The Search

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “I am happy to see you, too.” Pausing with his back brushing the curtains, he looked her over with frank appreciation. “I do like your smile, Frannie. You must be doing better.”

  “Some, but not much. The doktah is making me stay another day.”

  “That is a shame. But if the doctor says you must stay here, then I suppose you should. He is in charge.”

  That was Micah. Nothing if not practical.

  To her surprise, he walked closer and sat right down without being asked. And then, to her further surprise, he reached for her hand despite the bandages—and clasped it gently between his own. Immediately, she felt his warmth.

  “What is going on?” She didn’t mind his hand-holding. Not really. It was just that it was terribly unlike him to show affection.

  “Nothing. I decided to take some time off and spend it here with you.”

  Uncertainty threaded through her. First the hand-holding, now he’d taken time off from the farm? In all the years she’d known him, he’d never willingly done either. “I’m grateful that you stopped by,” she said cautiously.

  Why was he here? Why was he really here? She was sure it wasn’t just to spend time with her. No, he seemed like a man on a mission.

  Which made her mighty uncomfortable.

  “You should be grateful. I had a lot of other chores that I had to push aside in order to pay you a call today.”

  She should be grateful? Carefully, she looked for any sign that he might be joking. But no, he was perfectly serious.

  Now she was no longer uncomfortable. Not the slightest bit nervous, either.

  She was now angry.

  “I’ve also been waiting for you to notice me. To notice how serious my regard for you is,” he added, holding her hand tighter. Sounding vaguely disapproving.

  She glanced his way. Surely he really was joking?

  If he’d shown her any attention, it was because she had asked for it. He’d never offered anything on his own.

  She looked at his hand, holding hers. Suddenly, he’d taken a keen interest in her and her attention.

  With a wince, she realized he was gripping it so tightly she could feel the slick moisture of his palm.

  Studying the set of his strong jaw, Frannie realized he was nervous. Whatever had brought him here had made him uneasy.

  In a blink, she turned nervous again.

  “I’ve always been grateful for your friendship,” she said. “What is wrong, Micah? Why are you acting so strangely?”

  “Friendship?” His brows rose under the black brim of his hat. “I think you know that there’s more than that between us. Quite a bit more.”

  Was there? At one time she’d hoped that was the case. But since all that had happened with Perry, and her reaction to Luke, she began to realize that Micah was just . . . convenient. But perhaps he had viewed their disjointed relationship far differently? “More?”

  “Our relationship is not like the one you have with the detective,” he said tightly.

  “Luke?”

  He nodded with a jerk of his head.

  Ah. Now she understood. This visit was about Luke. Micah obviously hadn’t taken her friendship with the Englischer in stride.

  “Indeed, you are right. It isn’t,” she said, unsure what else to say. She didn’t want to talk about Luke with Micah. Didn’t want to explore feelings she shouldn’t have. Didn’t want to think about a future that was impossible.

  Her reality was sitting by her bedside. She needed to remember that.

  After a final, gentle squeeze, Micah released her hand and braced both his palms on his knees. Then leaned forward and spoke. “I did something important. I talked to my mother about us, Frannie.”

  “You did?” She swallowed hard. She had never particularly cared for Micah’s mother. She was a bossy woman who rarely wanted to listen to Frannie’s opinions. “And what did you say?”

  “I told her that I intend for us to marry soon.”

  “You told her what?” Oh, surely he was not intending to propose marriage to her here, after all?

  And if he was going to, what would she say?

  Her earlier conversation with her roommate played through her head. Frannie needed time to think about all this. Micah’s sudden, smothering attention. His intentions.

  This was not the right time. Or place. But how could she possibly tell him so, especially with the earnest look he wore? After all, it was the man who took charge of things like this.

  “It is time I set things in motion, don’tcha think? I believe a small wedding would be best.”

  Or . . . perhaps he didn’t feel the need to propose at all? Was he simply assuming her answer would be a yes and the formality wasn’t necessary?

  Oh!

  If she hadn’t been stuck in the hospital bed, tethered by tubes and electronic cords, she would have kicked him out.

  Suspiciously aware of how thin that curtain was between her and her roommate, she sputtered a reply. “Micah, I’m not altogether sure we should be discussing this now.”

  “Why not? Mamm said talking to you in the hospital is as good a spot as any.” He grinned. Then winked! “Here, you can’t run away.”

  Oh, but this was terrible. Terrible and awkward, too. She had to stop him. Somehow. Some way.

  She lowered her voice. “We don’t have much privacy here.”

  He puffed up his chest. “We don’t need much privacy. I mean, I do not. There is nothing on my mind that would embarrass me if it became known.”

  Who was this . . . this eager man sitting by her bedside? It was as if someone had taken the Micah she’d always known and put this man in his place. “Micah, I’m glad you want to talk about our relationship but I’d rather not discuss it here. Perhaps when I get back home?” That is, if she ever got back home . . .

  She had a sickening feeling that the only reason he was here was because he’d heard of Luke’s visit. Because Micah felt that Frannie’s attention might have strayed. Even worse, she suspected he cared little about Frannie’s feelings, that he simply didn’t want the embarrassment of an Englischer stealing her away. Not after she’d shown so much interest in Perry as well.

  Her temper rose. The right thing to do would probably be to admit that there was nothing going on between her and Luke, and there never would be.

  But as she stared at him, at his sudden eagerness, all she could do was bite her lip and listen.

  “I disagree.” Softening his tone, he continued. “So, Frannie, you are ready for us to move forward, yes? Because you cannot expect me to always wait quietly by while you make up your mind.”

  Her hands fisted around the hospital sheet. “I’ve been running my inn, not sitting by the door, thinking of ways to make you wait.” The truth was, she had been waiting to feel something more for him. To feel able to overlook his flaws and their differences . . . and feel certain that they could have a happy life together.

  However, now was the not the time to point out any of that. She was too angry and would surely say something she might regret. “Perry died, don’t you forget. That has been hard.”

  “Only to people who will miss him,” he said piously.

  Though in her opinion, he wasn’t saying anything particularly Christian at all. “Micah, I am starting to get a headache. It might be best if you come back later.”

  “Truly?” He looked perplexed, as if he’d expected her to leap out of the hospital bed and jump for joy that he’d finally, finally decided to talk about their future.

  She cleared her throat and patted his hand. “It is time you left.”

  “I see.” He stood up.

  “Thank you for stopping by.” She managed a smile.

  Right before her eyes, he suddenly became a completely different man. His soft edges became hard, his almost guileless expression turne
d sharp.

  “You may have gotten your way in the past, and you may get your way right now, but I won’t be pushed away when you are my frau, Frannie. When you are my wife, I will be in charge of the household.”

  After treating her to one more frightful look—one that validated her earlier nervousness—he tipped his head, turned, and shoved the curtains aside.

  As he walked away, he didn’t look back.

  Frannie closed her eyes. Before, she’d yearned for him to have more of a backbone. She’d always looked forward to her husband being in charge of their family.

  But this conversation with Micah made her reconsider all of that.

  When at last she heard the door close, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  And then heard a cackle next door to her. “You better watch that one, Missy,” the voice in the bed next to hers called out. “He’s got secrets that aren’t all good. You mark my words about that.”

  With a sense of doom, Frannie found herself agreeing. There was definitely much more to Micah than she’d ever imagined.

  Much more than she’d ever guessed.

  “I used to really like him,” she said.

  “Come, now. Did you really? He seems a little whiney to me. Were you that desperate for a man?”

  Had she been? “Nee,” she said softly, and knew the truth of her words. “I’ve been desperate for love,” she murmured, half to herself.

  It was why she’d been swayed by Perry’s attentions.

  It was why she’d kept things open and undecided so long with Micah.

  The woman tsked. “Aren’t we all, child. Aren’t we all. But my advice is to keep on looking. That boy isn’t the one for you.”

  Frannie rolled onto her side and looked out the window at the darkening sky . . . desperately doing her best to push both her doubts and the sudden image of Luke’s face from her mind.

  She dozed for a while, and when she awoke, it was dark and all was blessedly quiet. As she lay there, adjusting her eye to the light, she realized Luke’s image had been completely banished during her nap.

  But it had been replaced with the memory of Micah’s determined expression . . . and Perry’s laughing scorn.

  She realized then that she was more nervous about the future than ever before.

  It was too bad that she didn’t know why.

  Chapter 11

  “When Perry was twelve, he broke his collarbone jumping out of a hayloft on a dare. I could be wrong, but I do believe that’s the last time he was seen by the doctor. Until he died, of course.”

  SHERIFF MOSE KRAMER

  Beth, dear, you don’t look too well.”

  Leave it to her mother to be brutally honest. That was okay, though. Beth loved her mother’s honesty. “As a matter of fact, I’m not feeling too well. My legs are sore, my shoulders have knots in them, and I’m so, so tired. Being an innkeeper is not for me, Mamm.”

  “Poor Beth. Perhaps we should find you some help. Who do you think could lend you a hand at Frannie’s inn?”

  “There is no one else. I would never betray my promise to Frannie by passing on this job.”

  “Do you want me to come help you?”

  “No, Mamm. I want you to stay here and take care of yourself.” Her mother had been diagnosed with MS years ago. For most of her life, it had lain dormant, with only minor flare-ups. But lately, she’d been showing more and more signs of being tired and having blurry vision.

  Beth alternated between pretending that nothing was wrong and trying to convince her beautiful mother to do less.

  “I’m feeling pretty good this week.”

  “Then we should celebrate that instead of making you work harder. I’ll be fine. I just miss being around the kinner, that’s all.”

  “I’m glad you enjoy babysitting, but you need to have some kinner of your own one day.” What went unsaid was that she wanted Beth to be happily married with a home and family before her health got worse.

  But even thinking about that day made her sad. How had this conversation gone from innkeeping to her lack of children? “You know there’s no one special in my life.”

  “There could be if you would be more open-minded. Beth, you should give the men in our community another chance.”

  This was a common bit of advice that her mother brought up with surprising regularity. “Love doesn’t work that way. I have to feel something special for the man in my life.”

  “How do you know if you will, if you don’t give any one a chance?”

  “I will, one day. In its own time, Mamm. Don’t push.”

  Immediately, her sweet-tempered mother backed off. “I’m sorry. It’s just that looking around again worked for Frannie. One day she and Perry decided they wanted to be closer.” Beth knew her mother had found Frannie and Perry’s brief relationship a great matter of interest. It didn’t seem to matter to her that Perry had turned out to be a terrifically bad person to fall in love with.

  “I’ll find the right man for me one day, Mamm. And in the meantime, I have a gut job helping to take care of other people’s children. They need help and I enjoy getting paid for something that I’m good at.”

  “You’re right, of course. I just can’t help but wonder . . .” Her mother stopped herself with a sad look in her eyes and changed the subject. Looking her over, she added, “So, how many guests are at the Yellow Bird Inn right now?”

  “There were three, but now we’re down to just one.”

  “Only one? Well, perhaps that won’t be too hard.” Leaning forward, her mother’s face lit up. “Now, you know how much I enjoy hearing about your days. Where is the guest from? Is she nice?”

  “Oh, it’s not a woman, it’s a man. An Englischer.” She smiled softly, because just thinking about him made her tingly.

  The expectant look faded. “The guest is a man? Dear, is it safe for you to be alone with him?”

  “Very safe. He’s a nice man.” She paused, then divulged her secret, just because she knew it would make her mother smile. “He’s mighty handsome, too.”

  “Oh.” She paused. “Oh?”

  “He has light blue eyes, the color of the winter sky. And somewhat shaggy blond hair that is the color of wheat.”

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Winter sky eyes? Wheat-colored hair? He sounds mighty nature-like. And you two have talked?”

  “Oh, jah. We’ve talked a bit. He’s come to the kitchen while I’ve been cooking.”

  Her mother’s lips curved into a wry smile. “Visiting you in the kitchen, hmm? He must be a mighty brave man.”

  “Ha, ha.” Sobering, she said, “I am having a fearful time cooking. But I’m doing my best.”

  “That’s all anyone can ask for, Beth.” Clucking her tongue a bit, she turned the conversation back to the man. “There’s nothing wrong with looking at a handsome man. Or even chatting with him from time to time. But don’t get your head turned. You need to find a man interested in sharing your life with you . . . not taking you away from everything you know and love.”

  “I hear you, Mother.”

  “Now, you promise there isn’t anything I can help you with there?”

  “No, Mamm. You need to stay home. I hate to think of you worrying yourself on my account.”

  “Oh, I’m glad for the excuse to leave the house. Besides, worrying about daughters is what mothers do. One day you’ll realize that. If, you know, you ever find yourself a man. An Amish man. Who lives here. That is the man for you.”

  “Yes, Mamm. I hear you.”

  And she certainly did hear her. And she agreed with everything her mother said, too. Finding a man who was Amish who wanted to live nearby and have a household of children sounded like a good plan.

  It just wasn’t that easy to do. Especially since no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about Ch
ris.

  Frannie had barely recovered from Micah’s visit when Sheriff Kramer poked his head through the curtain.

  It was somewhat disconcerting to see him peer at her without a word.

  She nodded her head slightly and felt the tug of the bandages around her eye. For a moment there, lost in the haze of the medication, she’d forgotten her injury. “Hello, Sheriff Kramer.”

  The sheriff’s sun-weathered face creased into a smile. “I am glad you are awake. The nurses weren’t sure if you would be up to talking with me.” He looked her over. “Are you?”

  “I can talk with you, for sure.” But even as she said the words, she felt her body fill with dread. Sheriff Kramer had come to the hospital for a reason.

  The sheriff sauntered closer and took the seat next to her bedside. “Did you know you’re frowning? That’s not good. We need to turn your frown upside down, Frannie Eicher.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t feel like smiling much at the moment. Dr. Carlson said I have to stay another day. He feared I would do too much when I got home.” Then, of course, there had been Micah’s disturbing visit. Every time she tried to relax, his words kept replaying in her mind.

  “I can see you being disappointed that you’re not at your inn. You always have been a hard worker.” Making himself comfortable in the chair next to her bed, he kicked his legs out and crossed his ankles. Smiling, he said, “To tell you the truth, I never liked being stuck in hospitals, either.” Looking around her room, he added, “These rooms have always reminded me of old oatmeal, so cold and boring.”

  As usual, the sheriff could outtalk a preacher and charm a rattle from a rattler. On a normal day, Frannie would’ve made a quip right back. Teased him about how he shouldn’t be lurking around hospital rooms, anyway.

  But she wasn’t up for joking.

  And though he was good at making conversation, she knew he wasn’t there just to make her smile.

  “Are you here to discuss the investigation?”

  “Actually, ah, there are some things we need to discuss.”

  “All right.”

  As if she wasn’t lying beside him, struggling to breathe, the sheriff shuffled in the pockets of his jacket for a pen and reading glasses. Then he rummaged around for a small spiral notebook. After slipping on his glasses and flipping through several sheets, he took the cap off his pen and looked at her again.