Suspendered Sentence (An Amish Mystery Book 4)

by Laura Bradford

  There was no disputing the surge of excitement she felt at the image of spending a few hours outside with Jakob. The fact that he came up with the idea made it even better. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be right out.”

  * * *

  She climbed onto the wooden sled and nestled her back into Jakob’s chest, the long snow-covered hill in front of them making her giggle in anticipation.

  “You ready?” He tucked his arms around her waist and his legs around hers and inched the sled forward. “We’re gonna go quick.”

  “Let’s go!”

  With a quick lurch of their bodies, they sped down the hill, the winter air lapping at their cheeks. The more she squealed with delight, the more he laughed and the more he leaned forward, increasing their speed until they toppled off into a heap at the bottom.

  “That was so so so much fun,” she said between breaths. “I can’t remember the last time I was on a sled.”

  He sat up and extended his hand in order to help her do the same. “Me, neither. But I can say, with absolute certainty, that it’s been entirely too long.”

  She squeezed his hand but remained sprawled out in the snow, its wet chill beginning to seep through her jeans to her skin. “I think it’s been even longer since I made a snow angel.” Stretching her arms and legs wide, she began to scissor them back and forth, the answering spray of snow chilling her even more.

  “You should see your face right now,” he murmured. “You’re glowing.”

  “What I want to see is my angel.” Bringing her legs and arms to a stop, she sat up and reached for Jakob’s hand. When she was safely on her feet, she turned to examine her handiwork. “Hmmm . . . Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

  Her breath hitched in surprise as he draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her against his side, his warm breath atop her head paling against the feel of his lips on her hair. “Thank you for coming out with me today. I needed this time with you.”

  Snaking her arm around his lower back, she matched his squeeze with one of her own, the happiness she felt at that moment nearly overwhelming. “Thank you for asking. I can’t think of the last time I felt this—this alive.”

  He turned to face her, his gloved hands rising to her wet and cold cheeks. “I know you’ve been hurt in the past, Claire. I know it’s going to take you a while to trust your heart again. But when you do, I’ll be here . . . waiting. And praying.”

  “Praying?” she parroted. “For what?”

  “That when you are finally ready to trust your heart, you’ll trust it with me.”

  She blinked back the tears that threatened to turn into mini icicles against her skin, and buried her face in his chest, the answering feel of his strong embrace warming her from the outside in. “I’m getting there, Jakob. Faster than you realize.”

  For several minutes, they simply stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, surrounded by the beauty of the day. When they were ready, they stepped apart.

  “Well, should we give it another whirl?” he asked as he retrieved the sled from the ground and tucked it under his left arm. “Maybe see if we can go even faster this time?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 11

  She placed the serving tray on the coffee table and handed the first of two mugs to the wide-eyed man seated on the sofa beside her.

  “Too much whipped cream?” she asked quietly before retrieving the second mug and pulling it close. “Aunt Diane is always scolding me for how much I put on her hot chocolate, too. But it’s a habit, I guess.”

  “No, no, it’s not that. It’s the whole thing—the whipped cream, the peppermint stick, the chocolate chips on top.” Jakob cocked his head and smiled. “I guess I’m used to making it for myself. Only when I do it, I rip open the powder, dump it in the mug, and add water. That’s it. This feels . . . I don’t know . . . sweet, I guess. Like you.”

  Not quite sure how to respond, she took a sip instead, the steaming-hot liquid a perfect tonic for the chill that had come to roost the moment they walked into the inn and removed their soaking-wet outer layers. “I wish I’d had my camera out there. I’d have loved to get a picture of you next to your snowman.”

  “I was thinking the same thing when you struck that pose next to yours.” He captured a line of runaway cream on the side of his mug with his finger and inserted it into his mouth. “But I don’t think that’s an image I’ll be forgetting anytime soon, so I’m good.”

  She took another, longer sip and then bent her legs at the knees and pulled her calves up onto the couch. “I love this room in the evening. It’s almost magical.”

  He grinned as he took in the room, too. “I feel it, too. Thanks for inviting me back here after our snow day. Sorry if I made you late for dinner with the guests.”

  “You didn’t. Diane gave me the night off. If we get hungry later, I’m pretty sure I can rustle up some really good leftovers from whatever was on the menu.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He raised his mug to her and then took his first long sip. “For now, though, this is enough.”

  She looked down at her own drink and then back up at him. “I talked to Miriam yesterday after work. Or, rather, I tried to talk to Miriam after work.”

  “Stoltzfus?”

  “Yes. Ben was heading out there to bring a few more supplies to Jeremiah and I tagged along.” Tightening her hands around her mug, she revisited the previous day in her thoughts, Ben’s anguish hard to forget. “I feel sorry for him. He’s really struggling with this new information about Elizabeth.”

  At Jakob’s silence, she shivered and held her mug closer. “I imagine you’re struggling with many of the same things on account of how you felt about her, too.” She hated the pensive quality to her words but it was too late to correct.

  “My feelings for Elizabeth were a long time ago. A lifetime, actually. Back then I was a different person. My world was confined to a few streets inside Heavenly. Elizabeth was someone I grew up with, someone who went from a little girl to a young woman at about the same time I was changing, too. I was drawn to her quiet nature. At times, I have to wonder if one of the reasons I was drawn to her was because Benjamin was, too, and I was determined to have someone see me before him.”

  Her heart ached for the pain in Jakob’s voice and the reference to the yardstick his own father had used to measure the two boys—a tool that consistently had Jakob coming up short. She cast about for something to say but he continued before she settled on the right words.

  “It’s not that way with you. I felt something the first moment I laid eyes on you in the lobby of the police department. You were so beautiful, standing there with that bag of goodies you brought by to welcome me to town. Or back to town, as Diane surely told you at the time.” He leaned forward, set his mug on the tray, and sat back, his gaze mingling with hers. “But since then, I’ve often wondered if you have feelings for Ben. Feelings that are preventing you from really seeing me the way I wish you would.”

  Nibbling her lower lip, she took a moment to compose her thoughts and words. When she was ready, she addressed the elephant that had frequented their space for far too long. “If I said I wasn’t drawn to Ben those first few months I owned the shop, I’d be lying. But I’ve come to realize that what drew me to him was his gentle nature. From a distance, he seems so stoic, so rigid, but he’s not. There’s a depth of thought and feeling there that spoke to my curiosity. And, in doing so, he became my friend. But we’re from two different worlds and it’s meant to be that way. I like the window Ben and Eli and Esther give me into their world, but I love my world for me—the world I have here in Heavenly with Diane, and the shop, and . . . you.”

  Pulling her left hand from atop her right on the mug, she reached out, gently touched the side of the detective’s cheek, and smiled. “I see you, Jakob. I really do. And trust me, I like what I see.”

  He captured her hand with his and moved it to his lips. “You have no idea how glad I am to h
ear that.”

  “Probably as glad as I am to finally say it out loud to someone other than my pillow.”

  “Your pillow?” he said from behind her hand before lowering it to his lap and holding it tight. “And? What did it say?”

  “To stop being a chicken and admit my feelings.” She closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the feel of his thumb as it caressed the back side of her hand. “I guess I feel more vulnerable saying it out loud. Like I’m putting my heart out there to be broken even worse than before.”

  “Even worse?”

  She met his questioning gaze head-on. “With my ex-husband, I think I was trying so hard to be what he wanted me to be that I was able to protect the real me on some level. But with you, it’s all me—the me that likes taking walks and riding on sleds and building snowmen. I’m showing you who I really am and it scares me, a little.”

  “It shouldn’t. Because I adore everything about you.” He cleared his throat, released his hold on her hand, and reached for his mug. “Even the excessive whipped cream.”

  It felt good to laugh, to relieve some of the intensity in the room with a little lighthearted fun. “That’s good, considering there’s a lot more where that came from.”

  He swirled the remaining liquid around in his mug and then took a long sip. When he was done, he swung his focus toward the fire crackling in the hearth. “Miriam say anything of interest?”

  “No. We spoke for a moment or two and when the conversation turned to the discovery of Sadie’s body, she ended it by pretending her son called for her.”

  “Pretending?”

  “Uh-huh.” She plucked the peppermint stick from her drink and sucked off the last of the whipped cream, her thoughts traveling back to Miriam’s kitchen. “She just wanted me out of her house.”

  “I remember when Miriam went on Rumspringa. I’d see her sneaking out of her window sometimes at night. Headed to the covered bridge on Route 50, no doubt.”

  “Why would she go there?”

  “That’s where the local English kids congregated to drink and smoke when I was growing up. And, from time to time, they were joined by a few Amish kids on Rumspringa.”

  “And Miriam was one of them?”

  He nodded. “I never could understand why Elizabeth and Sadie followed her around the way they did.”

  She considered everything she was hearing and posed the first question that came to mind. “Do you think they drank and smoked, too?”

  “I imagine they tried it, if nothing else. It’s one of the things I often blamed Elizabeth’s mood swings on when she made the decision to pursue baptism. That she regretted some of the experimentation she may have done. Now, I know it was something more.”

  “You’ll figure it out, Jakob. I know you will.”

  He studied her closely. “If she murdered Sadie, it’s going to shake Ben to the core. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “I don’t look forward to doing that, I really don’t.”

  She rested her hand atop his and squeezed it gently. “I know you don’t. And neither do I. Ben is my friend.”

  He looked up at the ceiling and released a frustrated breath. “I’m quite sure Miriam isn’t going to be all too excited about talking to me, either.”

  “Any chance Leroy Beiler will be any easier to talk to?”

  “I guess it depends on what he’s known all these years and what he’s kept secret from members of his own community—including his father-in-law, Bishop Hershberger.”

  She thought back to her conversation with her aunt the previous morning about the third and final person mentioned in Elizabeth’s journal. “I can only imagine how unexcited—”

  Teeing his hands in the air, he lowered his gaze back to hers. “You know what? Another workday will come soon enough for both of us. How about we shelve this conversation until then and just enjoy the rest of the evening talking about happy stuff.”

  She heard her stomach rumble and let it guide her words. “Happy stuff? You mean like cookies to go with a refill of our drinks?”

  “Yeah. Sure. That works.” He placed his mug onto the tray and laughed. “Unless you’ve got something even happier to share.”

  “Wait!” She dropped her legs to the ground and clapped her hands. “I’ve got the happiest news ever, actually.”

  His left eyebrow arched. “You already shared that.”

  She drew back, confused. “I did?”

  “Yeah, earlier . . . when you told me you have feelings for me, too. It doesn’t get much happier than that.”

  Pleased, she smiled and allowed herself a moment to catch her breath. When she was ready, she continued, the excitement and awe she felt over Esther’s news infusing its way into her voice. “How about finding out you’re going to have a great-niece or -nephew in about six months?”

  He bolted upright on the couch. “A great-niece or—wait! Are you telling me that Esther is pregnant?”

  Taking his hands in hers, she held them tightly, grateful for the courage she’d finally mustered to admit her feelings to the kindest, sweetest man she’d ever met. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  “When did you find out?”

  “Friday night. When I had dinner with her and Eli in their home.”

  “How is she? Is she feeling okay? Is Eli excited?”

  She rose to her feet and pulled him to a stand, too. Then, placing her hands alongside his face, she let her feelings for him shine through in her smile. “She is feeling good so far and she and Eli are very, very excited.”

  “Aww, Claire, this is great news. Wonderful news. Thank you for telling me.”

  “How could I not?” she asked as she leaned forward and planted a kiss on his chin. “Especially when Esther specifically asked me to share the good news with you.”

  Chapter 12

  Claire stepped off the curb and studied the front window display with what she hoped was an objective eye. All morning long she’d agonized over the right combination of items to both lure customers into her shop and herald spring’s impending arrival despite the pile of plowed snow that lined both sides of Lighted Way.

  Martha’s latest hand-painted milk can instantly drew one’s eye to the right with its focal scene of hillside wildflowers basking in the sun. Beside it, but slightly elevated thanks to the inch-high riser she’d placed under the cover, was the hand-stitched gardening tool bag Esther’s younger sister, Hannah, had made. Closer to the center of the window sat Eli’s newest high chair, each spindle leg hand-carved with careful precision. To the left of that were the Amish dolls Claire was hard-pressed to keep on the shelf—their presence in every seasonal window display a must. They were, of course, still faceless, but the latest cropping of hand-sewn dolls boasted lighter-colored dresses beneath the traditional black aprons. Pastel-colored hair ribbons and baby bibs strategically placed above and below the dolls would make it impossible for grandmotherly types to pass Heavenly Treasures without going inside to shop.

  “It looks perfect, Claire.”

  She smiled at the familiar voice and turned to greet her friend with a quick embrace. “Esther! What a nice surprise!” Then, pointing to the basket in the young woman’s arm, she stepped back. “Do you have new items for me?”

  “Yah.”

  Claire took one last look at the window and then guided her friend onto the sidewalk and into the shop. “I hosted the Lighted Way business owners’ meeting here this morning and there’s still some coffee and juice left if you’d like something to drink.”

  “I am not thirsty.”

  “I have donuts, too. Maybe even a sliver of cinnamon breakfast cake if you’d like? Ruth brought the donuts so you know those are good. And I got up at five this morning to make the breakfast cake.”

  Esther crossed the shop to the counter and swapped her basket for Claire’s clipboard of daily tasks. “Did you do some of these things yesterday?”

  “I didn’t come in yesterday. Dian
e said Lighted Way would be deserted with the snow, and from what Howard and Al said at the meeting this morning, she was right.”

  Looking down at the clipboard once again, Esther shook her head slowly. “It is just eleven o’clock. You have already had the meeting, set up your new window display, and taken down last week’s sale prices?”

  “I’m getting ready to set up this week’s sales now.”

  “Have there been no customers today?”

  “We’ve had customers. Some even made purchases,” she said before curiosity over her friend’s questions won out. “Why?”

  “It is too much for you to work here alone.” Esther unwrapped her black shawl, folded it neatly in fourths, and then held it to her lap as she claimed one of the two cushioned stools behind the register. “I have worked here. I know.”

  Claire grabbed a dry-erase marker from the cup of pens and consulted her sale list for the coming week, her thoughts ricocheting between the stack of signs she needed to make and Esther. “Esther, you and I both know there were plenty of times when you opened or closed by yourself. And when you were doing the one, I was doing the other. We managed those shifts alone just fine . . . although they were never as much fun as the ones we worked together.”

  “But we did not take care of customers and make window displays alone. When we had such jobs as these”—Esther ran her finger down the side of Claire’s task list—“we worked together. Now, you do all of this alone.”

  Glancing up from the stack of blank signs, she made a face at her friend. “That’s because you had to go and marry the dashing Eli Miller . . .”

  A hint of crimson rose up in Esther’s cheeks just before disappearing behind a shy hand. “That does not mean you must work alone each day. You cannot open and close each day by yourself. It is a long day.”

  “Ruth does it,” Claire reminded her, not unkindly.

  “Ruth has Eli and Benjamin to look after her. And she does not open on Sunday . . . or on some Tuesdays and Thursdays during wedding season.”