His mother said nothing more as he marched the rest of the way of the stairs. Not another word about Abby. Not even about the two cans of Coke so late at night.
But even though she was quiet, he knew she was smiling.
Huh. He was, too.
Watch out, Lydia!” Mr. Schrock called out when she entered the front door of the Schrock Variety Store just thirty minutes after it had opened for the day. “We’ve got a snake on the loose.”
A snake? With a gasp, she scrambled backward. “Where is it?”
“If I knew, it wouldn’t be on the loose now, would it?”
Looking around the shop, she shared looks of sympathy with the other folks who’d had the misfortune to venture into Schrock’s that day. A whole band of customers were standing in a rough semicircle, each wearing a pained look. Like they were trapped in their worst nightmare.
Well, all except Walker. He looked like he was the only sane person in the middle of a roomful of clowns and monkeys. When their eyes met, he winked.
Afraid to move, she lifted her teal dress’s hem slightly. “So, do I want to ask why there’s a snake running about?”
“That would be slithering about, Lydia,” Walker corrected from his post by the back door. “Snakes don’t run.”
“You should know that. You’re a smart girl,” Mr. Schrock reprimanded.
Lydia knew she was smart enough to realize that she still hadn’t gotten a straight answer. Looking around, she scanned the crowd, hoping for a familiar, sympathetic face. She got lucky when she spied Mary King Yoder. “What’s going on?”
“Mr. Schrock was fed up with the guinea pigs, you see,” Mary King said with a frown.
Looking into the pen, two of the orange rodents stared right back at her. They looked cute and calm and easy enough to handle. “I still don’t follow. What’s wrong with them?”
“Those are fine,” Walker said. “Mr. Schrock is concerned about the ones who got away.”
Remembering the last time she’d been in, only to find Walker on his knees looking under a shelf, she shook her head. “You still haven’t found the escapees?”
Slowly Mr. Schrock shook his head. “They create a real mess, I tell ya. They’ve eaten through sacks of flour and popcorn. Poor Walker here’s been cleaning up after them nonstop.”
Lydia dared to meet Walker’s eye again.
He was visibly fighting off a smile.
“Mr. Schrock, I understand your dilemma, but I’d much rather have a pig brush my ankle than a scary snake bite it.”
“Oh, child. You should follow that old saying, ‘If you can’t see the bright side, polish the dull side’!”
Mr. Schrock truly did love his Amish sayings.
He continued, “Besides, Lydia, they’re not venomous. The snakes I put out are bull snakes.”
It didn’t escape, Lydia—or, it seemed, anyone else in the store—that there was now a plural usage of the word snake. Almost hesitantly, she said, “Mr. Schrock, if the bull snakes don’t eat guinea pigs, then what are they going to do with them?”
“Scare them, of course.”
“Scare? If the guinea pigs get scared, what’s supposed to happen then?”
As if to illustrate his point, the whole gathering heard a frantic squeak mere seconds before a flying orange fur ball came shooting out from underneath a shelf.
It paused, looking around a bit. But, just when everyone tried to either catch it or move out of the way, the most gigantic thick black snake slithered out into the open.
The pig froze in terror.
So did Lydia. A sick feeling coursed through her as she realized that it was very likely she was about to witness the circle of life—or whatever it was called when snakes ate guinea pigs—right before her eyes.
Lydia couldn’t help it. She screamed.
With the commotion, the snake got scared, too, and quick as a whip, it slithered into hiding again.
And the guinea pig squeaked and ran for safety.
Walker groaned.
“We’re all good now, everyone,” Mr. Schrock announced with complete false joviality. “Get on to your shopping. Don’t let these wayward critters bother you none. The Lord honors all creatures great and small, to be sure.”
But the warning came too late. Pretty much everyone was tripping over each other to get out of the store.
“Hold on, Mary King,” Mr. Schrock said. “I thought you came for dry goods.”
“I’m going to get them somewhere else today,” she said.
“But—”
Holding on to the door handle, she glared. “Oh, don’t ‘but’ me, Aaron Schrock. When you rid this place of your creatures, let me know. I’m used to your fool stunts, but this is even worse than the bats you had last year for the flies.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “We didn’t have nare a fly in here after those bats arrived.”
Her chin lifted. “I got bat dung on my dress. Do you have any idea how awful that was to scrub out?”
His cheeks pinkened. “Actually, I do. My wife wouldn’t wash my shirt.”
Lydia bit her lip to keep from laughing but laughter was surely inevitable. She dearly enjoyed shopping at Schrock’s; there was always something interesting to find on the shelves. But Mary King Yoder was exactly right. Snakes on the loose had to be the last straw.
After a glance Walker’s way, she hurried out the door.
And then, to her pleasure, Walker joined her. “Come on,” he said with a smile as he reached for her hand. “Mr. Schrock said I could take my break early.”
“This early?”
He laughed. “With the way things are going in there, I think he’s glad I didn’t quit! Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ve got some time.”
Only when they walked a few feet did she realize that her hand was still nestled comfortably in his . . . and that more than one person seemed to have noted it.
Chapter 20
“Perry used to walk through our fields in the evening. We didn’t care for it much, but he weren’t the only one to trespass.”
HENRY MILLER
Instead of letting the attention they were getting bother them, Lydia and Walker kept walking. And walking. Little by little, the commotion of the store gave way to the smaller noises of nature. Under their feet, pavement turned into gravel, then finally just a packed dirt trail.
Cars and buggies and noise faded to sights of trees and bushes, and vibrant green vines. The only noise she heard was the sound of footsteps.
“I never get tired of walking around here,” Walker said.
“I haven’t been on this trail in ages.”
“Why not?”
“Too much to do, I guess.” But even as she said it, she knew her words were lies. Walking on the trail by herself was scary, and it made her think about how lonely she had been without Perry. It had been hard to break up with him, hard to stay away from him when it meant giving up on all the dreams she’d had. Especially when no one understood why she’d broken up with him in the first place.
“If you’re too busy to take a walk, I think you’re way too busy,” he said with a smile.
They were still holding hands, which was a fairly new experience. Perry hadn’t been much of a hand-holder—not that any of the Amish were.
She didn’t know any courting couple who would wander around Crittenden County hand in hand.
So why was she doing it?
“Thanks for coming to visit. Did you have any trouble getting out of work?” Walker asked.
His question brought her back to reality. “No. I, um, have been telling my parents that I needed some time to myself.”
“Do they know we’ve spent some time together?”
“They know.”
“And?” He glanced her way. “What do they think?”
“Truth?”
“Of course.”
“They aren’t very pleased. They think I’ve lost my mind, I’m afraid,” she finally admitted. “But I
haven’t lost it. I mean, at least, not yet.”
Walker couldn’t help it, he smiled. Everything about her made him smile. “I didn’t think you had,” he murmured. Then, without his brain being aware of it, he stopped walking and turned so they were facing each other. Once again, he was struck by how pretty she was. The light brown hair framing her face looked shiny and smooth. Her blue eyes seemed to instantly reflect what she was feeling.
He half waited for her to shy away from him. To step back, to fumble with words. To tell him that they should do something else.
Instead, she surprised him.
“Did you bring me out here to kiss me, Walker Anderson?”
“Maybe,” he quipped. Though he hadn’t. “What if I did? Are you shocked?”
“I have just stood in the midst of a pair of wild guinea pigs and a hungry bull snake and survived! I’m not a woman who is easily shocked.”
Her words were teasing, of course. He almost smiled.
Then the rest of his brain told him to stop wasting the opportunity. He dropped her hand. Stepped in closer. “I didn’t bring you out here to kiss you, Lydia. But now that you mention it, I think it’s a great idea.”
Her blue eyes flashed . . . but not in fear, in amusement. “I—I didn’t mention it.”
“You did. You asked. I heard.”
Her eyes widened. Her lips parted slightly in invitation.
And so there was only one thing to do. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. Then, finding no argument, he kissed her again, finally wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her close.
So close that it felt like their clothes melded together and their bodies were almost meshed. To his surprise, Lydia wasn’t the least bit hesitant. Within seconds, her hands were around his neck and she pressed closer.
He parted his lips, half waiting for her to pull away. She didn’t.
Finally, when he realized that his hands were starting to roam, he knew things had to end.
Abruptly, he lifted his head.
Lydia, looking flustered, stepped away.
“You okay?” he asked.
She stared back at him, her lips were still parted. But there was no fear or regret or pain in her expression.
No, instead, she looked more beautiful than ever.
And right then, right there, he knew that she’d been what he’d been missing all his life.
Especially when she nodded.
Shame we picked today to tromp around in the Millers’ field,” Mose said over his shoulder. “We’re going to look like we’ve been mud wrestling, don’tcha think?”
Luke stumbled as his buddy’s words hit him like the back end of a piece of plywood. “Mose, since when have you been thinking about mud wrestling? And do I even want to know the answer?”
“Oh, Luke. Stop being such a prude. I was flipping the channels on the television the other day and came across a mud wrestling event that was taking place before the start of a monster car rally.”
“Oh, brother. I’m sure you did. And I guess you decided to stay on that channel and watch it?”
“It was mighty entertaining. Even some women got into the act.”
Luke stumbled, splashing more mud against his leg. “Mose, really?”
“Oh, come now. It was all in fun. And it’s not like I’m fixing to go find a woman to wrestle with.”
“I hope not.”
Mose grinned. “I’m just making conversation. Where do you think they get the mud from?” He picked up a coated boot. “Maybe from here.” He whistled low. “You know, now that I think about it, we could have our own mud rally here . . .”
He was now officially shocked. “I can’t believe you’re saying this.”
With a somewhat evil grin over his shoulder, Mose laughed. “Are you sure you’ve been patrolling the evil, dark streets of Cincinnati? Because at times I wonder if you really went to Mayberry.”
“I’ve been in Cincy. And news flash, nobody mud wrestles there.”
“They might do less bad things if they had more fun, eh?”
Luke couldn’t help but agree as he tromped on. Earlier that morning, he’d called Mose and told him he’d wanted to take another look at the spot where they’d discovered Perry’s body.
He didn’t have a good reason for the excursion except that he kept running into walls in the investigation and he had the real need for some fresh air and the company of the one person in Crittenden County who wasn’t going to lie to him.
“Well, here we are,” Mose announced a few minutes later. First pointing to a row of wood and stones, he said, “This is where Abby Anderson and her girlfriends were sitting. Then, the story goes that Abby went running after her backpack and found it pretty much resting on top of poor Perry’s body.”
Only Mose could describe it like that.
“What did they touch?”
“Not Perry, for sure!” Mose exclaimed, once again giving into his penchant for dark humor. “When we got here, the backpack was still resting on the brambles that surrounded the body.” He scratched his head, then stepped forward. “As much as I could tell, the girls didn’t get much farther than right here. They got close enough to understand what they found, then backed right up.”
Visualizing the scene, imagining the girls he’d known back in high school, Luke nodded. “I don’t know any girl who wouldn’t have done the same.”
“Me neither.”
Luke walked to the edge of the well and peered down. Looking for clues, though he knew the search would most likely be futile. “Who went down the shaft?” he finally asked.
“The medical examiner and two rookies, I think.” Mose grimaced. “Gathering Perry’s body was no easy task, I tell you.”
Though he’d seen plenty of death, his stomach still clenched. “No, I mean afterward. Who went down and collected samples? Was it you?”
“Um, actually . . . I don’t know if anyone went down the well.”
Luke turned to his friend sharply. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I messed up,” he said after a moment. “We were in such a hurry to get the body up, well, I guess we didn’t investigate any further once the body got loaded to the ambulance.” He paused again. “It’s no excuse, but it’s just me here, you know? It’s just me and other things happened and I forgot.”
It was obvious that Mose’s information had been hard to admit. But Luke was starting to realize just how much pressure and stress would result from living the life of a small-town country sheriff. There was little support and precious few resources.
Mose shook his head. “What’s happened to me? Have I gotten stupid?”
“No.” But just the same, Luke didn’t offer any support. If no one had returned to hunt for evidence around the site of the body, then a serious oversight had been made and the responsibility rested firmly on Mose’s shoulders. “You got a camera in your car?”
“Yep. I’ll go get it. Then, I’ll climb on in and collect evidence.”
Luke didn’t volunteer to take his place. He knew Mose needed to do the hard work in order to feel better about his mistakes, plus with his bum knee . . . “And I’ll take notes.”
What wasn’t said was that in all likelihood, anything that they did find was likely unusable for evidence. Too much time had passed. A good defense attorney could argue that anyone could have tampered with the area. After all, crime scene tape seemed to only keep people out in the movies.
Moments later, Mose came loping up with a new expression of determination on his face. Still not meeting his eye, the man handed Luke a notebook, took off his ball cap, hung the camera around his neck, and put on a head lamp. Finally, he knelt by the entrance of the dry well.
Luke wasn’t sure if Mose was drawing strength or praying. Maybe he was doing a little bit of both. “You okay with doing this?” he asked after a minute.
“More than okay.” Raising his chin, he at last looked Luke in the eye. “But that said, if I get
stuck in here, don’t you hesitate to pull me out.”
Luke patted his bum leg. “I’ll do my best to get help.”
Mose’s answer was tossing his keys Luke’s way. “You might need these after all.”
And then, with the agility of a teen, he began his descent.
This time, it was Luke who was the one who closed his eyes and prayed.
Chapter 21
“I never thought Perry and Lydia made all that great of a couple. No one in our circle of friends did.”
WALKER ANDERSON
Still holding her hands, still feeling her soft breath against his skin, Walker spoke. “I need to get back to work. We’ve been out here way too long.”
When Lydia half flinched, he knew he’d made a major mistake. She might have been Amish, but she acted like any other girl he knew. He had to be careful of his words in case they were taken the wrong way.
As they headed back to the store, she lagged behind him. As they continued, he bit his lip and wished he could do over the last twenty minutes. If he could, he wouldn’t have taken her into the woods in front of half the town. He sure wouldn’t have kissed her.
And if he had kissed her, well, the first thing he would have said afterward wouldn’t have been that he had to get back to work.
Once they were out from the privacy of the wooded trail and the store was back in sight, Lydia quickened her step and returned to his side.
And that was when he realized she wasn’t asking questions about when they were going to see each other again. She wasn’t like some girls, girls so eager to push him into a relationship he wasn’t ready for.
Which, perversely, made him want to start talking about anything besides that kiss. Clearing his throat, he said, “What’s new with you and your parents? Are they still wanting you to forget that you’re adopted?”
“I think so. But, they have told me the name of the home, and let me look up the contact information. I’m ready for some answers.”
“What do you think you’ll find out?”
She shrugged. “I’ve already discovered that everyone involved at the Sweet Angels Home signs forms granting something called an ‘open adoption’. I found that information in their ad in the phone book.”
Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One Page 16
