by Alison Stone
“Okay, what’s up first?”
She spun around and found Zach standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.
“Let me change, and then let’s order a pizza for the three of us.”
“Will they actually deliver way out here?”
Heather twisted her lips. “Oh, good point.” She crossed the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, one of the few Englisch concessions to make running an “authentic” Amish bed-and-breakfast easier on her. Sure, she could have run a generator to all her kitchen appliances, but instead she had the contractor run electricity from the grid, definitely an Amish no-no, but her guests probably wouldn’t think much of it. “I hadn’t gone shopping yet, either. The few things Ruthie brought in the other day have rotted.” For some reason, embarrassment heated her cheeks. Even after all these years, her response was instinctual. Brian would have yelled at her, called her an idiot, demanded his dinner. Now!
As her emotions welled and crested on a wave of panic, she reminded herself that the man standing a few feet away was not Brian. She swallowed back her emotions, closed the fridge door and turned to smile at him. “Any suggestions?”
“Absolutely. Let’s go grocery shopping. I make a mean lasagna.”
Zach laughed, apparently tickled by the surprise that must have registered in her eyes. “Don’t you believe me?”
She held up her palms. “I have no reason not to. You’ve yet to disappoint me.”
“I have no plans to.”
Their eyes locked and lingered for a moment longer than was comfortable. Heather hadn’t allowed herself to trust her feelings to another man after the havoc Brian wreaked on her life.
“Well—” Her voice cracked. “Give me ten minutes.” She bent over and unlaced her muddy Amish boots and tossed them in the corner near the back door. Maybe she’d leave them there as part of the Amish decor. As she ran up the stairs of her new home, a sense of hope—real hope—for the future coursed through her.
* * *
Zach and Heather dropped Ruthie off to visit a friend while they went grocery shopping. It seemed Ruthie was excited to have a little freedom of her own. Her friend promised to hitch up her horse and bring Ruthie home sometime after dinner.
At the grocery store, Heather strolled ahead of Zach. She had a lightness he’d never seen in her before. Up to this point, all of their contact—from the first time he met her at Jill’s trial—had always been during stressful times. Now he sensed she was finally allowing herself to believe she was safe. He just hoped she was.
Next to the stand of bananas near the entryway, she spun around. “I’m not much of a cook, but I’m not sure this little store carries everything you’ll need.”
Zach leaned over and grabbed a shopping basket. “I’m sure we’ll find everything we need.”
They strolled companionably through the grocery store, picking up lettuce, tomatoes, noodles, sauce, cheese. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he had all the ingredients for dinner in the basket.
Once they had purchased the groceries and arrived back home, he unloaded them onto the counter.
“Tell me what I can do,” Heather said. “I may not know how to cook, but I can follow directions.”
“Is that why you hired Ruthie? To cook?”
“In part. But mostly, I knew I couldn’t run the bed-and-breakfast all on my own.” The look in her eyes suggested something more.
Heather looked away and rubbed the back of her neck. “Ruthie is going to stay here when I have guests. We’ve fixed up a cute little room for her upstairs. I’ll pay her extra. I offered her room and board full-time, but I see now why she turned me down. Maryann and Emma still need her help at home.”
“Yet the family needs the extra income.”
Heather nodded her agreement.
Zach stopped breaking up the ground beef simmering in the pan on the stove and pointed toward the back door. “I’m going to make arrangements to have an alarm system installed.”
Heather scratched her earlobe. “I can’t afford that. I’ve spent everything I have on the remodel.”
He watched her nervously tuck a strand of hair behind her ear while she pretended to be busy lining up the jar of sauce, ricotta cheese, and salt and pepper that he’d be needing shortly for the lasagna. His heart ached for her and he found himself drawn to her remarkable spirit.
“I’d like to install the alarm for you. A gift.” He chopped up the ground beef with the edge of the spatula.
“Do you think I really need it?” Her soft tone sounded from just behind him.
He didn’t turn around to answer. “I work in law enforcement. I’ve seen a lot of bad things in my career. You’re out here in the middle of nowhere.” He turned around, holding the spatula. A plop of ground beef hit the floor. They both squatted at the same time and bumped knees.
Heather laughed nervously and stood back up. “Here, let me get that.” She tore a piece of paper towel from the roll, and from his crouched position he reached for the towel and she handed it to him. He wiped up the mess, straightened and tossed it in the garbage can.
Heather had gone pale as if a realization had washed over her. “You don’t think Brian’s dead, do you?”
He touched her arm. “I know I shot him. But it doesn’t make any sense that they haven’t found his body. However, even when we do have Fox back in custody or find out he’s dead, it’s not a smart idea for a young woman to live alone in a big house out in the country. You won’t always have the benefit of houseguests.” He pointed to the stairs. “We’ll have a control panel installed in your bedroom.”
She frowned at him as uncertainty flashed in her eyes.
“You’re inviting strangers into your home. You need to take precautions.”
A long-ago memory came to mind. His sister, Jill, had called him, panicked, frightened. She was afraid of her husband. By the time Jill met him at the door of her meticulously maintained home in the safe suburbs of Buffalo, she had changed her mind. Told her big brother that it was all a misunderstanding. Brian stood next to his baby sister, a smile on his face, his arm draped over her shoulders.
His possession.
Zach’s gut roiled at the memory.
Nothing he’d said had convinced his sister to open up to him. To tell him what was really going on. To leave Fox. That day, Jill stood in the doorway with a fake smile on her face.
If only he had...
He shook his head, trying to dispel the horrible memory.
Heather slipped in beside him and stirred the beef that was spattering on the stove.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He covered her soft hand with his, taking the spatula from her. “Some cook I turned out to be.”
Standing close, she smiled up at him. “If you think it’s important that I get an alarm system, we’ll do it. But I insist on paying you back.” She searched his face.
“I do think it’s important.”
Heather gave him a quick nod. “I don’t want you to stay here out of some misplaced sense of obligation.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not responsible for your sister’s death.”
Zach stopped stirring the beef on the stove. How had she read his mind?
“Brian is—was—a very convincing man,” Heather said, her voice low. “He was charming. He persuaded me to stay more than once. Your sister was a beautiful, smart woman—” her words made the back of his throat ache “—and she was no more at fault for what happened to her than you were. Trust me, I’ve had my own share of guilt about your sister. What could I have done to prevent it? But I remind myself constantly that Brian is the only responsible party.” She reached out and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb across his jaw. He stood frozen, not wanting to feel too much. “You don’t need to stay. I’ll be okay.” A soft hitch caught in her throat, as if
she wasn’t sure she believed her own words.
Zach took her hand and kissed the inside of her palm. “Do you want me to leave?”
She lowered her gaze, then lifted it again to meet his. “No, I don’t want you to leave.”
The tension eased out of his shoulders.
She reclaimed her hand and fisted it to her chest. “Not until we have proof Brian’s dead.”
EIGHT
Heather enjoyed the meal she and Zach—well, mostly Zach—had prepared. It was her first dinner in her mammy’s remodeled home. And it felt wonderful.
The sun lowered in the sky as they chatted over a frozen cake from Pepperidge Farm—apparently Zach drew the line at baking. She stood up from the new table and turned on the kerosene lamps, which created a soft glow. She sat back down next to Zach, not eager for the evening to be over.
“When are your first guests scheduled to arrive?”
“Next weekend.” She moved the crumbs of the cake around on her plate. “Barring any cancellations. My plan is to only book rooms for the weekend.”
“Well, hopefully this other issue will be resolved.”
Heather studied the palm of her hand. “I haven’t watched any of the news coverage regarding the escape. I hope mention of an ongoing search for an escaped convict in Quail Hollow won’t be bad for business.”
Zach wiped his mouth with a napkin, then set it down, neatly running his fingers over the edge, creating a sharp fold.
“If I knew you better, I might think you were stalling,” she said, trying to read his expression.
He drew in a deep breath. His dirty-blond hair looked darker in the heavy shadows. His eyes were hard to read. “The news mentioned that the search for Fox has focused on Quail Hollow because of you.”
Heather’s pulse whooshed in her ears as Zach’s words seemed to be coming from miles away. “They mentioned me by name?” Of course they had. Hers was a juicy story. She swallowed hard. “Anything else?” She found herself holding her breath. “Did they mention my mother’s murder?”
“Yes.”
“How... Why?” But she knew why. Her mother’s murder had been the only murder in the Amish community and now the next big story to hit the quiet town a generation later had a direct link: her. She groaned. “I wonder if this is going to ruin business.” She snapped her gaze to him and laughed, rolling her eyes. “No, no, it’ll be great for business. Like how people like to take tours of morbid things, like Lizzie Borden’s house or...” She dragged her hand through her hair. “Not that my mother died here. But her body...” She let the words trail off, not wanting to talk about it. Her mother’s body had been found in the barn out back. Her barn. Another part of her past that she’d eventually have to face.
Zach covered her hand with his. “A news truck was out in front of your house a few days ago, but Deputy Gates chased it away. I don’t think they gave him much of a fight because you weren’t here. There’s only so much coverage we can give to an empty house.”
“But now that I’m back?”
“If they come back, we’ll deal with it then. The truck’s in the barn, so that should buy us more time.”
“I suppose you’re right. Why borrow trouble?” Heather leaned her shoulder against his. He shifted and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You saw the news coverage. What are they saying?”
She settled into his embrace and tuned into his comforting stroke on her arm. “It’s not important.”
Her eyes slowly closed. “I suppose you’re right. It’s not going to change anything.” She suddenly bolted upright. His arm fell away from her and she angled her head to study him. “Did they put a photo of me on the news?”
“Heather...”
She recognized a stall when she heard it. “Tell me. Did they?”
“They ran coverage from when you testified. So yes.”
She stood, suddenly very exhausted. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have asked. I was really hoping to live in anonymity. I guess that was too much to ask.” Gathering the dishes, she carried them into the kitchen and over to the sink, wishing she could crawl into bed and sleep. Forget about her troubles for a few hours.
“Look on the bright side,” Zach said, bringing a few more dishes over. “At least the Amish don’t watch TV.”
She narrowed her gaze at him skeptically. “I have a feeling news like this will make its way around Quail Hollow, TV or not. Ruthie seems to know things from town before I do.” She shrugged as she filled up half the sink with hot soapy water. “This is where I need to rely on my faith. Trust God that things will work out.”
He gently touched the small of her back. “Trust God and take precautions.” She didn’t miss the cynicism in his tone.
“I’ll let the dishes soak and clean up in the morning. It’s early yet, but I’m tired.” Maybe relaxing with a book would settle her nerves. She leaned forward and brushed a kiss across his cheek. “Good night, Zach. Thank you for everything.” She took a step back. “You should find anything you need in the guest bathroom. If that fails, just give me a holler.”
He nodded. “Night, Heather.”
A current of electricity ran between them. He was here doing a job and then he’d be gone. Did she dare trust her heart to him only to be hurt again? Like Brian had hurt her.
Zach was nothing like Brian.
But how did she really know? How did anyone?
When she first met Brian, she would have never pegged him for the man he turned out to be.
Dismissing her swirling thoughts, she spun around and ran up the stairs. She slipped into her bedroom and shut the door and turned the dead bolt. She’d sleep better with the lock in place even with Zach downstairs.
Heather flopped down on the chaise lounge, her mind still racing. She hadn’t had affectionate feelings toward a man since... She traced the stitching on the arm of the chair and drew in a deep breath. She could still smell the subtle scent of his aftershave. Feel the solidness of his arm around her.
She grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the chair and pulled it over her. Maybe she was confusing her feelings of security and protection for something more.
Something she thought she’d never have again.
She forgot about the book she planned to read and started to doze. She snapped to attention at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Groggy from sleep, she stumbled toward the door, yet managed to keep her bare feet silent on the cold hardwood floor. Her fingers faltered at the knob to the dead bolt.
Mouth growing dry, she opened the door a fraction, relieved to see Ruthie passing in the hallway. “Good night,” she whispered.
“Good night.” The shadow of Ruthie’s hand lifted in a quick wave. “See you in the morning.”
Closing her door, Heather turned the bolt, relieved to know she was no longer alone.
* * *
The slant of sun cut across the edge of her bed, startling Heather awake. She bolted up, then stretched across and grabbed her cell phone to check the time.
After eight!
Throwing back the covers, she got cleaned up and dressed for the day and ran downstairs, both refreshed and embarrassed. She never slept this late and she still had a list of things to do. A week had passed since Heather had returned to the bed-and-breakfast with Zach and Ruthie in tow. The house had been abuzz with activity: Sloppy Sam and his crew finishing odd projects, Ruthie making lists and Zach helping out wherever he could. Everything seemed to be coming together.
And still no sign of Brian.
When Heather reached the kitchen, she found coffee already made in the coffeemaker—another one of her Englisch cheats—but no sign of Zach.
Unable to resist, she poured herself a cup, then sipped it while staring out the window over the yard. In just over twenty-four hours her first guests would be arriving. That was when she saw moveme
nt by the barn. Squinting, she noticed that it was Zach. He had found a wheelbarrow and a pitchfork and was hard at work.
“What are you doing, U.S. Marshal Zachary Walker?” she muttered to the empty kitchen, reminding herself that he was here because of his job. But even at that, he worked harder than one of Sloppy Sam’s crew members. Zach knew the ins and outs of home repair. However, the longer he stayed, the harder it was to remind herself that he was here on business. Thankfully, Ruthie’s presence kept Heather’s emotions in check.
All of them had a job to do. Period.
Carefully holding her coffee so it wouldn’t slosh out of the mug, Heather slipped her feet into her black Wellies and stepped outside. The sun beat down on the gorgeous fall day. She drew in a deep breath and some of the stress of the recent events washed off her.
She stood on the back stoop, sipping her coffee, hoping to get Zach’s attention. After a few moments, he set aside the pitchfork and grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow and pushed it out into the sun and directly toward her.
He stopped and set the wheelbarrow down and smiled. “Sleep well?”
“I did.”
He squinted up at her and lifted a hand to tent his eyes. “I thought I’d put some hay down here so the guests wouldn’t have to slop through the mud.”
Heather smiled. “Good idea.”
“What are your plans for the barn? It looks like it could use some TLC.”
Heather’s gaze drifted to the barn and her pulse automatically spiked. She had never stepped foot in the barn, nor did she have immediate plans to.
“Is something wrong?” The tone of Zach’s voice suggested he had to repeat the question. Had he?
“Um...” She scratched the crown of her head and set her mug down on the top rail of the small porch. “I guess I never thought about it much.” That’s a lie. The barn hunkered on the property like a beast ready to get up and strike.
“If I patched up the roof, it would prevent more rain damage. I’m sure tourists would love to go into a barn and explore, but in its current condition, it’s a little dangerous.”
