Promise at Pebble Creek

by Lisa Jones Baker

  Seats at both tables began to fill while raised voices floated through the house. “Don’t forget to wash your hands!”

  Each one took a turn using the small hall bathroom, and as soon as everyone was seated, Daed’s gruff, low voice asked his family to join him in prayer. Before bowing, Hannah took in all the dishes in the middle of the table.

  Chicken and noodles. Hot yeast rolls. Corn on the cob from one of Daed’s gardens. Fried chicken. Fresh tomatoes. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Her mouth watered.

  After the “Amen,” conversations started. Hannah reached for the fried chicken, helped herself, and passed the dish to her right. Noah’s voice was edged with interest as he turned to share the plate of sweet corn ears with Ben. “How’s everything at Cabot, Ben?”

  “Couldn’t be better. I guess you could say that Gott blessed me in two ways. My workload got a little lighter, and my new coworker has paid me three months’ rent, cash, up front.”

  Hannah pretended an interest in cutting a piece of fried chicken into small pieces as she contemplated Marcus, the cash she’d returned to him, and the serious conversation that had resulted between her and her new friend.

  A different one between two of her sisters-in-laws, Miriam and Ruby, started up as Hannah buttered a warm yeast roll.

  Ruby’s tone was casual while she dished a helping of garden tomatoes onto her plate. Silverware clinked lightly against glass. “Can’t believe someone broke into King’s Bakery.”

  In response, Miriam looked up and took a drink of iced tea before returning her glass to the white napkin. “I know. It’s all the whole town’s talking about. I heard about it this morning when I went to mail bills at the post office.”

  Ruby raised a brow before meeting Miriam’s gaze. “Any update?”

  Miriam responded with a quick shrug. “I don’t know. But I did stop by to have coffee with Lydia King late this morning. When we sat down, she was all shaken up. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me. Said the whole family’s trying to deal with what happened. That they’ll be okay without the money. They’re mainly relieved that no one was inside the bakery when it happened. And they’re concerned about it happening again. Either at their shop or somewhere else in town.”

  “How much cash was missing?”

  “Nine hundred and twenty-two dollars.”

  Hannah tried to pretend disinterest. In a calm voice, she asked between bites of a homemade yeast roll, “Do they have any idea who took it?”

  By now, Ruby had ceased eating and was leaning forward to converse with Miriam across the table. “Not a clue. They took fingerprints from the doorknob; of course, unless the King clan wiped off the handle each time a person came in, every customer’s prints are on it.”

  After a slight pause, Miriam added, “I heard some talk in town that it’s highly coincidental that this happened right after your new renter . . .” She glanced at Ben. “Moved in. I mean, our town has never experienced anything like this before. Ever.”

  Daed’s commanding voice claimed everyone’s attention. “It’s wrong to accuse a man just because he’s new here. Let’s just let the cops and investigators do their jobs. I’m sure, tonight, everyone in town’s wondering the same things we are.”

  Maemm’s calm, positive voice ended the conversation. “I’m sure the Kings are all grateful that no one was hurt.”

  “Jah,” Daed agreed as he gave an agreeable nod. He looked around the table before lifting his chin. “But until they catch who did it, we all need to be careful.”

  * * *

  In Maemm’s kitchen that evening, Hannah dried the last clean dish and placed it in the beautiful cherrywood cabinet, which had been made by William Conrad. After laying her damp towel over the water spigot, she made her way up the oak stairs to her room, where she stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind her. As she stepped to her desk, she could hear Maemm’s flyswatter meet a wall.

  Hannah stopped a moment and smiled. In front of her was most of what she owned. Her bed, with the beautiful quilt Maemm had made her years ago. Different shades of purple prompted a breath of awe and a pleasant childhood recollection. When Hannah was young, purple had been her favorite color. Now she preferred blue.

  She lifted her gaze to the two pegs on the wall. A spare navy dress hung from one peg. The other held her nightgown. She looked down at her polished oak desk and chair that brother Elijah had made at their family furniture shop at the edge of town. She took in the slick, dark, glossy finish and ran her finger over the smooth top.

  Her favorite part of the room was the large window overlooking the backyard, which seemed to go on a million miles before meeting their large red barn. Her heart warmed at the simple, homemade curtains that were pulled back and hooked to their pegs.

  A yawn escaped Hannah’s mouth as she bent to lift her miniature hope chest and put it next to her on the handwoven rug at the side of her bed, where she took in Old Sam’s beautiful etching of the Ten Commandments. Getting comfortable on her hips, she took her usual seat on the floor covering, reaching back behind her to pull The Adventures of Sydney and Carson from beneath her pillow.

  She traced her finger over the Ten Commandments. As she did so, she contemplated Marcus’s huge move from Chicago to Arthur, a place she was sure was the antithesis of the city. Not that she’d ever been to Chicago; she hadn’t, but she’d read enough about it in library magazines.

  She thought of the talk they’d had. Of the conversation she’d overheard from the women at Amish Edibles. She began to read another scene from Sydney and Carson. Her heart pounded as she imagined her and Marcus in the dangerous episode.

  He had to get to Sydney. Had to get her out of the building. If he didn’t do it fast, she’d be engulfed in the fire that was rapidly spreading.

  Carson kicked the door open. Inside, smoke was so thick he could barely see. He glimpsed Sydney, facedown, trapped by a wooden beam that covered her legs, and rushed to her.

  As he leaned over her, he could hear her soft groan of pain. With all the strength he could muster, he lifted one end of the beam. After he did so, she rolled onto her side.

  He put down the end, careful it was away from her, lifted her, and carried her out the door. The moment they were outside, the front of the building burst into huge flames. “My leg . . . I think it’s broken,” she said in weak, drawn-out words.

  “You’ll be okay. Because I’m here. But we’ve got to get far away, in case there’s an explosion. Keep your arms around my neck. And hold on tight.”

  Hannah caught an excited breath that escaped her throat. She rested the paperback on the floor to her right and rested her hands on her lap. Her pulse pumped to a fast beat. They’re going to be okay. Sydney will live. Because of Carson’s bravery.

  As the scene filled her thoughts, she shook her head. But a new idea struck her, and she quickly recalled Mrs. Graber’s words to her years before. “You’ve got quite an imagination. I enjoy your stories.”

  Inspired by The Adventures of Sydney and Carson . . . Inspired by Marcus and his bravery, which had led to his change of landscape . . . Inspired by her unexpected feelings for her new friend, she stood and made her way to her small oak desk, grabbed her small notepad and pen, and returned to her comfortable spot on the rug.

  As her real-life story filled her thoughts, she settled into a more comfortable position and started her own book. My very first story. By Hannah Lapp.

  At the top line, she narrowed her brows as the pleasant, relaxing scent of the cinnamon sachet she kept between her pillows floated through her room. What should I call it?

  For several moments, she strummed the tip of her finger against the paper. Then she put pen to paper. With a smile, Hannah printed The Adventures of Marcus and Hannah. Bringing her knees closer to her chest so the notepad was easy to reach, she imagined being involved in an exciting adventure with her new Englisch friend. And began writing.

  Hannah’s feelings for Marcus were forbidden. He wasn’t of
the Plain Faith, and most likely never would be. But one day bonded them together, heart and soul, Amish and Englisch, forever.

  It was Friday the thirteenth. Hannah wasn’t superstitious, nor had she ever been. However, she knew of Englisch friends who were. On that day, something in the quiet countryside of Arthur, Illinois, happened that was so unusual. So unexpected.

  It was a typical evening. It seemed to be, anyway. In the back room of Amish Edibles, Hannah tallied the week’s profits. Outside, the sun was setting. Inside, she knew that the minutes of daylight were nearly at an end as the stray cat she’d taken in, Scarlet, quietly sat in the corner of the room.

  Outside of the back window, she glimpsed a kaleidoscope of colors that reminded her of different beautiful paints dumped onto a single canvas. Letting out a sigh, she stacked the green bills from her cash register and began to fill out a deposit slip. Next, she laid the money in a neat pile and neatly slipped the bills into the bank envelope in front of her.

  She looked forward to the evening. Marcus was to come by any minute to pick up the lone jar of raspberry jelly she had saved just for him. She smiled a little at the thought of the Englischer. Marcus Jackson. Honest, hardworking, and Gott-fearing. He was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man.

  Except for one thing. He wasn’t Amish. She frowned. As she sealed the envelope and clipped the contents with a black binder, an unusual sound caught her attention, and she stopped. She stayed very still while she turned toward the source of the noise. She watched the back-door handle jiggle.

  Hannah’s eyes widened with fear. She swallowed a knot that blocked her throat. Her heart pounded at a dangerous pace prompted by fear. Because Amish Edibles was closed for the day.

  Outside, the CLOSED sign was on the front entrance. The back door was locked. Besides, no one ever used it.

  Not only that, but there was no reason to try to enter through that entrance. Unless someone wanted to get in unnoticed. Unless that person intended to steal from Amish Edibles. She pressed her lips into a straight line, immediately recalling her daed’s recent warning to be careful. She didn’t dare go to the small window to see who tried to get in. Even if she did, she probably wouldn’t be able to get a look at the person since the window was several feet away from the door.

  She glanced at the clock and pulled in a hopeful breath. Because Marcus was due here. Maybe it would be better if he came late. Because his life could be in danger, like hers was. Still, she’d give anything to hear his car pull into the parking lot. To know he was here with her in her time of need.

  She contemplated her situation and applied her God-given logic. Whoever tried to get in must know she was inside. Even if they hadn’t peeked in the small window, Miracle was tied in front. And her buggy was next to him.

  Those things alone indicated that someone was aware of her presence. As quietly as she could, Hannah grabbed the envelope and said a quick, urgent prayer before hurrying to the other side of the door that separated the back room from the main shop area.

  Behind her, she quietly closed the door. She frowned, wishing she could lock it. But there was no lock. Because of that, she questioned why she’d even bothered to close it.

  Money in hand, she rushed out into the main area, to the shop’s phone. She started to ring the emergency number for help. But there was no dial tone.

  She tried, over and over. The result was the same. But whoever was attempting to get in didn’t give up. Even from where she was, it was hard to ignore the handle rattling, which was becoming louder. A chill swept her spine. Her heart pumped to a fast, fearful beat. She sensed urgency. As if someone would break the door down.

  Hannah stopped and stretched her legs. As she laid her notepad and pen to her side, she relaxed her head against the quilt that fell over the sides of her bed. She considered the first part of her story and smiled with satisfaction.

  A sense of excitement swept through her as she imagined being in a real robbery. Although that was the last thing she wanted.

  She knew that of course. That was why fiction was so much fun to read. Because in your mind, you could be in danger, when in reality you were safe. She expelled a sigh and reasoned that reading about a break-in was definitely much better than actually witnessing a theft.

  She interlaced her hands on her lap and straightened as she considered recent events. There has never ever been a robbery in town. What if someone had been inside the bakery when it was broken in to? Would they have been hurt? Or worse? She thought of the King clan and shook her head. Thank Gott they’re okay.

  She paused her thoughts a moment to enjoy the warm summer breeze coming in through the screens. The smells from the outdoors were a combination of freshly mowed grass and manure that had been used to fertilize the garden. Besides the nightly sounds coming from the cicadas, it was relatively quiet.

  While Hannah considered the long, serious conversation she’d had with Marcus that very afternoon in Amish Edibles, she yearned to talk to someone about the robbery and the wad of money she’d found.

  The yearning within her to talk about her feelings for the Englischer was so strong, she closed her eyes and clenched her palms together. After a moment, she opened her lids and relaxed her fingers.

  But there was no one to share that information with. Not without arousing suspicion about Marcus. Besides, she was all too aware of the negativity they’d both endure if anyone found out how she felt about the Chicago native. However, it wasn’t really herself that she was concerned with; it was her family. The last thing they deserved was to suffer because she followed her heart.

  She definitely didn’t want to deal with disapproval, which was exactly what she’d be confronted with if she conveyed what was going on inside her.

  She also felt the need to share her forbidden feelings about him with someone who could advise her on what to do. Someone who would listen without passing judgment. She couldn’t think of anyone who qualified. No one alive anyway.

  She contemplated one person who’d been known to offer expert advice. The best listener. Old Sam. She was fully aware of the positive influence he’d made in her life. He’d been old when she’d met him; still, the positive impact he’d made would stay with her forever. She pressed her lips together, wondering what he would think of everything that had happened so quickly.

  As the calming scent from her homemade cinnamon candle swept pleasantly through her room, she whispered, “Old Sam, you were full of wisdom. What would you have thought if you’d found a wad of cash right after the bakery was robbed? What would you had made of all this?”

  How could anyone plan how to react in such a situation? She recalled where Old Sam had gotten his advice and smiled a little. She pushed herself up from her position, stood, and stepped to the window, where she took in the full moon and the stars scattered throughout the sky.

  As she put her faith in her Creator, she closed her eyes and whispered a simple prayer. “Dear Lord, please protect us. And I say a special prayer for Marcus, that You will bless him and help him start a new life here in Arthur. Amen.”

  Chapter Six

  Inside his Chevy the following morning, Marcus rolled down the driver’s side window and cruised the narrow, winding blacktop outside Arcola.

  He had prayed for God to protect the town of Arthur. More importantly, he’d asked his Creator to keep Hannah safe.

  He trusted his Lord and Savior. At the same time, disappointment welled inside him. Even though he’d left his roots with the good intention of beginning a Christian life, could he move forward without changing his brothers? I can make my future what I want it to be, but I can’t do anything about the past but learn from it.

  Before he attempted to change his brothers, he had to learn what God wanted from him. How He intended Marcus to serve. Yesterday, Marcus hadn’t planned to reveal so much about his family to Hannah; not yet anyway. But the King’s Bakery circumstances and his missing money had forced him to spill as much as he had needed so she’d unde
rstand why he’d kept so much cash on him.

  He slapped his hand against the steering wheel in frustration and swallowed the uncomfortable knot that blocked his throat. I like Hannah. A lot. Even though I hardly know her. I’d love to date her. Of course, I’ve no doubt that wouldn’t be permissible because I’m not of the Plain Faith. I wish there wasn’t so much in my life to straighten out.

  Something within him that was so strong pulled at his heartstrings whenever he thought of her. Even so, he acknowledged that his relationship with the beautiful Amish woman could never be more than friendship. From the moment he’d glimpsed her quilt, he’d experienced a strong bond with her. Somehow, her work had connected him to a life that had been filled with goodness and love. A life he yearned for.

  He recalled the emotional moment he’d glimpsed her quilt. At that very moment, every worry and concern had evaporated, like steam from a teakettle. And amazingly, being with Hannah had somehow filled him with a sense of security. He wasn’t sure why; he barely knew her. He reasoned it was because she represented safety and goodness, all that had been missing from his life for a long time.

  She had returned his money as he’d spilled his sad story that very afternoon; he had taken in the surprised expression on her face, a combination of fear and disbelief. What he’d seen on her porcelain visage forced a pain in his stomach.

  What he’d offered her was fear and disbelief. He let out a sigh of disappointment. On the contrary, what he yearned to give her was comfort and happiness. Stability. What had happened at King’s Bakery had stirred up his worries again.

  I pray the thief gets caught right away. But in the meantime, how can I ensure that Hannah’s safe? That her family’s protected?

  As he strained to see around the tall stalks of corn when he turned, what he needed to do came to him. A sudden calmness enveloped him as he remembered the pastor’s words the night Marcus had changed inside.