by Nancy Mehl
He snorted. “Noah’s truck? Now how in the world did it get there?” He chuckled like I’d just told him a really funny joke. “The other night when we had dinner, I was going to drive back to town after you’d gone to bed and put it under the door—just like the other one. But when I looked for it in the car, it was gone. It must have fallen out when I got the roses out. I’m guessing your boyfriend found it and stuck it in his truck.”
All I could do was stare at him. Oh, God, how could I have been so foolish? Why didn’t I realize Clay couldn’t be trusted? And how could I have doubted Noah, even for a second?
I suddenly realized something else, although for some reason it was getting harder and harder to think clearly. “So it wasn’t Roger who told you where I was?”
“No. Roger didn’t call me. But I was glad when you jumped to that conclusion. It was a much better explanation than the one I’d cooked up.”
“You had me set up in Kansas City, didn’t you?”
“Yep. I needed to put you in a situation where you’d run to me when I showed up in your life again. When Dave found you in Kansas City, it was easy to call in a few favors. Well, actually I pulled some old skeletons out of several closets. You see, my father had all kinds of people in his back pocket. Luckily, Councilman Webb was one of them. A little pressure, some intimidation thrown in, and he put his girlfriend in at that place you worked. What was the name of it?”
“Harbor . . . Harbor . . .”
“Harbor House. That’s right.” He grinned, but it reminded me of the Cheshire cat from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. “A little creative thinking and poof. Threatening notes. No job. No prospects. Possible imprisonment. And then I sweep in. Your protector. Your knight in shining armor. But before I could accidentally run into you in Kansas City and save the day, you took off for this flea-bitten, one-horse town.”
“And Dave?” My voice was little more than a whisper. What was wrong with me? Why did I feel so strange?
“Dave was on his way to see you when I intercepted him. Lucky break on my part.” Clay shook his head. “He told me you were almost killed in Kansas City when you ran out in front of a car. He felt like the whole thing was his fault. He even called 9-1-1 for you. I guess you threw one of my notes on the ground, and he found it. Read it. Put two and two together. He gave me back my money and quit. Said I was sick and needed to be put away. He was on his way to tell you everything. A little push down the ravine, and old Dave was history.”
He grimaced. “Poor Dave. His problem was that he had a conscience. I sent one of Dad’s minions to his run-down apartment to clean up after me. By the time he was done, there was nothing left to tie us together.” He leaned closer, peering into my face. “All you had to do was leave everything alone, Lizzie. Originally, I’d planned to just get rid of you and take Charity. But the funny thing was, the more time I spent with you, the more I wondered if we might actually have a future together. So I changed my mind and decided to marry you. Take you both back to Seattle. Mother might not have been pleased to have you there, but I was willing to risk her anger for you. Too bad. In my own way, I think I might actually love you.”
“You only love your mother’s money.” I put my head down on the table, cradling it in my arms. “What’s wrong with me, Clay? I . . . I don’t feel well . . .”
“I’m sorry. It’s the sleeping pills I put in your coffee. You must have the constitution of a horse. I’m out after two. You’ve had six.”
I tried to raise my head but couldn’t. “Why?”
Another odd laugh. “I’ve been carrying those pills around since I got here. My original idea was to knock you out and then . . . Well, let’s just say that I had another plan. Good thing I forgot to take them out of my coat pocket. Now it’s not too late to stick to my previous strategy.”
“What . . . what . . .”
“What am I going to do?” He reached over and stroked my hair. “I’m going to leave, Lizzie. But then I’ll remember I left something here. My wallet. My coat. It doesn’t really matter. When I return, I’ll find the kitchen on fire. I can’t get to you, so I run upstairs and save my daughter’s life. After your tragic death, no one will argue that it’s not my right to take Charity home with me. You won’t be able to stop me or tell anyone the truth. My mother will be very happy, and I’ll be back in her good graces. Problem solved.”
Even as I began to lose consciousness, I realized how dangerous his plan was. If he didn’t reach Charity in time, she could die. Using every bit of strength in my body, I tried to get up. I had to save my daughter. But my legs felt like wet noodles, and I felt myself slump to the floor. Just as I drifted away, I heard an odd sound, almost as if it were a faraway echo. Screaming. A loud crash. And then everything went black.
CHAPTER / 25
They kept me in the hospital overnight, but the sleeping pills Clay gave me wore off fairly quickly. Mother let everyone know the restaurant would be closed for a few days, but no one complained. Kingdom residents seemed concerned only about my welfare. So much food was delivered for Charity and me that I could have opened a second restaurant. Even Frances Lapp brought chicken and dumplings and offered to help me in any way she could. The people of Kingdom were incredibly gracious, and although I had some residual weariness, I felt better every day.
By Saturday morning, I woke up feeling like my old self. I sent Mother home, thanking her for taking care of us. I made the decision to reopen the restaurant on Monday and put a hand-drawn sign on the door. Charity drew a picture of us waving at the bottom of the note. Just the right touch. We spent the remainder of Saturday resting and watching videos. Sleeping Beauty was front and center, of course.
After being treated and released for a rather nasty bump on the head from when Noah hit him with a chair, Clay was booked into jail in Washington. We heard from Sheriff Ford that he would soon be transferred somewhere else, and that the investigation into Dave Parsons’ death would be reopened. Clay’s mother sent a high-powered attorney down from Seattle, and the word was that Clay might be released pending trial.
I didn’t care. I was the only one who could testify against him, so I realized it would be my word against his. Even if no one could prove he killed Dave or tried to kill me, he would never get Charity. According to their lawyer, who actually seemed like a rather nice man, Mildred Troyer had withdrawn her plans to raise my daughter. Seems Clay had his own skeletons, and too much scrutiny directed toward him could bring some embarrassing and very unwelcome attention to the Troyer family. It was safe to say that they were out of our lives for good.
Fortunately, Charity had slept through the whole horrible scene Thursday night. I made certain she didn’t hear that Clay had tried to kill me and take her away. That was something she never needed to know. She didn’t seem the least bit concerned when I told her Clay had gone away and wouldn’t be coming back. That was the last time I planned to ever mention him again.
As it grew dark outside, I went through the food in the refrigerator, settling on a beautiful pot roast that Myra had brought by. I heated it up until the juice bubbled around the tender, browned potatoes, carrots, and onions. Then I put some rolls in the oven to warm up. I heard the front door open and smiled.
“Have a seat. I’ll be right out.” I grabbed a coffee carafe and two cups. My coffee drinking had been cut way down since Clay tried to do away with me, but tonight, the memory of the drug-laced brew seemed far away and unimportant.
“Here, let me get that,” Noah said, when I came walking out. “Just in case you’re thinking about dumping coffee in my lap.”
I laughed and handed him the tray. “I’m doing fine now, really,” I said, smiling. “Funny how long it took to feel like myself again. Remind me to stay away from sleeping pills.”
“Stay away from sleeping pills,” he said softly, leaning over and kissing me softly.
I laughed. “You’re a funny man. You know that?”
“If you say so. I’m just so grateful
you’re okay.”
“Me too. Want to help me carry in our dinner?”
“Well, I guess, since you’re feeding me.”
“Yeah, I worked really hard heating it all up.”
He grinned and followed me to the kitchen. A few minutes later we were seated, a candle burning in the middle of our table. Charity was eating supper at my mother and father’s house.
I smiled at him. “Tell me again why you came by that night.”
“We’ve been over this several times,” he said.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.”
He took a deep breath. “I drove into town to visit with Abner Wittsman and his wife. Abner’s recovering from a bad fall, and the church has been giving them a hand, since he isn’t able to work right now. They needed food and their horse had to be fed. I’d just finished up with them and was getting ready to drive home, when something told me to go to the restaurant.”
“Something told you?”
He shook his head. “Okay, you’re right. Someone told me.”
I stuck a piece of pot roast in my mouth and smiled. “Go on.”
“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.”
“I’m recovering from a traumatic event. Don’t give me a hard time.”
Noah sighed dramatically. “And how long are you planning to use that excuse to get your way?”
I pointed my fork at him. “As long as it takes.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“Go on.”
He shook his finger at me. “Patience, woman. I’m getting there.” He rolled his eyes. “Now where was I . . . ?”
“Someone told you to check on me.”
He nodded. “That’s right. So I drove over here, and when I looked through the window, I saw you falling on the floor while Clay simply watched. It was obvious something was wrong.”
“Maybe it was just a really boring date. You could have really embarrassed yourself, you know.”
“That’s true. Maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted you two.”
I snorted. “Well, if you hadn’t, I’d be cooked more than this pot roast.”
“Not funny.”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway, I checked the door, which of course wasn’t locked, even though I told you a hundred times to lock it.”
“Good thing I don’t listen to everything you say.”
He gave me a dirty look. “It may have worked out this time, but in the future . . .”
“Go on.”
“Quit saying ‘Go on.’”
“Okay. Go on.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Now you’re being funny.”
“Sorry.”
“I burst in, picked up a chair, and conked Clay on the head before he had time to react. And you looked dead, by the way.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that now.”
“Go on.”
His eyes narrowed as he stared at me.
“Sorry.”
“The look on Clay’s face . . .” Noah shivered. “Crazy. I’ve never seen anyone look like that. Hope I never do again.”
“You made him scream like a little girl.”
“Who’s telling this story? You or me?”
“I’m not sure.”
Another look. “I made him scream like a little girl.”
I shook my head. “Inappropriate behavior for a Mennonite elder.”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t really worried about my reputation at that moment. Saving your life, should you not actually be dead, seemed a little more important.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So you knocked the stuffings out of him.”
He frowned. “I’m not sure what stuffings are, but he didn’t move after I hit him.”
“Good thing you didn’t kill him. I might have had to visit you in jail, and I’m a little busy right now.”
“I would have hated to inconvenience you.”
“Thank you. So after you cleaned Clay’s clock?”
“He had a clock?”
“Stop it.”
“Sorry.” He scowled at me. “I’m really hungry. When can we quit talking and eat?”
“Soon. So then what happened?”
Noah leaned back in his chair, his emerald eyes twinkling with amusement. “I looked to see if you were alive. You were, by the way. Then I ran upstairs, checked on Charity, cut the drawstrings off your drapes—”
“I’ll probably have to get new drapes.”
“I don’t care.”
“Go on.”
He sighed deeply. “Came back downstairs, tied Clay up, called for an ambulance and the sheriff, and then waited for them to come. After they carried you both off, I woke Charity up and drove over to your parents’ house to let them know you were on your way to the hospital. They got in my truck, and we all drove to Washington to check on you. End of story.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to eat my dinner in peace.”
“I don’t mind.”
He took several bites, then put his fork down. “So you actually thought I might have killed that detective? Unbelievable.”
“Well, you kept telling me how you were going to take care of me.”
“Notice I didn’t say I would kill for you. Mennonites don’t believe in that, you know.”
I shrugged. “I’m pretty sure they don’t believe in conking people over the head either.”
He sighed again. “Yes, you’re right. Apparently I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“I guess not.”
He shook his head. “I still can’t believe you thought I was a murderer.”
“Well, men in Kingdom confuse me.”
“Obviously.”
“With your declarations of protection and knowing where Mr. Parsons died . . .”
“Because Avery pointed it out to me.”
“And finding the note.”
“Which I found stuck halfway under the bottom stairs outside.”
“Now I know why it took you so long to make it to your truck that night. You were busy retrieving the envelope and tossing it into the backseat of your truck. You know, I wouldn’t have suspected you if you’d just given it to me right after you picked it up.”
He raised one eyebrow and speared a potato. “Sorry. Saving your father’s life seemed a little more important at that moment than completing a mail delivery.” Noah put his fork down with a little force. “Seriously, Lizzie. You really thought I’d killed someone?”
I stared down at my plate. “No, not really. Maybe just for a minute. To be honest, I was so confused about everything. I couldn’t trust Sheriff Ford’s conclusion that Mr. Parsons’ death was an unfortunate mishap. It was obvious he didn’t want to mess with the KBI and would do just about anything to agree with the coroner. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around the coincidence that he had just accidentally fallen down that ravine right after my mother told the elders about him. I knew in my heart something was terribly wrong with that scenario.
“When I saw that note, I guess my mind tried to put the pieces of this weird puzzle together in a way that would make sense out of everything. It didn’t take long for me to clearly see you couldn’t have done it. I mean, I know you, Noah. I really do.” I smiled. “And then I found the call from Meghan. Once the pressure from the situation at Harbor House was gone, I could see everything more clearly. I not only knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you weren’t capable of hurting anyone, I also knew exactly what I wanted more than anything in the world. And where I belonged. A part of me never left Kingdom, you know. It just took me a while to realize it. ”
“Even though Meghan told you Sylvia was offering you a job at almost twice what you had been making?”
I nodded. “Didn’t tempt me even a little bit. I’m just glad my name was cleared at Harbor House. I hated thinking that my reput
ation had been ruined. Of course, Meghan and Sylvia never doubted me. And I finally got to thank Sylvia for everything she’s done for me. That meant more than I can say.”
Noah raised his coffee cup. “I think a toast is in order.”
I laughed. “Good Mennonite boys aren’t supposed to toast stuff. Are they?”
His eyes grew moist. “When they’re getting ready to marry the most wonderful woman in the world, all the rules become meaningless.”
“Oh, I see.” I raised my cup and touched it lightly to his.
“To the future God has for us.”
“And to God for bringing me home. He knew exactly where I was supposed to be. I’m so grateful He never gave up on me even though I gave up on Him.”
Noah nodded and took a sip from his cup while I did the same. “As an elder’s wife, you do plan to wear an appropriate dress on Sundays, right?”
“I’ll think about it, but I’m not sure about a prayer covering. Black’s not really my color.”
“But you’ll think about that too, right?”
“I will.”
He sighed. “My life is going to get very interesting. Isn’t it?”
I grinned. “Count on it.” I suddenly remembered something important. “Wait a minute. I have something for you.” I got up, hurried into the kitchen, and grabbed a folded piece of paper lying on top of Charity’s small table. I took it back to the table.
“What’s this?” he asked as I handed it to him.
“It’s from Charity. She drew it just for you.”
Noah carefully opened it. A prince stood in the middle of the picture, a large-rimmed black hat on his head, topped by a yellow crown. She’d dictated the caption that I’d written at the bottom. Prince Noah Phillip. Mama’s prince and my new daddy.
“Oh my,” he said softly, his eyes growing moist. “I’m certainly not a prince.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said, reaching for his hand. “You’re definitely my prince. As my daughter said the first time she met you, we’ve been waiting for you such a long, long time.”
“When I left the restaurant that night, I prayed God would allow me to be your Prince Charming.”
I wiped away a tear of happiness that slid down my face. “Boy, when He answers prayers, He does a good job. You will always be my prince, you know.”
