Restless Hearts (7 page)

He didn't follow her. Well, she hadn't expected him to. He'd made it clear from the beginning whose side he was on in this standoff with her mother's family. She needn't imagine he'd change because of some vagrant bits of attraction between them.

By the time she reached the food stand, she'd managed to let go of whatever irritation she felt toward
Ted and refocused her attention on what she hoped to buy today. A nightstand would be nice, and she could fit that in the back of the car. She tried to picture how it would look in her bedroom, next to the new bed.

The steaming hot chocolate smelled even better than coffee, and she took a large cup. One sip sent warmth surging through her, chasing away the late-October chill.

She'd just started back around the barn when she heard the sound of rushing feet behind her. Before she could turn they'd raced past her—three or four teenage boys, brushing so close they jostled the cup, splashing hot chocolate over her hand. Judging by the muffled laughter she heard as they disappeared around the barn, that was what they'd intended.

Annoyed, she fumbled in her bag for a tissue to mop the chocolate from her hand and wrist. A splash had hit the sleeve of her jacket, but it wasn't bad. The boys had judged it nicely. They'd bumped her just enough to bother her, but not enough that she'd go seek out the law.

The odd thing was that, although three of the four had been typically clad in jeans and expensive sneakers, their jackets emblazoned with the emblem of the local high school, one, slighter and smaller, had been Amish. That was a strange combination, she would think.

Now she had a soggy tissue, but there was a large plastic trash bin at the corner of the barn. She dropped the tissue in. Well, no harm done. She rounded the corner, still feeling distracted after the odd encounter,
barely looking where she was going, and stopped, face-to-face with her aunt Emma and her grandmother.

For an instant they froze, too, obviously just as shocked as she was. Then, with a quick movement, her grandmother turned her face away, the brim of the black bonnet effectively hiding her face. Emma did the same. And they walked off.

Fiona stood stock-still. The spray of hot chocolate had been nothing compared to this. She felt as if she'd just been doused with an entire bucketful of ice water. If she'd wondered how they'd react to seeing her, she certainly knew now.

F
iona was straightening the exam room after her last appointment of the day when she heard the bell jingle over the front door. Maybe a new client? She walked quickly through to the reception room. Standing uncertainly near the door was Rachel Stolzfus, and behind her was a young Amish boy.

For an instant Fiona felt as she had the previous Saturday at the auction—first icily frozen, and then scalded with hot embarrassment at the public snub. She forced her emotions under control. These were two kids, hardly responsible for what their elders had done.

“Rachel. How nice to see you.” She had to tread carefully. “But I suspect you shouldn't be here.”

Rachel's pink cheeks turned even pinker, but she shook her head, her bonnet ties fluttering. “No, it is all right, Cousin Fiona. Really.” She pulled the boy forward. “This is my little brother, Levi. He is almost thirteen.”

Levi looked like every other Amish boy she'd seen—blond hair in a bowl cut under his cap, round blue eyes that stared at her solemnly, rosy cheeks, and clothes that were a smaller replica of what his father would wear. He looked younger than the average twelve-year-old, but that was probably the inevitable difference in clothes and hairstyle.

“Hi, Levi. It's good to meet you.” Fiona smiled at them.

He nodded, not speaking, and his gaze swept around the room, taking in the braided rug on the floor, the straight-backed, padded chairs, racks of mother-to-be magazines and the small television that played quietly in the corner.

Well, maybe it was better not to give him too much attention. Levi was obviously shy of his strange new cousin, and Rachel had probably dragged him along on this visit. Fiona turned back to the girl.

“Are you sure you should be here? I don't want to get you into any trouble.”

But Rachel was already shaking her head again. “Aunt Emma brought us with her. She has some work to do at Ruth's. She told us she would be busy for an hour, and we should find something to do. She knew we would come here.” Rachel beamed. “So, you see, it makes no trouble.”

In other words, Emma had given the kids tacit approval to do what she wouldn't. Or couldn't. Fiona wasn't sure how she felt about that, but again, she couldn't take that out on the kids.

She slipped out of her lab coat and hung it on the coatrack. “Come back to the kitchen. I think it's about time for a snack.”

Levi glanced from the television to Rachel. She shook her head.

“Levi would like to stay here and watch the television, if that's all right, while we have a sit-down talk.”

“That's fine.” She didn't suppose a half hour of daytime television could do him much harm, and the game show that was on seemed fairly innocuous.

She led the way back to the kitchen, taking a mental inventory of her snack provisions. Probably not much there that would appeal to them.

“How about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” She glanced at Rachel. “I haven't had a chance to get to the store lately.”

“Levi would love it.” Rachel took her bonnet off and patted her hair. “Maybe you and I would share one?”

“That sounds good.”

Fiona got the makings out quickly, slicing the loaf of brown bread that one of today's clients had brought and getting out the peanut butter and a jar of strawberry preserves Miriam had given her. One thing about working here—she certainly wasn't going to starve, with all the gifts of food that were being pressed on her.

Rachel took the plate with one sandwich from her hand. “I will take it to Levi.”

Wondering a bit, Fiona looked after the girl as she
slipped out of the kitchen. It seemed fairly obvious that Rachel wanted a private talk. But about what?

Rachel was back quickly, sliding into the chair opposite Fiona at the round kitchen table. Her spotless apron and deep cherry-colored dress seemed to fit well with the simple aspect of the pine table.

“This is nice, Cousin Fiona.”

“Yes, it is.” And what is on your agenda, Rachel?

Rachel stared down at the sandwich, not eating it. “Cousin Fiona, will you tell me something?”

“If I can,” she replied, wary of promising anything she might not be able to deliver.

Rachel's gaze met hers. “Will you tell me how your mother died?”

For a moment Fiona couldn't speak. That was certainly the last question she'd expected from her young cousin. She swallowed hard.

“Doesn't the family know that?”

Rachel shook her head. “Only that she is dead. That was all my grandfather ever heard about her after she left Crossroads.”

She blinked. “But he could have found out more. If he'd wanted to know.”

Bitterness twisted. He could have found out about me, that was what she really wanted to say.

“That is not the Amish way, you see. Accept what happens as God's will. Don't question. That is our belief.”

“But you do question, don't you, Rachel?” She'd glimpsed a bright, inquiring mind in this young cousin.

Rachel shrugged. “I try not to. But I see our grandmother's sorrow, and I wonder if it might have been eased if she'd known more.”

“Maybe you're right.” She took a breath to release the tightness is her throat. “My father only ever told me that my mother died after I was born. When I was old enough, I found out more for myself.”

“You needed to know,” Rachel said.

She nodded, trying to frame the words. This was harder than she'd thought. “Apparently she never adjusted to being away from here. She was sad, crying a lot. After I was born, she developed an infection while she was still in the hospital. The doctor I spoke with said that she just seemed to give up. I guess she didn't want to live.”

Even for me, the little voice in the back of her mind said. Even for me.

Rachel's warm, strong fingers wrapped around hers. “I'm sorry. Sorry that you never knew her. That your father had all the care of you.”

She shook her head. “My father couldn't take care of me. He put me in foster care.”

“Foster care.” Rachel frowned. “That is when a relative takes care of the children if the parents can't.”

Maybe in Rachel's world that was what happened. “We didn't have any relatives in California. I was placed with strangers, not family.”

Judging from Rachel's expression, that concept was beyond her understanding. Her blue eyes were wide, protesting.

“I was well taken care of,” she went on quickly. “After my father remarried, I went to live with him.”

“And then you were happy.” Rachel obviously wanted a happy ending to the story. “You have brothers and sisters, a real family of your own.”

The innocent words hurt, but she wouldn't let Rachel see that. “One brother, two sisters. They're quite a bit younger than I.”

Rachel nodded sagely. “I know what that is like. Levi, he wishes to follow me everywhere, as if it is time for his rumspringa, not mine.”

Fiona smiled, relieved the subject had moved away from her parents. “He probably envies you.”

“He must wait until he is older.” Rachel sounded severe. “He doesn't yet have good judgment to make decisions.” Her smile sparkled suddenly. “Tell me about college. You went to college, yes?”

“Yes. I went to college to study nursing. And after that, to become a midwife. It was hard work, but fun, too.”

“You lived in a dormitory, with other girls, and went out on dates.” Rachel happily constructed the life she thought Fiona should have had. “And you have traveled?”

She opened her mouth to talk about her summer at a mission in South America and closed it again, remembering Ted's misgivings about exposing Rachel to the outer world. It wasn't her place to make Rachel long for a different life, even if it might seem natural to her.

Natural to her, yes. But would such a life really be any happier? She didn't know the answer to that.

“A little,” she said evasively. “Mostly I studied. And then I worked at a birthing clinic in San Francisco before I came here.”

Rachel nodded. “I understand. You became a midwife because of what happened to Hannah.”

“I—I don't know.” She didn't. She'd have said she barely thought of the mother she'd never known, but maybe the longing had been lurking in her heart all the time. “Tell me, is our grandmother all right?”

Rachel gazed down at the table. “I think she is. But I heard my father and mother talk of the time after Hannah left, when she lay on her bed and cried until my grandfather took her to the special doctor in Suffolk and she had to be in the hospital for a long time.”

Here was something she hadn't imagined. So, her grandmother had had a depression severe enough to require hospitalization. Maybe their grandfather feared that Fiona's appearance might cause a recurrence.

Rachel glanced at the clock over the stove and exclaimed something in German, jumping to her feet. “We are past our time. We must meet Aunt Emma.”

She whirled, enveloping Fiona in a quick, hard hug before rushing out to the other room and calling Levi's name.

Fiona followed, but they were already out the door by the time she got there. She stared absently at the cartoon on the television and the empty plate on the coffee table.

Rachel had come looking for answers to satisfy her own curiosity about what must seem to her a family
secret. She'd left Fiona with enough food for thought to last her a good long time.

 

Late-afternoon sunlight gave the main street of Crossroads a golden haze. In the distance, Ted could smell a faint whiff of burning leaves, a sure sign of autumn. Crossroads seemed to doze on weekday afternoons, but the weekend would bring its influx of tourists.

And its share of traffic issues. If he was lucky, the only problem would be a fender bender caused by some fool driver gawking at an Amish buggy instead of watching where he was going.

Ted turned into the minuscule office that was all the township could afford for its small police force. If he weren't lucky, the weekend would see more thefts or vandalism. So far the problem had been more annoying than serious, but it rankled that he hadn't been able to lay his hands on the culprits yet. He was here to protect, and he didn't like failure.

At least Fiona no longer seemed to need his help. He didn't begrudge any single moment he'd spent with her, but it was probably best for both of them not to let their friendship become any more than what it was. There were too many complications inherent in that sort of relationship.

He flipped briefly through the report filed by one of his part-time officers. Jerry Fuller aspired to be a big-city detective, and his reports managed to make a lost cat sound like a major felony.

He hadn't seen Fiona since the auction, but he'd heard this and that. Her practice was picking up, apparently, although the Amish hadn't yet fully accepted her. Maybe somebody should have warned her that building a clientele among the Amish took a decade or two.

And her relationship with the Stolzfus family probably complicated matters for her, with people unwilling to take sides between her and her grandparents. He regretted that, but there was nothing he could do. It was past time for him to back off.

He'd just poured himself a mug of coffee when he heard the door open. He swung around to see Fiona standing there, lingering in the doorway as if unsure of her welcome.

He'd have to do something about that rush of pleasure he felt at the sight of her. “Fiona. Come in. Can I help you with something?”

“So this is where you hang out.” She glanced around the tiny office, as if interested in the crumbling cork bulletin board that bore community notices and the white board that listed staff assignments. “If you turn around too fast, you'll trip over yourself.”

The way she evaded his question told him she did, indeed, want something—something she was reluctant to bring up. Well, that was okay. Plenty of people who came in here just needed a bit of patience to bring out their troubles.

“That's why I try not to make any sudden moves.”
He gestured toward his one and only visitor's chair. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks.” She drifted to the white board. “Just how big is the Crossroads police force? I guess a resident like me ought to know that.”

“You're looking at the full-time force.” He perched on the edge of his desk, bringing himself to her level. “I have two part-time officers now, and usually we add another one in the summer. No dispatcher—if someone calls after I go off-duty, the call comes right to my cell phone.”

“In other words, you're never really off duty.” She sat, finally, her back very straight.

He shrugged. “That's how I like it.”

“It's very different from Chicago.” Her gaze slid away from his, as if she regretted expressing so much interest. “You mentioned you'd started in police work there.”