk, Abby felt tears prick her eyes. They were only three years apart in age, but had always been so far in attitude and demeanor. “I’m not anything like Walker,” she blurted.

  “I would hope not. One Walker is enough for this family.”

  Instead of smiling at the joke, she felt even worse. “No, Mommi. He was popular at school. Really popular.” She sputtered, suddenly wondering if such things even mattered if you were Amish. “Do you know what that means?”

  “Popular? Oh, yes. I’ve heard that term a time or two over the years.”

  Abby flushed as she realized she was sounding condescending. “Did you ever care about things like popularity?”

  “Did I ever?” she murmured with
a faint smile. “Me? Not so much. For others though, I think it mattered more.” She opened the door to the bedroom and waved Abby forward. “This is your room. Come sit down on the bed with me and we’ll talk more, jah?”

  Abby sat down on the beautiful white quilt. It was covered with tiny white stitches in the shape of flowers.

  Taking care to keep her feet off the quilt, she perched on the edge. “Why didn’t it matter to you?”

  “I think because I was happy with myself. I was lucky, I think, Abby. I was one of those few people born knowing what I wanted in life. I grew up next to your grandfather, so I knew I wanted to always be with him one day. And I always wanted to be like my mother, fussing with a houseful of kinner.”

  “I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up. Sometimes I don’t even know who I want to be.”

  “Well, of course you don’t! You’re too young to know such things.”

  “I’m eighteen.”

  “Eighteen ain’t all that old, Abby. I promise that, though you love to analyze things, there is no hurry. Give yourself some time to simply enjoy each day.”

  “That’s not easy to do.”

  “It’s not easy because you’ve had a difficult time of it lately. But, I promise, there’s a reason for everything. I suspect that the Lord probably wants you to rest for a spell.”

  “If that’s what He wants, I’m not so sure I want to follow the Lord’s advice.” She felt so haunted by the memory of discovering a dead body and so alienated by everyone knowing, all she wanted was a chance to start over. The idea of having to wait longer made her stomach clench in knots.

  She had to do something soon. Thinking of her father, and the way he talked about wanting to be different than the way his parents wanted him to be, she asked, “Mommi, did it bother you when Dad didn’t want to be Amish?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you mad at him?”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “Nee. I wasn’t mad, I don’t think. I felt more sad than anything, to be sure. I knew if Tim wasn’t Amish that we wouldn’t see as much of each other.”