Amish Country Box Set: Restless Hearts\The Doctor's Blessing\Courting Ruth (14 page)

“Maybe so, but it was you. You were there for her. You went out of your way to stay with her and comfort her. People admire that.”

Some emotion crossed his stolid face, but it was gone again so quickly that she wasn’t sure what it was. Do you admire that, Ted?

“Even so—” she began, but he stopped the words by touching her hand. For a moment she couldn’t think clearly enough to say anything.

“Let people appreciate you.” The normally low timbre of his voice went even deeper. “Don’t turn away from that, Fiona.”

Was he talking about the inhabitants of Crossroads? Or about himself? If she had the courage to ask him that, what would he say?

“Ted Rittenhouse, are you just going to stand there like a moonstruck calf or are you going to hitch my horse?” a female voice complained behind them.

Fiona spun around, heat rushing to her cheeks. Her cousin Rachel leaned forward on the buggy seat, reins in her hands, blue eyes sparkling. Neither of them had even heard the buggy approach.

Rachel looked from Fiona to Ted with a satisfied smile, as if she enjoyed knowing she’d startled them.

Ted straightened, unhurried. “Since you ask so nicely, Miss Rachel, I’d be happy to give you a hand.” He wrapped the line Rachel tossed him around the porch railing. The horse dropped its head and began munching the narrow strip of grass next to the steps.

“Rachel, it’s nice to see you.” And unexpected. She hadn’t seen anything of her young cousin in days. “Can you come in?”

“I can stay only for a minute. I am on an errand.” Rachel hopped down lightly from the high seat, ignoring the hand Ted held out to her. She came up the steps to Fiona, excitement dancing in her pert face.

Ted patted the mare’s neck. “Just how fast were you coming down the road, young lady? Bessie’s all sweated up.”

Rachel made a face at him. “Not nearly so fast as the cars do.”

For an instant Fiona saw the mangled buggy again, and heard Miriam’s sobs. A shiver she couldn’t control went through her. “You should be careful out on the road.”

“I can be nothing but careful, with pokey old Bessie between the shafts.” She caught Fiona’s hand. “You will never guess why I have come.”

“If she won’t guess, Rachel, you’d best come right out and tell her,” Ted said. “It’s not polite to tease.”

Rachel’s fingers tightened on hers. “Our grandfather has asked me to come to see you. You are invited to
supper on Saturday evening. The whole family will be there. You’ll come, won’t you?”

She couldn’t respond. An invitation to supper with her mother’s family was the last thing she’d expected after weeks of being ignored.

“You will come, won’t you?” Rachel repeated, worry darkening her blue eyes. “I said for sure you would come if we asked you. Please, Cousin Fiona.”

How could she resist Rachel’s enthusiasm? “Of course I’ll come. I appreciate the invitation.”

And even if she never saw them again after this one night, at least she’d have had a glimpse of what her mother had come from. Maybe that would ease the restlessness within her.

Rachel let out her breath in a whoosh of relief. “That is good. And Ted is invited, too, so there will be someone else you know.” She gave Ted a teasing glance. “You won’t mind that, will you?”

* * *

Fiona paced across the waiting room Saturday evening, glancing out the bow windows for a glimpse of Ted. Were the dark skirt and blazer she wore suitable for supper with her mother’s conservative Amish kin? She hadn’t any idea.

Up to this point, when she’d gone into an Amish home, it had been in her professional capacity, and she hadn’t thought much of what she wore. This evening was different.

She could have asked Ted’s advice about what to
wear, but she’d been too embarrassed after that episode with Rachel—especially the girl’s obvious enjoyment at teasing her and Ted about their friendship. Friendship, not relationship—she wouldn’t admit to anything serious. Not yet.

Did the entire township recognize the attraction they held for each other? If so, she could just imagine the talk. She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself.

The familiar response welled up in her. Walk away. Pretend it didn’t happen. Pretend you don’t care. That way no one can hurt you.

But the old way of reacting wasn’t working for her any longer. She actually felt like taking a risk—on Ted, on her mother’s family—even knowing she could get hurt. Maybe God had led her to a situation where she had to change and where the reward for change might be greater than she’d ever dared to hope.

She glanced at her watch. Ted had said he’d pick her up, but no cars were in sight, only one Amish buggy coming down the road. It pulled to a stop in front of her steps. Ted held the reins.

This was the last thing she’d expected, and it took a moment to recognize the feeling in the pit of her stomach as apprehension. Grabbing her handbag, she went quickly out the door and down the steps.

Ted jumped down as she approached. Wearing dark pants and a light-blue shirt, he looked as if he’d dressed to blend in, if not to match. She straightened her jacket.

Was she only imagining it, or did his blue eyes soften when he looked at her?

“I hope you don’t mind.” He gestured toward the buggy. “I borrowed this from my brother. I thought you might enjoy seeing how your relatives travel.”

She tried to block out the image of the overturned buggy. “That’s nice of you.”

“Sorry.” He apparently understood what she didn’t say. “That was stupid of me. After the accident—well, it will just take a few minutes to go back and get the car.”

He started to turn, and she stopped him with a quick touch on the arm. At least, she intended it to be quick, but somehow her hand lingered at the sensation of warmth and strength under the smooth cotton of the shirtsleeve.

“Don’t. It’s all right.” She pulled her hand away, confused by the rush of feelings. “You’re right. I would like to experience riding in a buggy.” She glanced up at the step. “Rachel hops up and down so handily that I didn’t realize it was that high. In this skirt—”

“Not to worry.” He grasped her waist, the movement taking her breath away. “I’ll help you.” He lifted her easily.

She grasped the edge of the seat and pulled herself into place, hoping he couldn’t see the flush she was sure colored her cheeks. “Thank you.”

He paused for a moment, hand braced against the buggy, looking up at her. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Positive.” She managed a smile. “I want to understand how my mother lived. I think it will help me make sense of who I am.”

He nodded, then walked quickly around the back of the vehicle and swung himself up easily. He picked up the reins with a sureness that reminded her that this had been part of his life, too, for a long time.

Could he ever leave that fully behind? Not living here, certainly. She’d think, having made the decision, that he’d want to be as far as possible from reminders of what he’d given up. Or had he come back out of lingering feelings for Emma? He hadn’t given her any sense of that when she’d seen them together.

He clucked to the horse, and they moved off. The swaying of the high seat sent her off balance. She grasped the seat with one hand and pulled her skirt down with the other.

“Don’t worry,” Ted said. “You’re dressed fine.”

“Really?” She was ashamed of her need for reassurance. “I don’t want to offend anyone.”

“You won’t. They’re used to being around the English.”

The English. The outsider. Well, she knew that role. She could cope. But what was Ted thinking about this invitation?

She glanced at him. The setting sun brought out glints of gold in his hair, gilding his tanned skin. The ease with which his body moved to accommodate the shifts of the buggy, the strength of his hands, holding the reins—she felt her attraction for him growing with each—well, maybe she’d better get the conversation moving.

“Are you okay with this? I mean, you’ve tried so
hard to protect my grandparents from being hurt by my presence.”

He shrugged, frowning at the horse’s back. “Maybe I was wrong to interfere. In any event, they’ve taken it out of my hands now.”

It wasn’t exactly a rousing vote of confidence, but it would have to do. “Have you heard anything about why they’ve changed their attitude?”

“I’ve always heard something, you know that.” He smiled. “Apparently Emma and Rachel have been encouraging your grandmother to see you.”

A frisson of apprehension slid down her spine. “I don’t want to cause problems for her. What if seeing me brings back all her grief for her daughter?”

Ted grasped her hand firmly. “Don’t overanalyze it, Fiona. She’s asked for you. I don’t see how you can do anything else but go.”

The warmth from his hand traveled up her arm. “I guess I’m feeling protective of her, too.”

He grinned. “There’s a lot of that going around.”

“You should know. I’ve never met anyone with a stronger protective sense.” She swayed with the movement of the buggy, beginning to sense the rhythm of it.

“That’s the police motto. To serve and protect.” His tone was light, but there was a thread of something darker underneath it.

“People appreciate that,” she said, wondering if appreciate was the right word.

His shoulders moved. “I guess. Amish folks might
not exactly approve of my profession, but at least they trust me. And I know I can trust them.”

Emotion colored the words; they reached out and clutched her heart. This was important to him, maybe the most important thing.

“Is that why you came back to Crossroads? Because you could trust the people here?”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment she thought he’d tell her to mind her own business. Then he shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe I just realized I didn’t belong in a big-city police force and never would.”

“You were pretty young when you went there, weren’t you?” She was feeling her way, trying to get at the source of all that suppressed emotion.

“Young. And naive.” He gave a short laugh, but it didn’t sound as if he found anything very humorous. “Talk about hayseed—I’m surprised I didn’t literally have hay in my hair.”

“That must have made it tough for you at the police academy.” She tried to picture that young Amish farm boy thrown in with a bunch of tough cops. She couldn’t quite reconcile that boy with the man he was now.

“I was the butt of every joke, believe me. I grew up in a hurry. I had to.” He shrugged. “Things got better after a while. I still felt like a fish out of water, but I made some friends. It helped that I was doing what I really wanted to do.” He glanced at her. “You know what that’s like. If you’re doing the work you know you’re created to do, that makes up for a lot.”

“Yes.” Her voice choked a little. How was it that he seemed to see things in her that other people didn’t, like the pain of trying to fit in? Maybe because he’d been through it, too. “So you started work as a Chicago cop.”

“Saw things I’d never seen before, that’s for sure.” His jaw tightened. “Things I’d rather not see. Still, I had a good partner, an older cop who showed me the ropes. I’d have been lost without Steve.”

“But something went wrong.” She just seemed to know, the way he knew things about her. They turned into a lane, and she grasped the seat railing as she swayed against him. “What was it?”

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the clouds with red and purple, as if it wanted to linger a bit longer.

“Went wrong. That’s a nice way of putting it.” His hands must have tightened on the reins, because the horse tossed its head. “We were in on a drug bust, a big one. Guess I was proud of my role in that. It seemed as if I was finally getting where I wanted to be.”

He was silent for a moment, seeming to study the stubble of corn in the fields on either side of the road. She didn’t speak, knowing there was more but afraid to push.

Finally he sighed. “Some of the drugs went missing. The investigation showed there weren’t many people who’d had access to them. Internal Affairs got an anonymous tip that I was the one.”

“But you—they couldn’t accuse you on the basis of an anonymous tip.”

“They didn’t accuse me, exactly. I was suspended, pending investigation. It never occurred to me that anyone I knew could think I’d do something like that. I found out I was wrong. Everyone believed it. Even my partner.” He paused. “Especially my partner.” Bitterness laced the words.

“He was the one?” She barely breathed the words, her heart hurting for the pain and betrayal he’d suffered.

He nodded. “The truth came out, eventually. He was arrested. I was cleared. But it was never the same after that.”

“The others must have tried to make things right with you.”

“They did.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t blame them, I guess. But they hadn’t trusted me, and I’d found out that I couldn’t trust them.”

“So you came home.”

“I learned that trust was the one thing I couldn’t live without. So I came home.”

“As hard as it was,” Fiona said softly. “It brought you back here, where you belong.”

He didn’t react for a moment, long enough for her to wish she’d said something else. Then he actually chuckled, putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her closer against him. She could feel the laugh moving in his midsection.

“I never thought I’d say this, but you remind me of my brother Jacob.”

She pictured the Amish carpenter. “I do?”

“The one and only time we talked about what happened to me in Chicago, he said pretty much the same thing. He said it reminded him of the story of Joseph.”

She blinked. “You mean Joseph in the Old Testament? I guess he did have some grief over not being trusted.”

“True, but that’s not what my brother was thinking about. He reminded me that even when he was betrayed by those he’d loved, Joseph could still forgive. And he could say that even though they’d meant what they did for evil, God meant it for good.” He snuggled her closer to his side. “I didn’t see it that way at first, but I’ve come to think Jacob was right.”

She nodded, thinking of her own favorite verse. “I try to believe that ‘in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him.’ Sometimes it’s not easy.”