Shunned and Dangerous (An Amish Mystery)

by Bradford, Laura

  “You are.” She saw his gaze harden just before his hand cupped the part of her face that still ached from Rita’s hit. “I hate that you didn’t call me and tell me where you were going. If you had, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  She felt the burning prick of too many tears than she could afford to cry and blinked them away. “What matters is that Patrick called you and that you got there in time before she got away.”

  The pad of his thumb glided across her cheek with a gentleness that left her wanting more despite the discomfort his touch caused. “It still hurts, doesn’t it?”

  At her shrug, he retracted his hand and waved it in the direction of her office. “Diane told me you were here, but when I asked why, she said she didn’t know. Is everything okay?”

  More than anything in the world she wanted to tell him things were fine—exceptional, in fact. But she couldn’t.

  Nor could she keep him in the dark any longer.

  Something had shifted between them the past few weeks, something that hinted at the possibility of a future together. Allowing him to believe in such a possibility when it simply couldn’t happen wasn’t right.

  She knew this. She really did. But did it matter if she told him now or ten minutes from now? Deciding it didn’t, she allowed herself one final moment or two of happiness before she delved back into a reality that was far bleaker than she’d even realized.

  “Can you come sit with me for a little while?”

  “That’s what I was hoping for when I showed up at your door just now,” he said, his dimples on full display. “But wouldn’t you rather get out of here? Maybe stop at Heavenly Brews for a treat or go for a long walk? It’s a gorgeous night. There are tons of stars and just enough of a chill to make it so you’d think I was being a gentleman when I put my arm around you.”

  “That’s because you are a gentleman,” she said.

  “I am, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’d take just about any chance I could to hold you close.”

  There was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to take that walk, to feel the increased beat of her heart when his arm came around her shoulder as they set out in whatever direction they chose. But that would only delay the inevitable.

  She glanced at the floor and then back up at Jakob, the sparkle of hope in his eyes making it difficult to breathe. “Could we just talk here for a while, instead? I . . . I still have a little work to do before I can call it a night.”

  He hesitated a beat before the agreement eventually came via a slow, easy nod. “I had no idea that owning a gift shop meant so many late nights.”

  Determined to enjoy at least a few minutes together, she led the way past her office and into the main room, flipping on an occasional light as they passed. When they reached the counter area, she pulled out the pair of stools she kept behind the register area and patted Jakob over. “Have you spoken to Patrick today by any chance?”

  “No. Why? Is he okay?”

  She waited until he’d gotten settled then sat beside him with what she hoped was a genuine smile. She wanted to relish this time together, wanted to savor it as the gift it was. “He’s having a hard time, of course. How could he not when his own mother robbed him of the best thing that had happened to him in years, if not his entire life?”

  “Yeah, I feel bad for the guy. He’s got to be feeling pretty directionless right now.” Jakob shifted in his seat to afford a better view of Claire.

  “I’m sure he is, and I’m sure he’ll feel like that for quite some time. But today he got a little bit of a nudge from someone very special.” She allowed herself to drift back through the quieter parts of her day as she took a much-needed break to recover from the trauma of Saturday night and the official questioning that had followed the next morning. Patrick’s arrival, just before lunch, had netted the kind of poignant moment she knew she’d carry in her heart for years to come.

  “What happened?”

  “Aunt Diane gave him the box Harley made for him.”

  “The toolbox?” Jakob clarified.

  She felt the smile spread across her mouth at the memory she was all too happy to share with Jakob. “Actually, it wasn’t a toolbox. It was a painter’s box.”

  Before Jakob could respond, she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Harley knew that hammers and nails weren’t really Patrick’s thing. But he did notice an interest in painting. So he made Patrick a box and filled it with paintbrushes of all shapes and sizes. And at the bottom of it all was a note, telling Patrick he could be anything he wanted if he worked at it and tried his best.”

  Jakob closed his eyes in time with a deep breath. “Harley said that same thing to me sixteen years ago when I stopped by his farm and told him I wanted to help find the man who killed his brother. And I’ve carried those words and that validation around with me ever since.”

  She let Jakob take her hand in his and hold it close. “I suspect Patrick will carry those words and that validation with him through his life, as well. He needs that. From someone.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him, Claire. I promise.”

  Coming from anyone else, she’d put the likelihood of such a promise being kept at about ten percent. But with Jakob, she knew it would be a hundred percent. That’s the way Jakob was. It was the path he’d chosen and a path he understood in a way few others ever could. “I know you will,” she whispered.

  “We can both look in on him . . . together.”

  The moment had come. It was time to tell him the truth.

  She looked down at Jakob’s hand entwined around hers and willed the warmth and understanding she felt there to stay with her until she was done with what she needed to say. “No. We can’t. Because I won’t be here beyond the end of January, middle of February at most.”

  His grip loosened only to tighten around her once again. “Come on, Claire, that’s not funny.”

  She swallowed. “I know. I’m not trying to be funny, I’m just trying to be honest . . . with myself and with you.”

  This time, his grip not only loosened, he let go of her hand completely. “What are you talking about? Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know yet. Someplace where I can get some sort of a job that will allow me to keep a roof over my head and food on my plate.”

  “You have that,” he reminded. “You have this shop and your aunt . . .”

  “In about ten weeks, I won’t have the shop any longer, and I won’t live off my aunt no matter how hard she’s going to try and convince me otherwise. That’s not the life I want.”

  He looked around at the shop and the dwindling merchandise on the shelves around them. “I don’t understand. Why are you giving up on the shop? You told me that very first day we met that this place was a dream come true for you. What’s changed?”

  “My finances.” She slipped off the stool and wandered across the shop, stopping midway to turn and face him once again. “I thought I had enough socked aside to stay current on the rent and other expenses, but I was wrong. I just don’t have enough big-ticket items to sell to really make a go at this.”

  He met her gaze and held it tight, the hurt and surprise in his eyes impossible to miss. “No. I’m not going to let this happen. You belong in Heavenly. Everyone here loves you. Esther, Eli, Ruth, my sister, your aunt, me . . .” He leapt to his feet and came to stand beside her, his hands finding hers once again. “We’re going to fix this. You wait and see.”

  More than anything she wanted to jump on his bandwagon with all his best intentions and heartfelt words, but she couldn’t. Her shop and its financial burden were her cross to bear, not Jakob’s. “No. I won’t take money from you and I won’t take it from Aunt Diane. This was my dream to realize—on my own. I fell short, Jakob. It’s time to move on.”

  “Maybe there’s another way, Claire. But we’re not going to find it if you’re so quick to give up and walk away.”

  “But that’s just it. It hasn’t been quick. I’ve known this
was coming for a while now. I just chose not to see it.”

  Again, he let go of her hands then raked his own through his hair in frustration. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “Because I didn’t want to admit it out loud. Especially to you.”

  He dragged his hands down his face, stopping midway to peer at her across his fingertips. “Especially to me? Why?”

  “I guess I allowed myself to get caught up in a possibility I had never really envisioned for myself until just recently.” She heard the tears in her voice, knew it was only a matter of minutes before they made their way down her face.

  “Possibility? What possibility?”

  She made herself breathe as she willed the tears to stay at bay just a little longer. The last thing she wanted was for her heartbreak to result in some sort of pity-driven response. That, she couldn’t handle. Especially not from Jakob.

  When she was virtually certain she could speak, she answered his question as simply and honestly as she could. “The possibility of a second chance.”

  At his questioning eyes, she filled in the rest of the sentence, her voice breaking on the final word. “At love.”

  Footsteps in the back room brought them both up short, and they turned in time to see Eli, Benjamin, and Al Gussman step into the room, their hands folded neatly in front of them. “Claire. Jakob.”

  She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes in an effort to rid them of the tears she felt slipping past her best efforts. “Is—is everything alright?” she finally asked when she was sure she could trust her voice.

  “Well, we were kind of hoping you might be able to tell us that,” her landlord said, stepping forward. “Benjamin, here, told us what’s going on and we’re here to help.”

  She turned an accusing eye in Benjamin’s direction. “Benjamin, you told me you wouldn’t say anything.”

  “You told him?” Jakob questioned.

  “A few days ago, yes.” She kept her eyes on Benjamin even as she addressed Jakob. “It was either that or explode.” Then, bringing her verbal focus in line with her gaze, she dressed Benjamin down in a way she never had before. “You gave me your word. How could you go back on that?”

  “You asked that I not tell Esther. I did not tell her. I told only Eli . . . and Mr. Gussman.”

  Al stepped between Benjamin and Claire waving his hands in the air as he did. “If Benjamin hadn’t told me what was going on over here, I wouldn’t have known where to put the money.”

  “What money?” she asked.

  “The money that showed up in the mailbox of the general store this morning with a note saying only to use it to pay the rent of a needy business owner this coming year.”

  She staggered against Jakob and was grateful for the strength she found there. “You can’t be serious . . .”

  “I can and I am.”

  “But . . . but where did it come from?”

  “I don’t know. The note didn’t say.”

  This time, when she looked at Benjamin, the anger was gone, in its place the kind of gratitude that was nearly impossible to express. “Benjamin, I can’t accept that kind of money from you.”

  “It is not from me.”

  “But who else knew?”

  “One of your wishing stars, perhaps?” Benjamin’s suspenders pulled taut against his chest as his shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. She felt Jakob studying her, knew he was watching to see if there was something more than friendship between her and Benjamin. But there wasn’t. The friendship they shared was more than enough.

  Eli took a step forward. “I have something to show you, Claire. It is in the alley.”

  Shifting her focus from one Miller brother to the other, she fell into step behind her best friend’s fiancé. When they reached the back door, Jakob held it open and waited to follow until everyone was outside.

  “I will soon have a family of my own. I must support them the best way I can. I hope you will help me do that.” Eli stepped around the back of the shop and gestured for Claire and the others to follow. What she found there made her gasp.

  “Eli . . . it’s beautiful.”

  “I made this for Esther. It is for her to keep blankets, or dresses, or anything else she sees fit.”

  She ran her hand along the beveled edges of the handcrafted wooden trunk, the exquisite workmanship that went into the piece obvious. “I had no idea you could make things like this.”

  “I would like to make more. For you to sell in the shop. Benjamin said they will bring good money for you and for me.”

  It was no longer possible to hold the tears at bay. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, everything had changed. And it was all because of the people standing around her at that very moment—people who’d come into her life at a low point and given her hope for a brighter and more fulfilling future. It was almost too good to be true . . .

  “Are you going to stop farming when you and Esther get married?”

  “No. I will do both.”

  “But what happens if you and Esther have to move in order to find land? Trunks like this would be much too big to ship.”

  “I can put trunks in my buggy. Or you can pick them up and visit with Esther when you do.”

  “But—”

  Jakob’s breath warmed her ear as he moved his lips close. “That’s what I wanted to tell you earlier—the excuse I was using to track you down here.”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “You don’t need an excuse to see me, Jakob. Not now, not ever.”

  “Then I guess I’ll just tell you. Esther and Eli are staying right here in Heavenly.”

  She felt the tears as they ran down her cheeks, unchecked. “Staying?” she repeated in a choked whisper. “Are you sure?”

  “Yah. I am sure.”

  “But how?” She turned her attention toward a smiling Eli. “I didn’t know there was any land around here for you to farm.”

  “I will farm Harley’s old land and make it my own.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but closed it as Jakob draped an arm across her shoulders and whispered a kiss across her temple. “So if your shop can get a second chance, maybe you can get yours, too?”