A Simple Hope: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (39 page)

“I came to court my girl.” He smiled, nodding toward the buggy. “How about a little ride? I’ve got enough control to sit right and steer the horses.”

“Is that so?” She folded her arms across her chest, fighting the tears of joy that stung her eyes. “Oh, James, you’ve come so far! I know you’ve worked for it. You’ve worked hard every day. But it’s such a blessing. I think it’s a miracle.”

“Gott is great. Kumm. Let’s get away before we wake the whole King family.”

Sitting close to James, Rachel was grateful for his warmth as they rode in silence. The silvery moon, the scattered stars, the midnight sky and quiet, rolling hills wove a beautiful, peaceful picture all around them. She had never attempted a night painting, and now she wondered if she could ever capture this lovely serenity on a canvas.

“So, how long have you been driving?” she asked.

“Just a few days. Mark’s been taking me out to practice.”

“And you kept it a secret from me? I thought there were no secrets between us.”

“No secrets, just a surprise.” He turned the buggy into a farm lane and pulled the reins to stop. When he turned toward her, he seemed hearty and strong, his shoulders so broad and his legs secure on the running board. “At first I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Oh, but hope is a very good thing.” She flattened her hands
against his chest, loving the warmth there. “I never stopped hoping for you, James … and for the two of us.”

He wrapped the reins on the stump and slipped his arms around her waist. “You never did. I was lost in the dark for a while, but you? You were like the brightest star in the sky, always shining, lighting the way. You showed me the path …” He walked his fingers along her shoulder, tickling her slightly as his fingertips trailed up along her jaw. He pressed a fingertip to her lips. “You showed me the way back to you.”

Rachel thought her heart would burst with love and joy as he gently cupped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was a wild explosion of stars and sunlight and blossoming flowers. Oh, the power of his kiss!

She pressed her body closer, entering the warm cocoon of his arms. He smelled of wood smoke and lavender, and his body was the perfect fit for hers as she pressed against him. This was where she belonged, tucked into James’s arms, loving him, needing him. Her senses tingled and her pulse raced as they tumbled from one kiss to another, lost in each other under the starry sky. Time slipped away as they nestled together.

Her lips were swollen from kissing when he slid his mouth across her cheek to her ear. “I love you,” he whispered, his breath hot and moist against her bare neck.

“And I love you.” Her voice was husky from passion.

“I’m glad you’re taking classes to get baptized. I know it’s only the beginning of June, but autumn will be here before you know it. First baptism, and then wedding season. I can’t wait to marry you, Rachel, if you’ll still have me.”

“I want to marry you, for better or worse,” she said. “Though I may want a proper proposal, Mr. Lapp.”

“We’ve been through that. I gave you a proper proposal years ago. Don’t tell me you gave away our clock?”

“How could I do that? I’ve kept it close. Sometimes right under my pillow at night. Sometimes the ticking sound is soothing.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s still working.” He grinned. “Did I ever tell you the riddle about the clock?”

“Two hands, one face, always runs, but stays in place.”

His brows shot up. “You really do know me well.”

They chuckled together, and then he captured her hand and pressed it inside his jacket. Amid the welcome warmth, she could feel the steady thump of his heart. “Feel that? It beats for you, Rachel. One day that clock may burst its springs, but as long as this heart beats, it beats for you.”

In the back of her mind, she had always known that, but it was oh-so-sweet to hear him say the words.

T
he screen door slapped closed behind her as Shandell went out on the back porch. “Sorry,” she called, knowing that the noise could be annoying.

“No worries,” Zoey answered from the kitchen window. “That door spring is on Tate’s fix-it list, which seems to be getting longer every day. Good thing he likes to tinker.”

“Good thing,” Shandell called as she headed out to the clothesline to check the two quilts drying in the sun.

The fan quilt, with its turquoise border and colorful fans repeated in small blocks, was dry and smelling springtime fresh. She eased it from the line, folding it first in half, then quarters, careful not to let it touch the ground. The lovely old quilt had been in Zoey’s family’s attic for years, which explained the need for a good washing to get out the musty smell. But now that it was clean, Shandell understood how this beautiful handmade quilt had inspired Zoey to open the Halfway to Heaven Bed and Breakfast.
With her arms full, she headed toward the porch, her flip-flops slapping on the wood.

Since she’d come out of hiding, summer had unfurled in Halfway, with bold blue skies, scorching heat, and fields of green. Even now as she gazed out from the porch, the sky and fields opened up around her, broad and bright with possibility.

New possibilities, every day. She had not imagined the blessings God had in store for her when she’d been holed up in the sugar shack. But once Doctor Trueherz and his wife took Mom and her under their wing, so many other things had fallen into place. Celeste had won over Mom, and Dr. Trueherz had introduced them to Dylan Monroe, a therapist and social worker who had helped Shandell in so many ways. Dylan had hooked her up with a free group therapy session over in Paradise, and he had been awesome in getting her this job at the Jordans’ inn, a position that included room and board.

The icing on the cake had been her mother’s decision to move up here. Dylan had helped Mom in her job search, and Celeste Trueherz had found a small house for her to rent—an adorable little cottage with a rose trellis and a wishing well. Mom deserved a fresh start, and Shandell was glad Chelsea had found a friend in Celeste. Whenever Shandell stopped by, those two were either on their way to the movies or sitting on the patio, sharing stories and iced tea. Yup, the town of Halfway now seemed like a much kinder place than it had when she’d first gotten stuck here.

Even the sheriff, Hank Hallinan, was now one of her go-to guys. He had scared the stuffing out of her when he’d first started interviewing her at the clinic. She had thought back to those days she’d been riding around aimlessly with Gary, and wondered if maybe she was guilty of some crime.

“If someone steals gas but you don’t know it and you’re riding in their car, does that make you an accessory to the crime?” she had asked him.

He had mulled that over. “You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t. Well, I knew about some things he stole. Some fried chicken and snacks. But that was after he took the stuff. And then, when he started stealing in front of me, I tried to talk him out of it. I told him to pay. I also told him to take me home. I begged him to take me home. He didn’t listen.”

“As far as I can tell, you had no intention of breaking the law,” Sheriff Hank had told her. “If anything, you were a victim yourself. With a little more of a chronology and some corroboration, we might be able to charge him with attempted kidnapping.”

“Oh.” Shandell didn’t want to hurt Gary; she just wanted him out of her life, forever. “I’ll tell you everything that I remember, but honestly, I don’t know why he got so obsessed with me riding around with him. I was never his girlfriend.”

“For whatever reason, he targeted you. That happens sometimes.” He sat back, his sheriff’s badge winking in the light. “We’re lucky things turned out this way. It was wise of you to hide out for a while.”

Looking back on the past two months, Shandell couldn’t believe the drama in her life. A road trip. A runaway. Attempted kidnapping. Living Amish. Homeless. A medical miracle. Her life sounded like a supermarket tabloid!

Now, as she centered the quilt on the double bed in the room called Rural Retreat, she took in the space with its wall plaque, plain white curtains, and walls painted a pale shade of peach. There was a watering can in the corner that Zoey had painted turquoise and filled with silk flowers, and the old dresser was polished to a shine, though its edges bore some cuts and nicks, signs of true wear and tear. Maybe the room held a bit more decoration than most Amish homes, but it was more authentic than the chandeliers and wallpaper that Zoey had initially chosen.

On the wall adjacent to the bed was one of Rachel’s paintings—one
of Shandell’s favorites because it showed the sugar shack with its roof coated with a layer of sparkling snow. Shandell had a fondness for that old cabin because her life changed there. But of course, the place was just an old shack. People like Rachel and James were the ones who had saved her when she had nowhere else to turn. People like Dylan Monroe and the Trueherzes were the catalysts of change. And her new bosses, Zoey and Tate, had the courage to take a chance on her, and trust her with their home and their van.

Fluffing up the flowers in the watering can, she surveyed the room with a surge of pride. Rural Retreat was ready for guests, as were two other rooms on this floor. If they stayed on track, the inn would be ready to open next week when their first group of guests was booked. Apparently, lots of people wanted to experience how the Amish lived.

So far, Shandell was committed to working for the Jordans through the summer. After that, she wasn’t sure, but she was glad to have options. Zoey kept saying that she hoped Shandell would stay on, and Dylan had steered her toward a community college in Lancaster County that would let her make up her missed high school classes in the fall. Shandell liked the Jordans, but she didn’t want to make them surrogate parents; if she stayed on, it would be as an employee, earning her keep. “You’re at a crossroads in your life, with many choices to make,” Dylan had told her. “And just because you choose one direction doesn’t mean you can’t change your mind. Go forth. Make mistakes and learn from them. The path is yours. Just keep moving ahead.”

The van was easy to drive, although the logo “Halfway to Heaven Inn” painted on the door was a little embarrassing. It was nearly
lunchtime, and Shandell was thinking about stopping at the diner for fries on her way through Halfway.

She sang along with a song on the radio, glad to be in an air-conditioned car on this hot, sunny day. Tate had sent her to the hardware store in Paradise for a special plumbing wrench that would fix the leak in the third-floor bathroom.

As the van sailed down a hill toward a farm stand, she pressed the brake to slow down and wave. It was the farm stand that she had stopped in with Gary, all those weeks ago; the one where he had stolen a flat of flowers and a couple of jars of pie filling. That had been the dawning moment, the moment when she had realized that he was a thief and that he had no intention of taking her home.

The two girls working the stand waved back, the white strings of their prayer kapps blowing in the breeze. She recognized Bethany and Ruthie King, Rachel’s sister and cousin. She had met them last week when she’d come to the stand with money from her first week’s pay at the inn. That had been weird. So embarrassing to explain that she’d been with that loser Gary when he stole their stuff.

But the girls had been so nice about it. They’d heard that Gary had been caught. And they knew who Shandell was. “My sister talks about you all the time,” Bethany had said. “She’s Rachel King.”

Well, that had really blown Shandell away. Small world.

Heat waves shimmered over the black asphalt as the van rose up another hill. It was a hot one out there!

She had just cracked open a bottle of Gatorade in the cup holder when she came upon the horse and cart listing on the side of the road. Something was wrong with one of the wheels, and the cart tilted toward the cornfield. That didn’t look good.

Hitting the brake, she slowed the van and pulled over. “Hey, there. Need some help?”

That was when she noticed the Amish man. He was wearing a
black suit and straw hat, and he bent over, gripping the edge of the cart, as if he’d been vomiting.