by Perry, Marta
The smoke was choking her. Coughing, blinking away tears, groping forward an endless time until her feet hit something that moved. She dropped to her knees, fighting to see.
Trey’s chair had tipped over. He squirmed, struggling with the ropes around his wrists, trying to get free, coughing and choking. She grabbed his hands, yanking at the rope, feeling it give. In an instant it fell away.
“Go.” Trey gave her a push. “I’m all right.”
She didn’t argue, just grabbed his arm and pulled with all her might. Trey lurched to his feet. He tried to push her away. She pulled his arm across her shoulder, put her arm around him. Through the flames she could see the oblong of daylight that was the door. She propelled him toward it.
A few more steps, the room on fire behind them…and then they were out, stumbling across the porch, and hands reached out, helping her. Leo, Jonas Miller…the wail of a siren from the lane.
“Sam!” Trey rasped the dog’s name. Sam came bounding out, leaping off the porch as if he were a pup. He barreled into Trey, nearly knocking him over.
“Bobby.” Trey tried to push away their hands. “We have to get him out.”
Tires shrieked behind them as the township police car skidded to a stop, doors flying open.
“Put the gun down, Stephens.” Adam had his own weapon out, pointed at the doorway where Bobby stood against a background of flames. “It’s no good. Put the gun down and come out.”
For a moment Bobby stood there, gun waving as if he couldn’t decide what to do. Then, before anyone could move, he put it to his head and pulled the trigger.
JESSICA SAT ON A BACKLESS bench in the rear of the Miller barn, Geneva next to her, row after row of Amish women and girls in front of them. Across an aisle between the benches, men and boys sat, with Trey and Leo directly across from her and Geneva.
Elizabeth, on her other side, patted her hand. She had been appointed to sit with them during the worship service, explaining in whispers.
It was no easy thing to sit on a backless bench for close to three hours, especially when you didn’t understand a word of the language. But they had been honored with an invitation, because Thomas was finally free, completely cleared of all complicity in Cherry’s death. By craning her neck just a little she could see him, sitting next to his father and brothers about halfway up the aisle, looking just like every other man here in his plain black suit, except for his battered face. Thomas was restored to the spot where he belonged.
How long would it take him to heal? Not just physically, but emotionally? It was hard to tell. The boy was probably still in a state of shock. Still, the old clichés were probably true. He’d be all right, given time.
They’d been fortunate, and the thought was sobering. If Adam Byler and Jonas Miller hadn’t arrived in time to see what had happened at the cabin, would they have been believed? Certainly the process would have been far more complicated. As it was, a conference in the judge’s chambers had brought out the truth, as well as a decision as to how much of that truth would be revealed to the public. As long as Thomas was completely cleared, it didn’t matter to her how much dirty laundry the D.A. wanted to hide.
So the case was completed, and she was out of a job. The future looked blank, but strangely, that didn’t terrify her. She’d come to terms with her lack of a relationship with her father. She might always regret that, but she could move on.
Elizabeth leaned over, compressing them to the squashing point. “Bishop Amos is going to speak to all of us in Englisch.” Her awed whisper made it clear that this was unprecedented.
The bishop stood in front of his people. No platform, no pulpit, no stained-glass windows proclaimed this a church. It was simply a barn that would be restored to its normal purposes tomorrow. Today it was a house of worship.
“We cannot conclude our time together without thanking God for the deliverance of our brother Thomas Esch. And we must thank Him, too, for those Englischers He sent to be His servants in this matter.”
He raised his hands, looking like an Old Testament prophet with his long white beard.
“Father God, we praise You for your faithfulness to each generation of those who follow You. Thank You for delivering Your child Thomas from the hand of evil, and restoring him to those who love him. Thank You for sending us gut friends from among the Englisch to accomplish this act of your power. We will not forget to praise You.”
Jessica discovered that tears were dripping on her clasped hands. She never cried in public. Never. Until now. But now tears of thanksgiving seemed only right.
“I STILL THINK THE FACT that Bobby had me trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey while he tossed gasoline around would have convinced a judge, even if Adam hadn’t been there in minutes when Leo called,” Trey said.
Geneva paled. “I called Adam, too, you know. That’s why he was so close. I just…after I heard Leo’s reaction to Bobby’s calling you, I just knew.”
After the lengthy worship service and still-more-lengthy lunch, they’d finally come back to Geneva’s place to relax. Jessica hadn’t argued the point. If Trey found it awkward…
The truth was that she had no idea how Trey felt at this point. The past twenty-four hours had been busy, but he could have found time for a moment alone with her if he’d wanted that. He hadn’t.
“I’ll trust your instincts from now on.” Trey, sitting next to his mother on the sofa in the family room, gave her a quick hug. “And don’t look so worried. I’m fine, thanks to Jessica and Leo.”
“And Sam. Don’t forget him.” The dog came to nose against Jessica’s hand, and she stroked him.
“And Sam,” Trey added.
Geneva clutched her son’s hand as if she’d never let go. “I feel as if we’ve hardly had a chance to talk since all this happened. I still don’t understand what all that business was with the hex sign.”
“I doubt anybody ever did, except Bobby.” Bleakness shadowed Trey’s eyes. He’d be blaming himself for not seeing what was happening with Bobby, probably.
“The Brotherhood of the Raven doesn’t exist nowadays except in his imagination,” Leo said. “I’m sure of that. A psychiatrist would probably say that it made him feel important, thinking he was part of some powerful secret society.”
“It was such a foolish thing to kill that poor girl over. As for Blake, he’d have forgiven in a minute.” Geneva held Trey’s hand tighter, and the diamond in her ring winked in the light.
At least Geneva had her faith back in her relationship with her husband. She was hurting, but eventually this nightmare would fade, and she’d be left with the knowledge that her husband hadn’t willingly left her.
“He said something about Cherry being greedy.” Trey frowned. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever know exactly why he killed her, but she knew too much about him.”
“Or why he decided to frame Thomas. At least he’s safe now.” Leo glanced at Jessica over the top of his glasses, eyes twinkling. “How does it feel to win a big case in such spectacular fashion?”
“I’d just as soon win them less dramatically,” she said. “In fact, I’d settle for some nice, boring land disputes. Or writing wills. That would be safe.”
“It’s funny you mention that.” Leo exchanged looks with Geneva. “You know, I’ve decided I’m not quite ready for the scrap heap yet. I’d like to go on with the practice, if I could get a bright young partner to work with me. What do you think, Jessica? Would you like that?”
“Please say yes.” Geneva reached across the space between them to clasp Jessica’s hand. “I can’t stand the thought of you going out of our lives. You’d like it here, really.”
The longing to say accept was so strong it nearly forced the word out of her mouth. But how could she do that? How could she stay here, seeing Trey, knowing how close they’d come to having something real between them?
“I’m honored, Leo. Can I have a little time to think about it?”
“Of course. All the time you want.�
�� If Leo was offended that she didn’t jump at the offer, he hid it well.
Trey stood suddenly, holding out his hand to Jessica. “You’ll excuse us, I know. Jessica and I are going for a walk.”
“We are?”
“Yes.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. Sam, responding to the word walk, was already at the door, his tail waving.
Jessica could feel the others watching as they walked out the door, crossed the porch and started across the lawn. Trey held her hand firmly in his, as if he’d forgotten he had taken it.
Sam at their heels, they walked across the lawn and under the shade of a gnarled old apple tree. Trey stopped, turning to face her, still holding her hand. “There’s something I have to say.”
“I’m listening.” Her voice sounded calm, but her heart was thumping so loudly she could hear it.
“You saved my life yesterday. I thought I was protecting you, and you saved my life.”
“Turnabout is fair play,” she said, managing to keep her voice light. “You saved my life that night Bobby ran me off the road.”
“Yes.” His grip tightened painfully. “When I think how close we came to losing each other…Jessica, you already know all the bad things about me. I’m bossy, and overprotective, and stubborn.” He paused. “Maybe stubborn isn’t all bad. It means I’m not willing to give up on what we might have between us. I love you, Jessica. I don’t want to lose you. Please stay.”
She looked up at him, her heart swelling. It wasn’t over. “You really are all those things,” she said softly. “But I wouldn’t change any of them. Because I love you, too.”
A smile trembled on her lips. Trey pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her, and then his lips found hers. The kiss was warm and loving and filled with promise, saying all the things that didn’t need words.
Trey drew back finally, looking at her with a question in his eyes. “Does this mean the answer to Leo’s proposal is yes?”
“It does.”
“And mine?”
“Yes to that, too.” Happiness bubbled up inside her. “I guess I can’t get Geneva for a mother on any easier terms, can I?”
“We’re a package deal,” he said, pulling her close.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7570-0
MURDER IN PLAIN SIGHT
Copyright © 2010 by Martha Johnson
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