Rachel's Rescue

by Serena B. Miller

  Guys from the Garaway baseball team were working the tables, while Joe and an experienced short-order cook Darren had enticed were busy filling orders and flipping burgers.

  The place was still a little rough around the edges, but intentionally so. They wanted a restaurant where people could feel at home—and the focus was on the food, not the decor.

  The menu was short, but the food was stellar. They’d made sure the produce was as local as possible. Sugarcreek’s Sweetwater Farm had provided all the vegetables. The condiments had been carefully selected as an organic assortment purchased from the Swiss Village Bulk Foods, which was a short walk from the restaurant. And the baked beans were as addictive as they could possibly get them—not from cans, but from navy beans soaked overnight and then seasoned with real bacon, sugar, and ketchup before baking two hours in the large ovens.

  The eggs the restaurant used were from a local farmer who truly allowed his chickens to range free, which meant the yokes were nearly orange from all the nutrients the chickens ingested, and the chilled egg-infused potato salad was a darker yellow than those made with commercial-type grocery-store eggs. People were already commenting on the extra flavor. Once Joe and Darren perfected the potato-salad recipe, they’d pasted the recipe to the kitchen wall.

  The buns were baked just down the street, so new that a fresh-bread smell permeated the place. There were three different cheeses to choose from for those who wanted a cheeseburger—cheddar, pepper Jack, and Swiss—all from local, award-winning suppliers. It had been no trick to find a local farmer who had grass-fed Angus beef to sell.

  Then there were the three large-screen televisions replaying baseball games from the past—everything from grainy, black-and-white clips of early players to some of Joe’s shutout games. The restaurant would show contemporary games during baseball season.

  * * *

  One of their biggest challenges, as far as Joe could see, was going to be keeping Bobby from sampling too many of the sodas. The different colors were just too tempting, and the child definitely didn’t need any more sugar in him. He was already about as hyper as a little boy could get. Bobby was currently having the time of his life bragging about how he’d helped his uncle and daddy set up “his” new restaurant.

  As Joe flipped burgers over the grill, he could hardly believe the happy sound of diners enjoying conversation and good food. This was his place, with his family helping. He had no idea if he could make a living with this, but if tonight was any indication, they just might.

  During a short lull, he took a moment to go behind the bar, throw one arm over his brother’s shoulder, and give him a one-armed hug.

  “You did good, bro,” he said. “Thank you.”

  The look of gratitude and happiness that Darren gave him was worth all the worry and work they had gone through to make this happen.

  One of the things that Joe was proudest of, the thing that had nearly broken his heart when Darren had insisted on it, was a small sign in the window that said: “If You Are Hungry but Have No Money, You Can Still Eat. Ask to See the Manager. No Questions Asked.”

  “Why?” he’d asked his brother.

  “Because once, when I was hungry and had no money, I saw a restaurant that had this same sign in their window. I went in. They fed me and I never forgot it. That meal and the way the manager treated me made all the difference. I had a bit of good luck after that, and whenever I was back in that city, I would make sure to eat there and leave a big tip to make up for it. I always told myself that if I were ever in the same position, I would do the same.”

  It hurt to think that his brother had gone hungry from lack of money. “I never realized you were that desperate,” Joe had responded quietly.

  “More than once,” Darren had said. “I appreciate the help you gave me through the years, though. It’ll be nice to help you for a change. I’m really enjoying working with you.”

  “Me too, bro.” And Joe meant it. Creating this business together had also created a real relationship with his brother—someone he now realized he’d never known—a man who had lived in his older brother’s shadow for too long while trying to find his own way.

  As the brothers now stood with their arms around each another’s shoulders, just savoring the feel of the moment, Joe’s eyes feasted on the sight of Rachel and Bobby working in this restaurant he and Darren had created. He couldn’t get enough of looking at them or of thanking God over and over that they were safe. He prayed daily that he and Rachel could have more children. Losing the baby had been hard on her. It had been hard on him too. It was not easy to lose a child. Explaining it to Bobby had been heart-wrenching, but the little guy had dealt with it better than expected.

  Joe had learned something this week, the most important lesson of his life. If a man’s family was healthy and safe, he didn’t have any problems. Everything else—absolutely everything—was just window dressing.

  Chapter 65

  Carl wanted good things for Rachel and her family and hoped the restaurant’s opening night would be a success. Darren and Joe had promoted it so heavily that everyone in the area was aware that tonight was the big night.

  So, Carl had showered, shaved, slicked back his thinning hair, and put on his best blue shirt and khaki pants to make this visit. It felt strange not having Shadow with him, but his good dog was past the crisis and on the mend. One of the technicians at the clinic had offered to stay with Shadow while Carl came tonight, and he was grateful. He didn’t want his dog to be alone.

  Now he watched from across the street, periodically hearing laughter and snippets of conversation and wondering if it would all stop when he walked into the room.

  Carl didn’t care if he got a meal; he just wanted an excuse to check on Rachel and make sure she was okay. He knew she’d miscarried the baby after the ambulance had whisked her off. A woman like Rachel would have to be devastated about losing a child. With the childhood he had survived, he was impressed with any mother who would fight to care for her child.

  The little girl in the pink dress who had faced him over her daddy’s body had grown up into a ferociously protective mom. He knew it was a strange connection they had, but Carl felt almost paternal in his pride of her.

  George said he was certain Carl would be welcome at the restaurant tonight, but he wasn’t so sure George was right. To go in or not to go in, that was the question. If he went in, would the roses he’d brought be appropriate? Probably not. After twenty years in prison, how could he know what was appropriate and what wasn’t?

  It was late September, and although the weather was still warm, there was the scent of fall in the air. He rolled down the windows of his truck and sat there, trying to screw up the courage to go in. The place was going to be quite a hit, judging from the people coming and going. Every time the door opened, music and laughter floated out. People were surely having fun in there.

  Carl had a recent fantasy he allowed himself to indulge in every now and then. He would never dare mention it to anyone, but as he sat on the outside of the restaurant looking in, he revisited it.

  In his fantasy, he wasn’t a childless ex-con. Instead, his life had taken an entirely different turn. Instead of killing Frank Troyer, he had married a nice, pretty woman—maybe someone like Peggy—and they were living a respectable life surrounded by friends and family. They had a daughter who was a lot like Rachel, a young woman who was courageous and smart but also compassionate.

  There was a house that sat up on a rise on Main Street in Sugarcreek that he’d always liked. It looked sturdy and strong, and it had a symmetry that appealed to him. Carl imagined living in that house with his wife. It would be a Sunday afternoon. A beautiful day. They were sitting on the front porch, relaxing, and waving at friends as they walked by on the sidewalk. A roast was in the oven, cooking, as they waited for their daughter and her husband and their children to come by for supper.

  He wondered what it would be like to have a son-in-law like Joe to talk baseb
all with after supper. He’d buy one of those large-screen TVs so they could watch games together. Maybe he would have a little grandchild on his knee. He would have to be careful not to yell at the team if he were holding a grandchild. He would never want to scare the child.

  Or maybe he and this make-believe baseball-loving son-in-law could go to a real game sometime. That would really be something.

  None of this was possible, of course. But it was nice to think about.

  Two other people came out of Joe’s Home Plate and the music and laughter drifted out again. The front window was large, and it was easy to watch all the hustle and bustle inside.

  Typical of Carl to be on the outside looking in, while wondering what a normal life would feel like.

  He had talked to Peggy about whether to come tonight. She had strongly urged him to do so. What if they had an opening night and no one showed up? she’d said. They would appreciate him making the effort. Take flowers, she’d said. What was the worst that could happen?

  Carl had stopped at the florist’s to purchase the flowers. He glanced at the bouquet of red roses now lying on the seat beside him. He’d heard that red roses were important to people.

  Peggy was usually right about things. He trusted her judgment. But as he sat there trying to make himself get out of the truck and go in, he simply couldn’t do it. Especially not carrying a dozen red roses. What sort of a fool would he look like? It wasn’t as though he were a family friend or anything like that.

  He didn’t expect Rachel to throw him out anymore. Not after they had found Bobby together. What would probably happen from now on was a polite distance. That was okay. It was much better than the way it had been when he was constantly worried that he might run into her.

  Carl heard the escalation of music and laughter again and noticed that someone else had come out. One person. Alone. Instead of walking off to a car, the person sat down on the bench outside the restaurant. It took him a moment, but then he realized that it was Rachel.

  She wrapped her arms around herself as though she were cold, except it was too warm out for her to be cold. Then he noticed that she was rocking back and forth as though troubled. He waited for Joe or someone else to arrive to comfort her, but those inside must not have known she’d slipped out.

  He screwed up his courage, got out of the truck, and approached her.

  “Carl,” she said, and she smiled at him.

  She smiled not just with her mouth, but also with her eyes. Instead of her Sugarcreek Police uniform, she was wearing an oversized baseball jersey. She looked so much smaller without the uniform.

  “Is there anything I can do for you, Rachel?”

  “How is your dog?” she asked.

  “Doc Peggy had to fight hard to save his life, but Shadow is going to be fine.”

  “That was really something, when he went after Junior. You’re a really good dog trainer.”

  “Shadow is a really smart dog.” He hesitated a moment. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

  She had been sitting in the center of the bench. Now she scooted over to make room for him.

  “Whatever happened to the kidnappers?” Carl said. “I haven’t seen anything about it on the news.”

  “Luke and Naomi wanted to try to keep it quiet. So far we’ve been able to, but in the meantime I found out some things about Junior’s motives.”

  “Besides the ransom?”

  “It goes further than that.” She brought her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Ezra’s dad, Luke Yoder, was one of those Amish teenagers who thought the grass was greener on the other side of the fence. There wasn’t much the Englisch world had to offer that he didn’t get into. He and Junior became buddies. That’s how Luke met Junior and Greta’s younger sister. Cynthia liked to party, and Luke was happy to oblige. Sometimes wayward Amish kids scare themselves back into the church, and that’s what happened to Luke. He saw that Cynthia was on a downward spiral and knew he had to get away from her before it was too late.”

  “My guess is that she didn’t appreciate him leaving.”

  “Nope. She was a pretty unstable person. When she couldn’t get him back, she overdosed. No one could determine whether it was deliberate or accidental. In the meantime, Luke had joined the church and was courting Naomi. I was away at the police academy and wasn’t around very much.”

  “But that was several years ago. Why now?”

  “Junior took it hard. He was the one who had introduced his little sister to drugs. He went out west and did everything from working on oil rigs to panhandling. Was in and out of rehab several times too. Finally, he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t the one to blame for his sister’s death—it was the Amish, and Luke in particular.

  “What you probably don’t know is that the local Amish have been getting harassed a lot recently. Fences cut, livestock getting loose, hay bales set on fire, that sort of thing. It was Junior all along. He even tried to poison Sugarcreek’s canine officer, Ranger, that night to keep him from being able to track them. The dog survived, but it was an ugly thing to do. Everything Junior did was working up a head of steam for the big moment when he—to put it in his words—‘made Luke find out what it feels like to lose someone.’ Of course the idea of all that ransom money didn’t hurt either.”

  Carl took a moment to absorb the news. “A man who would kidnap a child and poison a dog…”

  “I know. Not to mention the fact that he was planning on tying me up and leaving me to die. He’s a real peach of a fellow.”

  “What about Greta?”

  “She’ll do time, but not as much as Junior,” Rachel said. “Weird woman. She was a whole lot more concerned about her cat, Baby, having kittens without her than any trauma she and her brother would cause the boys and their families.”

  “Baby?”

  “That’s what she called her cat. Why?”

  “I remember her now. Baby is a patient of Peggy’s. I thought Greta looked familiar.”

  “If you hadn’t picked up on the fact that Ezra was frightened, and if you hadn’t told George about what you had seen, and if you hadn’t been there when I got in trouble…” Rachel choked up. “I owe you my life and the life of my son.”

  “I was glad to help.”

  “Did you hear that I lost the baby?” Rachel said, in a small voice.

  “I did,” he answered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Joe and I chose to have a small funeral, just the three of us, the aunts, and George. It helped a little.”

  Carl chose not to mention that they were not the only ones at that funeral. He and Shadow had also respectfully attended…from a distance.

  “At the hospital, one of the nurses told me that if I had stayed home and in bed that day, I might have been able to save it.”

  “Maybe the nurse was wrong.”

  “Maybe.” There was so much pain in her voice.

  “You had no choice, Rachel. You had no choice but to go save your son and his friend.”

  “True, but it would have been nice if Junior had picked a more convenient time!”

  “What’s with these criminals anyway?” Carl joked.

  “That’s right.” She gave a half laugh then sobered. “Do you know what I kept thinking while we were hunting for Bobby and I thought I might never see him again?”

  “No.”

  “I kept thinking what a terrible mother I had been for not really wanting to play Candy Land with him, when he loved it so.”

  “I’m guessing you’ve played it a lot since you got him back?”

  “Oh, yes. Many times. And I really hate that game.”

  “But you love your son.”

  “I do,” she said.

  Carl thought of the nights when his own mother had locked him out of the house, of not knowing whether he would be alive or dead the next morning. He remembered being hungry and afraid. In his world, a parent not playing Candy Land was pretty unimportant. He considered telling Rachel this but
decided against it.

  Instead, all he said was, “Bobby is lucky to have you for a mom.”

  Rachel’s next comment was unexpected. “Do you like Peggy?”

  “She’s a fine person.”

  “I think she likes you. As in likes you.”

  He was pleased. “Seriously?”

  “She came tonight. She’s all dressed up, and she seems nervous. There’s an extra seat beside her—and she told me she was saving it for you if you came.”

  “I doubt she’d be interested in a broken-down ex-con like me.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. She’s a good person, Carl, and she’s been through a lot. Be kind to her.”

  “I can’t imagine not being kind to her.”

  They sat in silence awhile, each deep in their own thoughts.

  The door opened and Bertha stuck her head out. Carl was surprised to see her wearing a baseball jersey over her Amish dress.

  “Rachel? Are you all right? I could use some help clearing tables.” She squinted. “Who is that you are talking to?”

  “It’s Carl, Aunt Bertha.”

  “Ach,” the old woman said. “Will wonders never cease? But you have talked long enough. You need to come get something to eat, Carl,” she said, “before Joe runs out of food.” And at that, she shut the door.

  “She’s right, you should come in,” Rachel said as she stood.

  “I’d rather go back home,” he said. “It is enough to have gotten a chance to talk with you.”

  “No,” Rachel said, shaking her head. “Doc Peggy has been saving that seat far too long as it is.”

  “I brought flowers for you to celebrate opening night. They’re wilting in the truck. Do you want me to get them, or would you rather I not?”

  “Of course I want the flowers.”

  He brought them to her. One dozen red roses, and they weren’t wilted in the least.