Hearse and Buggy (13 page)

Or, at least, most did.

Jakob was an exception.

She followed the finely graveled road as it wound to the left and headed down into a valley of farmland, the peace and tranquility of her rapidly approaching surroundings
allowing a sense of true contentment to seep in past the worry she’d felt lapping at her heart all day long.

So much of what was weighing her down really wasn’t her concern. Yet, because it affected people she cared about on some level or another, she simply couldn’t shirk it away. It was the way she was, the way she’d always been. And it was why the whitewashed world she’d been living in for so many years prior to coming to Heavenly never truly fit.

A slow
clip-clop
just over her left shoulder made her stop and turn, her hand instinctively rising to block out the last of the evening’s rays.

“Good evening, Miss Weatherly. May I offer you a ride to wherever it is you are going?”

She stepped into the shadow of the buggy as it stopped beside her, the now-clear view of the driver and his knee-weakening blue eyes making her wish for a fan or a sudden acceleration to the breeze that cooled her face. “Hi, Benjamin. I … I appreciate the offer but I’m not really going anywhere in particular.”

His brows furrowed beneath his black hat. “Oh?”

“I guess my brain just needs a break from work. I didn’t even really know where I was going until I locked up the shop and my feet took me in this direction.”

Benjamin looked down the road stretched out before them, the brim of his hat shielding the sun from his view. “But there is nothing this way except Amish land.”

She followed his field of vision and felt the last of the day’s tension disappear from her body. “I know. That’s why I’m going this way.”

His gaze left his people’s land and focused again on her. “I do not understand.”

Inhaling deeply, she tried to verbalize what Benjamin’s
lifestyle did for her, how it made her feel alive and hopeful. “Very often, a person has a place he or she likes to go to regroup. To relax. To think. I’ve come to realize that this place”—she stretched her arms in front of her—“does that for me.”

For a moment she was afraid she’d said something stupid, something he didn’t understand or maybe even found silly, but after a long pause he proved differently. “I have such a place.”

She wasn’t sure why his admission surprised her, but it did. Somehow, she’d assumed a person living such a simple, uncluttered life wouldn’t need a place to reflect or regroup. Then again, he was human. Just like she was.

“Perhaps if I show you such a place, you will like it as well?” he asked, surprising her still further.

Shifting from one foot to the other, she stared up at Benjamin, dumbfounded by both the suggestion and the notion that such a quiet man, whom she’d just met, would make such a generous overture in her direction.

“Are you sure? Don’t you have to get home for your meal?” It was a fair question, based largely on Amish traditions she’d learned about from Esther.

He let the reins slacken as he reached up and tipped the brim of his hat upward just a bit. “I live alone and, at times, dine alone.”

And, just like that, she was transported back to Martha’s home and the unexpected news that Benjamin Miller was a widower. Suddenly, this quiet man’s need for a place to ponder life made perfect sense.

“If you have the time and you’d like to share your special place with me, I’d be honored. Truly.” Reaching up, she grabbed hold of the buggy’s edge and lifted herself onto the
seat beside him, the beat of her heart vacillating between fast and slow. “Thank you.”

With a slight nod of his head, Benjamin jiggled the reins, prompting the horse to resume his previous pace, the
clip-clop
of his hooves lessening the severity of their sudden silence. She looked to her right, and then her left, the farmland she’d viewed from her car window not more than three days earlier more alluring than ever.

“When I was out here the other day, the fields were filled with people working. And now … they’re so quiet.”

“The workday is over.”

It was such a simple sentence, yet, after spending nearly five years with a man who was either not around to talk or dominated the conversation when he was, she found it more than a little refreshing.

She pulled her focus off the scenery and fixed it, instead, on Benjamin. “What do the Amish do once the evening meal is over?”

“We visit with family. In the summer months, we sit on the porch.”

She leaned her head against the side of the buggy and peered out at the first home they passed, a modest white farmhouse with several clotheslines and a wide front porch. “That sounds nice.”

“What do the English do?”

“At my aunt’s, where I live, we visit in the parlor. We talk about our day, discuss books we are reading, and enjoy our guests.”

“Guests?” The horse and buggy continued down the road, passing one farmhouse and then the other.

She nodded. “My aunt owns Sleep Heavenly at the English end of Lighted Way. It’s a bed-and-breakfast. People
who stay there come from all over the country, and, sometimes, their stories of home allow us to experience places we’ve never been.”

“Do you like that?” he asked as he cast a sidelong glance in her direction, his deep blue eyes lingering momentarily on her face.

“I like getting to know people. I like learning about them.”

“Do you let them learn about you?”

The question caught her up short, its depth not something she would have expected from any man, much less one who was Amish. “I … I don’t know. I think I listen more than I talk.”

With the barely perceptible tug of his hand, Benjamin steered the horse and buggy to the left, taking them up a long climbing hill and through a one-lane covered bridge and out the other side. Where the road narrowed still further and wound off into the woods, he pulled to a stop and swept his hand to the right. “We are here.”

She peeked out the side of the buggy and sucked in her breath, the lush green fields of the Amish stretched out before them as the sun began its descent. “Oh, Benjamin. It’s beautiful.”

The outer edges of his mouth spread outward, and he nodded his head ever so slightly in agreement. “I come here when I am troubled. As I am about Eli.” Releasing the reins, he stepped down from the buggy before crossing around to the other side and offering Claire his hand.

Unsure of what to do, she shyly deposited her hand in his and vacated her seat, walking alongside him until they reached a large, flat boulder. “Is Eli alright?”

“He has a temper. He does not always do as he should.”

“But he has a good heart.” She perched on the edge of
the rock and looked out over land that Benjamin himself farmed each day. “He keeps a close watch on your sister, helping her in whatever ways he can. He is polite and kind.”

“He has been shunned many times.” Benjamin leaned against the rock and glanced down at his hands, his tone hard to read. “He always repents and always forgets.”

“He’s still young, Benjamin.”

“Not that young.” He met her gaze and held it for a few beats. “People form opinions of a man. Those who are respected and trusted are looked to for guidance. Those who are not are seen differently.”

She weighed his words against the facts as of late. “Are you afraid this talk surrounding Walter Snow’s death will affect people’s perception of your brother?”

“I do not know how to protect him from himself. Yet it is hard to wash my hands of him. He is my brother.”

“Why would you wash your hands of him?”

“His action brings shame, and now it may bring heartache to friends.”

She looked a question at him, the answer coming before a single word ever left her mouth. “Is it so wrong for Esther and Martha to come in contact with Jakob?”

“Yes.”

“But he loves them,” she insisted.

“Jakob made his choice.”

“And he’s made the choice to come back.”

“He can never come back.” The statement, while simple, reverberated around them with heartbreaking finality.

“Do you think that’s fair?” she finally asked.

“It is our way.”

She considered telling him his way was wrong but let it go. It wasn’t her right to judge someone else’s beliefs, someone else’s way of living. Instead, she said the only thing she
could. “Walter Snow was found behind my shop, mere feet from the alley between your sister’s bakery and my shop. Jakob will need to ask questions of English and Amish alike. It is his job. But if I can help as some sort of middleman, I’m happy to do so.”

“That is very kind.”

She looked off into the distance and tried to pick out Lighted Way, the lines of the shops and the lampposts working their familiar magic on her heart. “I love being here, in Heavenly. And I love this spot, too. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“I found it after my wife passed on.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It was God’s will.”

“Can you remarry? Is that allowed?” The words were barely through her lips before she was shaking her head at her insensitivity. “I’m sorry. I had no right to ask that.”

“I can,” he replied softly. “I do not know if I will.”

All she could do was nod. “My aunt Diane says that anything is possible if you simply open your heart to everything and everyone around you. I’m not sure I always believe that, but I certainly think it’s worth a try.”

Feeling the intensity of his eyes as he studied her from the side, she smiled and looked away, her mind a swirl of thoughts she couldn’t quite pin down. Life was confusing no matter how you lived. The Amish had worries just like everyone else. Yet, somehow, the dawning of that reality held little comfort.

I
t was close to eight o’clock when Benjamin dropped her off at Sleep Heavenly, the melodic
clip-clop
of the horse’s hooves fairly successful at drowning out the occasional rumble of hunger from one or both of their stomachs.

“I had nice time, Miss Weatherly.”

“Claire, please,” she reminded as she stepped down off the buggy and turned to face him once again. “Thank you for such a nice evening.”

“Was the spot good?”

She grinned. “That spot was spectacular; the company even better.”

He glanced down at the reins in his hand, a slight flush of his face barely visible in the decreasing light of day. “Yes. It was.”

She felt the answering warmth in her own face. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come in? I’m sure Aunt Diane has some leftovers from dinner we could eat.”

Benjamin shook his head. “I am home each night. I must check in with Eli and Ruth so they do not worry.”

“Then please tell them I said hello.” She lifted her hand to wave, then pulled it back down when the buggy remained in the same spot. “Is something wrong?”

“I can not leave until you are inside.”

“Oh, then I guess I’ll say goodnight.” She turned toward the inn and made her way up the sidewalk, the answering swish of the curtain in the front hallway window catching her by surprise, first pausing and then quickening her step to the door. When she reached her destination, she offered one final wave to Benjamin Miller and then stepped inside, anxious to put a face to the unidentified snoop.

But there was no one there.

Slowly, Claire worked her way out from the window in question, peeking into various corners and nesting spots sprinkled around the inn. Her first human sighting, though, didn’t come until she was in the kitchen off the back of the sprawling Victorian home. She took in her aunt’s soapy hands and the stack of dishes in the drainer and announced her presence, earning herself a curious smile in response.

“Where did you disappear to this evening, dear?”

Claire plucked an apple from the fruit bowl and a dish towel from the rack and headed over to dry. “I went for a walk after work only to have it turn into a buggy ride.”

Her aunt’s left eyebrow rose upward. “Oh?”

She took a quick bite of her apple and then set it on the counter, her stomach gurgling in protest. “I just got back a minute ago.” Reaching for a plate, she ran the dish towel around the outer edges and worked her way toward the center. “You wouldn’t have any idea who might have been watching me from the front hallway, would you?”

“Watching you?” her aunt echoed before extracting the
plate and the towel from Claire’s hands and gesturing toward the apple with her chin. “This is your night off, remember?”

“You don’t get a night off.”

“Because this is my business, not yours.” Diane stared at the apple until Claire picked it up and took another bite. “As for your question, I can’t imagine who would have been in the hallway just now. Arnie is upstairs working on his thesis.”

“And the lovebirds?” she asked playfully.

“Not standing in a hallway watching you, I’m quite certain.” Diane finished wiping the dish Claire had started and set it on the counter to the right of the dish drainer. “Perhaps it was our new guest.”

She paused midbite and studied her aunt. “So where is this one from?”

“Here.”

“You mean Pennsylvania?”

Diane grabbed the next dish and added it to the growing dry stack with quiet efficiency. “No, here as in Heavenly.”

“Heavenly? Why on earth would someone stay here if they live in Heavenly?” She winced at her choice of words and did her best to lessen any sting they may have caused. “Wait. I don’t mean it like that. I mean, I can’t imagine anyone
not
wanting to stay here, but isn’t that kind of wasting money when you already live in the same town?”

“She’s staying here to get away from the memories, I guess.”

Claire opened her mouth to speak only to shut it at the sound of tapping on the kitchen door. Tossing the dish towel atop the stack of clean dishes, Diane crossed the kitchen and pushed the swinging door open to reveal a familiar face.

Only the Nellie Snow standing less than twenty feet away seemed much different than the Nellie Snow who had
marched into Heavenly Treasures a few days earlier, demanding Jakob arrest Eli for the murder of her crooked husband.

Gone was the anger she’d spat through clenched teeth.