A Rose Revealed (30 page)

“It’s cold down here,” Peter whined suddenly, putting his hands beside his shoulders preparatory to pushing himself upright. “You could at least let me stand up.”

Jake and I didn’t bother to answer. Instead Jake released the safety on his handgun with a loud click. With another disbelieving groan, Peter slid his hands down his sides and lowered his cheek to the ground.

All the evil he has done, I thought, and it’s brought him nothing but shame and certain incarceration, if not death. He’s earned that groan and the many that are certain to follow.

“How do the cops know to come?” I asked Jake.

“We called 911 when we saw you being chased,” he explained.

“Ah,” I said and smiled at him like he was the wisest man on earth. We waited side by side, our arms touching, our guns trained on the now sobbing Peter while Davy held Lauren, talking quietly to her.

Chapter 16

W
e’d just finished telling our story to the local police when Lem Huber showed up. He danced the jurisdictional waltz with the Honey Brook and West Caln police and the state police. I truly didn’t care where Peter Hostetter was jailed, just so it was somewhere.

I checked Lauren’s wound. Though it bled a lot as head wounds do, the cut wasn’t deep enough for stitches. Davy seemed satisfied, but he was relieved when an EMT in uniform gave the same appraisal.

“Keep an eye on her,” the EMT said. “If her headache gets worse or if she starts to vomit or has a seizure, get her to a hospital immediately.”

Davy looked panicked.

“But none of that should happen,” the EMT hastened to assure him.

Understandably Davy wanted to take her home as soon as the police would let him.

“When she stumbled out of those trees and collapsed…” His voice trailed away as he was unable to articulate how he felt. He shuddered and gripped his wife’s hand.

“Ouch,” Lauren said. “You’re hurting me worse than my head.”

Davy loosened his grip but didn’t let go. He bundled her into the car with great care and drove off without a backward glance.

We drove to Mom’s as soon as we were allowed. We’d called to tell her we were delayed but only said we’d explain when we saw her. I’d made Jake place the call because I knew she wouldn’t push him for details as she would me—or complain about her undoubtedly ruined dinner.

“How did that terrible man know where you were?” Mom asked when we finally sat in her living room and explained.

“He must have followed us from the hardware store,” I said. “That’s all I can figure. He hid somewhere and watched the house. When he saw Lauren and me leave, he stalked us. Because of our matching red coats, he confused Lauren with me.”

Mom hugged herself, looking at me with eyes full of fear. “What if he’d hit you? And hurt you?” Her voice was a whisper.

“He didn’t, Mom.” I smiled gently.

“Take care of her, Jake,” Mom said, grasping his arm. “I couldn’t stand to lose her.” She hugged me hard, turned, and walked to the kitchen, shoulders slumped.

We ate what would have been a marvelous meal if we’d been able to eat it when it was ready. No one had much to say, and I welcomed the silence. There had been so many lights and sirens, so much static. Just like at Hostetters. Just like with Rhoda and Dad. But I noticed that I wasn’t as overwhelmed as I had been before.

I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly as I relished another new thought: I felt no guilt. In other times, I would have felt guilty over Lauren getting hurt. If she hadn’t been with me, I’d have reasoned, she wouldn’t have been hurt, like being with me was the reason for her injury, not the pursuit by a murderer. I also would have taken back feelings of responsibility for Sophie and Ammon, for Dad and Rhoda. But not anymore. Not anymore. The Great Guilt Bearer bore all my guilt.

“I don’t feel guilty.” I smiled. “I don’t feel guilty!”

“Well, of course not,” Mom said. “You’re the victim.”

But Jake seemed to know what I meant. He looked at me and smiled.

“And you,” Mom said, turning to Jake. “You’re a hero.”

“He is, isn’t he?” I grinned at him. “He and Davy.”

Jake merely grunted.

When we were in the van driving back to the farm, Jake was withdrawn and quiet, but it didn’t bother me. I wanted to be silent too. In fact, I napped all the way home.

When we parked in the drive beside the barn, I climbed out of the van and waited for Jake. There were no calls to come sit on his lap tonight, no whispered words, no sweet hugs and kisses. I didn’t care. I was too weary for such shenanigans, however pleasant.

I stopped when we reached the stairs to the main house. The house was dark, the family all in bed. The night was crisp and cold, the moon waning. I heard a screech owl shriek, a noise that always sounded too much like someone screaming for my taste. I shivered.

Suddenly Hawk came loping across the lawn and shoved his wet nose into Jake’s neck. Jake jumped at the cold touch and then absently petted the animal.

“I want to thank you for being there tonight, Jake,” I said softly. “You saved my life. I’m sure of that.” I grinned. “You really are a hero. My hero.”

He slanted his head to look up at me. I couldn’t see his eyes or read his expression in the darkness. He stared without moving for several seconds. Then he raised his hand an inch or two from the dog’s neck. It hung suspended for another few seconds before he dropped it back down. He sighed as if in pain.

“Jake? What’s wrong?”

“G’night,” he said abruptly and turned. He rolled off around the corner of the house, Hawk loping after him.

Frowning slightly, I let myself in the front door and went upstairs. I fell into bed before I brushed my teeth and I, Rose of the health police, didn’t even care.

Sunday morning was brilliantly sunny, the frost sparkling and the clouds like powder puffs in the crisp blue sky. When I came down for breakfast, I felt light as a feather. All the danger was gone. I could go back to my job, drive my car freely, and resume life as I knew it.

No, I thought. Not as I knew it. Life’s better now. There’s Jake.

But he wasn’t there at the breakfast table. He was already gone for the day, Mary told me.

“Do you know where he was going or when he’ll be back?” she asked me just a fraction of a minute before I asked the same questions of her.

I shook my head. I was flattered that she had asked me but saddened that I had no answers. Slightly miffed, too. Not that he was obliged to tell me his plans. It just seemed polite.

I didn’t see him all day though I longed to be with him. I smiled somewhat sourly to myself. We would have to talk about what bad form it was to disappear without leaving a message.

At least I wasn’t alone in church. I sat with Davy and Lauren and Sam and Becky. It was the first time Becky had been to a service that wasn’t Amish, and it was culture shock for her, though in a positive way. Her eyes gleamed and she listened raptly to the message. There was one point during the singing when she teared up, obviously thinking of Trevor. Sam took her hand and held it tightly, and she sang through her tears.

I spent Sunday afternoon in my rooms trying to read while I wondered where Jake was. The family was away visiting on this Sunday, something Jake was well aware of. He knew I was alone in the house, and he left me that way with no word at all.

I was struck by the thought that just two Sundays ago, I would have been delighted to be alone in my apartment with a good book. Now I chaffed at my solitude. I wanted the company of a certain man, and suddenly I wasn’t getting it.

By Monday I was more than glad to return to work. I desperately needed activity to occupy my mind. I was fretting far too much and making myself crazy wondering what could possibly be wrong.

I called Mary late in the afternoon to tell her I wouldn’t make dinner because I had to work late.

“You’re as bad as Jake,” she said. “He won’t be here for supper either.”

Interesting, I thought as I hung up and went back to my paperwork. But what did it mean?

When I pulled into the drive, Jake’s van wasn’t there. He’d managed to outlast me again.

Tuesday was a repeat of Monday. Jake disappeared after an early breakfast and didn’t show until late in the evening. Then he didn’t come into his parents’ house to greet anyone or seek me out in any way. I began to get truly miffed—and nervous.

Wednesday morning I left the house very early. I had to see a patient and her family before the husband left for work. I was to teach them how to deal with her colostomy bag and all the other sanitary difficulties that went with colon cancer. I also had to check her vital signs and draw blood.

I hurried down my stairs and out the front door at a rush, reviewing what I had to do. I was so preoccupied that I literally ran into Jake at the bottom of the steps and ended up falling over the chair. He reached out and grabbed me to keep me from crashing to the ground.

“Are you all right, Tiger?” he asked, all the remembered warmth and concern evident in his voice. His hands were on my waist.

I staggered, trying to get my feet under me. I put my hands on his shoulders to get better leverage. In seconds I was standing erect, but he kept his hands on me and I kept my hands on his shoulders. We looked at each other.

I saw the concern in his eyes, the affection, and for the first time in days, I started to relax. Nothing was wrong. He was just busy. I was imagining a problem.

Then the shutters closed. Just that quickly, all emotion drained from his eyes, his face became blank, and his hands fell away. I was left standing awkwardly with my hands still on his shoulders.

I flushed and pulled back. “Jake, what—”

He turned his chair abruptly and wheeled toward the drive. “Have a nice day, Rose.”

I stared after him.
Have a nice day, Rose?
I’d heard him talk to Hawk with ten times the interest as that one sentence to me.

Later that day I decided that the only trouble with being a home health nurse was the time for thinking as I drove from patient to patient, house to house. No matter how high I turned the volume on the radio, no matter which station I put on, no matter which CD I shoved in the slot, I couldn’t shut out that cool “Have a nice day, Rose.” It repeated itself over and over, with each repetition wrapping itself more tightly like funeral crepe around my heart.

What had happened? What had gone wrong? I asked myself those questions over and over. One minute he was saving my life. The next he was avoiding me. Why? What made such a huge difference in such a short time? I hadn’t seen Jake as fickle or feckless. In fact, he was just the opposite.

Maybe he had felt responsible only as long as I was in danger. I understood responsibility like that. I felt it myself for my patients, but I moved on after they were well again. Maybe now that the danger to me was gone, he no longer felt compelled to help me. Now he could let his real feelings show, which is to say, his lack of feelings. By the end of the day, I decided I had to leave the farm if Jake continued as he was. I couldn’t deal with the continuing disappointment and hurt.

But, I tried to tell myself, this coolness on his part was a good thing. After all, I couldn’t marry him. He wasn’t a believer. If he pulled back, then I didn’t have to. I might be hurt and upset, but I was being forced to act appropriately.

And there was no reason I should be surprised at his withdrawal. He had told me repeatedly that he wouldn’t love me. It wasn’t his fault that I hadn’t believed him.

I should never have declared my feelings. I set myself up for rejection by being too open, too honest. If I’d just kept my mouth shut, we could have at least been friends. Then I’d still have the joy of his company and the warmth of his support.

And that loss of support was what hurt the most. I had felt a strength flow from him to me time after time, shoring up my flagging spirits. When the Hostetters died, he was there, but it was more than that. He had somehow fortified me and made me stronger than I was. When Trevor died, he had done more than hold me. He had shared my grief. When Ben was revealed as duplicitous, he helped me laugh instead of rage.

As I pulled up to a gas pump, I blinked against the blinding effect of the sun on my watery eyes. I sniffed and cleared my throat. I couldn’t have been wrong about the emotional closeness I felt. I just couldn’t. I wasn’t very experienced with men, but I wasn’t an idiot either. While I loved his kisses and his arms around me, it was the psychological intimacy that I had reveled in most.

I turned the motor off and pulled the keys from the ignition.

Now that intimacy was gone, and I recognized my life as the desert it was. In retrospect, it was amazing to me that I hadn’t known just how barren my existence had been before the bombing. Now I knew, and I ached at the thought of a future so bleak.

I climbed out of the car and ran the agency credit card through the slot on the pump. I stuck the nozzle in the car and clamped the handle. The gas started to flow, and I had to blink hard to keep tears from doing the same thing.

Oh, Lord, I need Your help. Paul wrote that when he was weak, then he was strong because of You. I’m weak, Lord. In fact, I feel like I’m dying here. Please, please make me strong. I give Jake to You. I suspect I’ll have to remind myself of this decision every few minutes, so please be patient with me
.

The gas clicked off just then, and I returned the nozzle to the pump. I collected the receipt to turn in at the office, knowing Madylyn, the office manager, would be most upset if I forgot it.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and I made myself go home in time for dinner. As I drove down the road to the farm, I noticed new construction in the patch of woods beside the cows’ pasture. I was surprised since I had assumed that the Zooks owned all the property along the road.

Seeing the beginnings of a new house made me think of a new apartment. I needed to find somewhere else to live. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life wondering or worrying about seeing Jake. I’d wither inside.