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Walker knew he needed to appreciate his gifts and talents, not try to step into things he had no control over and would only make worse. But he felt strongly about doing something meaningful. “But I could learn, right? I mean, I might not be the best at anything, but I'm reasonably smart. And I'm strong and healthy.”

His grandmother nodded. “Yes, of course, Walker. That is true . . .”

“Grandma, I came over here to tell you that I want to live with you for the next few months. I want to help with the farm, and I want to stay here with you so you won't be alone.”

His grandmother looked so worried about hurting his feelings, Lydia took pity on her and said what needed to be said. “Helping other farmers with their crops is our way, Walker. The men have plows and sturdy horses. I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to use a tractor or anything like that.”

“I know that. I didn't mention using a tractor.” Placing both of his palms flat on the table, he said, “Grandma, when do you expect the other men to come help?”

“In the next week or so.”

“Then when they get here, I'll ask them to let me join them. I can't imagine that they'd refuse my help.”

“Walker, there is no need—”

“I am considering becoming Amish, Grandma. I want to live here with you and help.”

His grandmother's eyes widened as her cheeks flushed. “I know your faith is mighty strong. And I know your willingness is true and honest . . .” Her voice drifted off, obviously struggling to put her doubts into words.

But Walker picked up on her words. “If my faith is strong, and I am willing to try my best to adjust . . . isn't that enough? Haven't you always said that God is looking out for us, that he never gives us burdens too big for us to handle?”

“I have said that. And I do believe that.”

Looking at Walker, Lydia felt tears prick her eyes. Before his grandmother could reply, she felt herself nodding. “You are right, Walker. Your faith is enough. Faith in the Lord is always enough.”

The room fell silent as both she and Walker turned to his grandmother. She, too, seemed incredibly touched by his faith—and his passion to do everything he could to help his grandparents.

With a trembling hand, she reached for his. “Thank you for reminding me about what is important. A true heart and a willingness to serve is all anyone really needs.”

Walker squeezed his grandmother's hand, then leaned back in his chair. “It's settled. I'm going to live here with you and farm.” He paused. “Just, ah, don't expect too much.”

“You're going to tell me that, after your pretty speech?”

His cheeks flushed. “You always have told me that I talk too much. I am now merely trying to keep your expectations low.”

Grandma Francis chuckled. “Don't you worry about that, Walker. You will soon find that the Amish men you work with won't expect much from you at all.”

Covering her mouth with her hands, Lydia hid a smile. She feared Walker's grandmother was exactly right.

Chapter 13

“If we had known what was eventually going to happen with Perry, we would have kept a closer eye on his comings and goings.”

B
ETH
A
NNE
B
ORNTRAGER

D
eborah, do you plan to see Jacob again tonight?” her mother asked from the doorway.

Deborah's hands froze as she wrung out the dress she'd been hand washing in the laundry tub. When had her mother approached? Had she been so deep in thought that she wasn't even aware of movement around her?

Or maybe she was so used to her mother keeping to herself that she hardly even listened to her anymore? “I have no idea. Are you upset? I was safe with Jacob.”

“I debated whether to tell your father about your meeting. But in the end, I let him know. It's best that he knows what you're doing, Deborah.”

Deborah didn't see the reason for that, but she refrained from arguing. “And what did he say?”

“Nothing much. Though we both agree that it is mighty dangerous to be out at night. A lot of terrible things could happen. It's not safe.”

“I was with Jacob,” Deborah reminded her needlessly. “I wasn't alone.”

“That's the only reason your father didn't speak to you about your outing.” She cleared her throat. “Jacob is a good man. To my knowledge he's never strayed.”

Shaking out the dress, Deborah slowly hung it up on the clothesline strung through the middle of the room. “I'm sorry you got worried. But like I told you, we weren't doing anything much. Just walking.”

“So what did you two do, besides walk?”

Her mother's questions sounded almost normal. Almost like she was her old self. It was disconcerting, and made her wary, too. She didn't know how much her mother could handle.

“Nothing, really. We started out talking about those days walking to school together. Next thing we knew, we were out at the old trail.” Taking a chance, she added, “It was fun, walking through the fields in the dark like that.”

Her mother's gaze turned sweet and affectionate. Almost girlish. “You've always liked Jacob, haven't you?”

Deborah wasn't sure how to answer that. Yes, she had always liked him. Until he'd been so mean to her that she'd wished she'd never see him again. “Jacob and I, we have a difficult relationship.”

Her mother chuckled. “
Jah,
I suppose it could be described that way.”

“I didn't get home too late.” Plunging her hands in the water, she pulled out another wet garment and wrung out the water. After, she shook her father's shirt, then set it on the side of her basket. All the while, she felt her mother's gaze rest on her. It was a bit unsettling—was she watching to make sure Deborah didn't make a mistake?

“Deborah, I wanted to tell you that I am sorry that I haven't been a better parent lately.”

Deborah sighed. She hadn't been any sort of parent, or mother. But Deborah didn't blame her. Any woman would have a hard time doing much if she'd lost a child. Besides, her mother's neglect wasn't all that unusual. In a lot of ways it felt like just another episode in a lifetime of being her parents' afterthought.

Perry had always come first. Whether that was good or bad ceased to matter. They'd become used to Perry's needs and wants always taking precedent.

“There is nothing you need to apologize for, Mother. I've been fine.” And she had been fine, she realized with some surprise. She'd found a job and had renewed relationships with her girlfriends.

She'd also taken care of as much as she could around the house. For months now, with the exception of her two weeks in Charm, she'd taken care of the laundry and the cooking. She'd dusted and cleaned and tried to be everything to everyone. In short, she'd grown up.

“Perhaps we could start spending more time together?”

Pleased, she smiled at her mother. “I would like that.”

“I would like that, too.” Looking satisfied with their conversation, she handed Deborah a towel. “I also think it's time for me to start living my life instead of passing each day in bed. Why don't you to let me finish the washing?”

“Mamm, there's no need. Besides, I'm almost done with it.”

“And that, child, is all the more reason to let me finish this chore. It's a small enough task that I should be able to handle it, even though I might be a little rusty.”

Impulsively, she gave her mother a hug, not even caring that she was likely getting her mother a little wet from her damp sleeves. It was simply so nice to have her back. “Mamm, being rusty is just fine with me. I'll take you any way I can have you.”

Lifting her chin a bit, her mom teared up, “You've always had me, Deborah. I'm sorry I haven't made sure you knew that. I . . . I shouldn't have neglected you like I did.”

There was no need for apologies. They'd all been dealing with their grief in their own ways. Her father had been working, her mother holed up in the comfort of a dark room. She'd found solace by reaching out to other people.

Who was to say that one way was better than the others? “Let's not apologize anymore. Let's just move forward.”

Her mother's face eased into a smooth relief. “I'd like that.”

After giving her mother a hug, Deborah left the washroom, then decided to walk to the store early.

She was halfway there when she spied Walker's truck parked in front of a coffee shop. He was standing with Jacob, and when they saw her, they motioned her over.

“I haven't looked at the schedule. Are you working today?” Jacob asked.

“
Jah.
You?”

Looking pained, he nodded. “Always. But listen, it's good we saw you. Look what I have for you.” He held out a paper shopping bag.

She peeked inside it and almost gasped. There was a cell phone. “Is this mine?”

“Yep. I just picked up Jacob and we've been charging it in my truck and entering in everyone's phone numbers,” Walker said.

After briefly showing her how to access the phone numbers, he said, “Now you're good to go, Deb.”

The phone symbolized so much to her: independence, trust from friends . . . and a bit of awareness that she was now challenging the rules that she'd always adhered to. “How much do I owe you?” Mentally, she counted up the money she recalled in her wallet. Perhaps forty dollars?

“Jacob bought it, not me,” Walker said before waving goodbye.

“You bought it?” she sputtered. “Jacob—”

“It was no big deal. And before you start throwing money my way, stop.”

“I want to pay what you're owed.”

“You don't ‘owe' me a thing, Deb,” he said quietly. “You've done a lot for me, and you've been able to forgive me when I've acted like a total jerk. I had some extra money, and it made me happy to spend it on you. Take it.”

“But—” She hardly knew what to think about this.

“Consider it a gift.”

A gift? “But that isn't what we talked about.”

“Then consider it a surprise. Now, put it in your purse and say thank you.”

Feeling like she was in daze, she did as he asked.
“Danke.”

“You're welcome.” He smiled. “Come on, let's walk to the store.”

She fell to his side, keeping pace with him. The sidewalks were narrow, and more than once, he paused so she could precede him during an especially narrow patch.

A buggy passed them, and when Jacob fingered the brim of his hat at the driver, Deborah knew their walking together would be remarked upon. But instead of feeling wary, she felt like standing up a little taller, or smiling a little bit brighter.

This was a moment out of her dreams. A moment that until recently she never thought would be realized.

Only when they passed the sheriff's trailer, where they saw the silhouettes of Sheriff Kramer and Detective Reynolds inside, did reality return.

Their footsteps slowed.

Until Perry's murder was solved, nothing about their lives would get back to normal. Questions would remain about his disappearance and his death. And who knew more than they were letting on.

W
ell, would you look at that? Jacob and Deborah Borntrager are walking together,” Mose said, lazily watching the couple walk together outside the front window.

Having gotten tired of staring at his notes, Luke stopped tossing up the squishy stress ball he'd found in the back of Mose's supply closet up in the air. “You're worse than a neighborhood gossip.”

“By now, I'm sure you've realized that Deborah's had a crush on Jacob Schrock for quite some time.”

“And?”

“And, it does my heart good to see them walking together, like a couple. Why, back when they were small, we all thought it was only a matter of time before they began courting.”

“We?”

“Everyone in the church district,” Mose grumbled. “And at Mary King's.”

“Let me get this straight.” Tossing the ball up in the air again, Luke chuckled. “You were discussing relationships with the rest of the old biddies over coffee?”

“And pie.” Mose's chastised expression lasted only about thirty seconds. Then he chuckled, too. “Don't knock it, Luke. Since you've decided to settle here with Frannie, I'd guess you'll soon be taking an interest in other peoples' love lives.”

“If I turn into a gossip, heaven help us all.”

“Indeed.” Mose winked, then turned back to the window. “Hmm. Jacob is grasping Deborah's elbow. That romance has bloomed, for sure.”

“We still need to question Jacob, you know.”

“I know. I read your notes from Deborah's interview. I think she was withholding something.”

“I thought so, too.” Standing up, Luke crossed the room and stared out at the departing couple beside his friend. “But I'm not sure if they're only lying to us . . . or to each other as well.”

When they were out of sight, Mose picked up his car keys. “I think there's only one way to discuss this further, Luke.”

“Let me guess . . . at Mary King's?”

“Of course. I heard she's been baking up some lemon chess pies. I aim to have a slice before it's all gone.”

Chapter 14

“The older a man gets, the farther he had to walk to school as a child.”

A
ARON
S
CHROCK

A
fter only the briefest knocks, Jacob's dad opened his bedroom door. “Jacob, I'm afraid you are going to have even less free time now,” he said in a rush.

Jacob scrambled to a sitting position on his bed. “And why is that?”

“I just spoke with Walker. He's quitting.”

“What? I just saw him. He didn't say a word about it.” When he saw his father's gaze had centered on his
Sports Illustrated
magazine . . . and his cell phone, he hastily pushed both under his pillow. It wouldn't change what his father had seen, but maybe it would prevent a lecture.

“I guess it's a sudden thing,” his dad replied as he walked across the room and sat on the old recliner in the corner. “He's got a good reason, though. He's going to live on his grandparents' farm and help out there for a time.”

“He mentioned that his grandfather was sick. Is he worse?”

“I don't think so.” He frowned. “Your mother heard that he's going to have to have a procedure done on his heart, but he's out of the danger zone, praise God.”

“I wonder what Walker's family thinks about him going out to help on an Amish farm.”

“Oh, I'm sure they're proud of him . . . and maybe worried a bit, too.” He raised his brows. “Something tells me that the Planks might not be losing a daughter as much as gaining a son.”

Thinking about Walker, with his city ways and the truck he loved so much, Jacob felt his lips curve into a smile. “I think you may be right,” he mused. “Daed, do you think Walker knows anything about plowing?”

“Jacob, I'd be surprised if he knew which end of the horse to hook the plow up to! I'd have a difficult time plowing, and I did it when I was a boy. It ain't an easy thing to get used to.” With a chuckle, he added, “Walker Anderson has a great many skills. Farming ain't one of them.”

“That is one thing I think we can agree on.”

They chuckled, making Jacob happy that for once he and his father were on common ground. The warm atmosphere seemed to affect his father as well. Before Jacob's eyes, his father's shoulders and back relaxed and he sank farther into the old brown recliner.

“I've always liked this chair. Don't know why your mother put it in here.”

“She didn't,” Jacob corrected. “Mamm was going to give it to charity because it was so worn out and ugly. I decided to rescue it and bring it into my room.”

His
daed
patted the armrest. “It may be big and weathered-looking, but it's still in good shape. Why, it's far more comfortable than my new chair.”

“Oh, I bet you'll get used to the new one soon, Daed,” Jacob replied dryly. “After all, it's only been two years.”

“Time does heal all wounds.” He paused, his eyes on the pillow. “So, you got yourself a cell phone, do ya?”

There was no point in lying. “I do.”

“You know I can't bless that.”

“I don't expect you to approve, Daed. But I haven't joined the church yet.”

“I wish you would. So . . . who do you call on this phone of yours?”

“If I told you, then I'd be giving away other names. I can't do that.”

His brows rose. “Other Amish kids have cell phones?”

“I'm hardly a kid, Daed. I'm twenty years old. And yes, other people my age have them.” He waved a hand. “You know, even some members of our church have them.”

“They use those phones strictly for work. The bishop ain't too happy about it, neither.”

Jacob didn't want to talk about the rules of their
Ordnung
. The only thing to come out of that would be an argument about what was right and what was wrong.

The conversation would be a little pointless, anyway. He'd already done so much that was wrong. Scooting to the side of the bed, he sat on the edge and faced his father. “I'll work at the store whenever you need me to. You know I will.”

“I was hoping you'd tell me that. You are a
gut
boy, Jacob.” He squirmed. “
Jah,
a fine man. But maybe I won't need you as much as I fear I will. After all, Deborah seems to be getting the hang of things. She likes working, too.”

Thinking about how natural it was starting to feel to be working by her side, Jacob nodded. “She does like being at the store.”

“The detective sure talked to her for a while. Do you think Luke suspects she had something to do with Perry's death?” His father sounded perturbed.

“I certainly hope not.” The strain in his
daed
's voice didn't come near to matching how he felt. He would never forgive himself if Deborah was blamed unjustly for Perry's death.

“He's questioned a lot of people, Daed. But that doesn't mean that everyone he's been talking to is guilty.” Sounding more confident than he felt, he added, “I bet he's merely trying to get more information.”

His father looked startled, though he tried to cover it up quickly. “I bet you're right. I, ah, feel certain that Deborah had nothing to do with her brother's death.”

“I know she wasn't involved.”

“She's turned into a pretty woman, don'tcha think? She was always such a tiny thing, like a doll.”

Jacob liked how delicate Deborah had felt in his arms by the creek. He'd wanted to hold her close and protect her from everything bad in the world. He nodded in agreement.

“I always thought her eyes were pretty.”

Deborah had hazel eyes, the exact shade as Perry's. Until lately, her eyes had only served to remind him of how much he'd disliked the guy.

But lately he'd been thinking about her eyes, about all her features. And realizing that she was more than simply pretty. She was beautiful.

However, these new feelings were not anything he was anxious to share with his father. “We all grew up,” he said. “I suppose we all look better than we did at fourteen.”

His dad's smile widened. “Indeed. And hopefully you're smarter, too.”

As he thought of his recent actions, Jacob felt his smile fade. He was struggling to think of something to say to explain his mood swing when his mother's voice floated up the stairs.

“Aaron? Jacob? Are you two in Jacob's room?”

“We are.” His father hopped to his feet. “Gloria, what is it you need?”

Instead of hearing her answering yell, they heard the pounding of rushed footsteps on the wooden stairs.

Jacob stood up and opened his door just as his mother approached. “Mamm? Is everything okay?”

Her face was flushed, full of anxiety. “I'm not sure. Detective Reynolds and Sheriff Kramer are here.”

His father gripped the edge of his bed. “Both of them?”

Her gaze still on Jacob, his mother nodded. “They came to talk to Jacob.”

“Only Jacob?”

She nodded. “Shall I send them up?”

“There's no need, Gloria,” Mose said from the doorway. “If you don't mind, we'll be speaking to Jacob in here. This is as good a place as any, I think.”

“All right,” his father said. “The room is crowded, but we can make room—”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Schrock,” Detective Reynolds said. “But we'll be speaking to Jacob alone.”

His father's expression fell. “Alone? Are you sure you—”

Jacob interrupted. “It's all right, Daed. I'll be fine.”

“Does he need a lawyer, Mose?”

Mose turned to Jacob. “We're merely going to ask you questions. But you're welcome to get a lawyer if you want.”

“It's your right,” Detective Reynolds added.

The last thing in the world Jacob wanted was a lawyer. “I don't want a lawyer, Daed. I'm fine.”

“Goodness, Jacob,” his mother wrung her hands. “Maybe your father is right?”

Before his parents could prolong things further, Jacob hardened his voice. “Daed, take Mamm out of here. Please.”

Grudgingly, his
daed
ushered his mother out of the room. When only the three of them were left, Mose closed the door, and leaned against it.

His heart racing, Jacob clasped his hands behind his back with a sense of doom.

“Jacob, it is like this, I'm afraid,” Mose said. “Detective Reynolds and I believe you were the very last person to ever see Perry Borntrager alive.” He paused, took a breath, then plunged in. “Furthermore, we believe you were with Perry on the Millers' farm on the evening of December thirty-first.”

The words were so damning, Jacob felt himself sway. His whole life seemed to flash before his eyes. All his good decisions. And the bad ones, too. His struggles with his parents. The good times with his friends.

The walks to school with Deborah and Perry. The kisses he and Deborah had just shared.

The pain he felt whenever he thought of the moment his whole life had changed. When he and Perry had been together for the very last time.

He contemplated lying. Considered trying to cover his tracks. Thought about blaming what he did on somebody else.

But he had already evaded the truth for long enough.

And there was no way he was ever going to let Deborah, or anyone else, get blamed for what he'd done.

“Why did you
really
go to Lexington as soon as Abby Anderson found Perry's body, Jacob?” Luke said from his position by his desk.

The relief he felt about admitting the truth was almost overwhelming. “My father sent me. So I wouldn't have to be questioned.”

“And why didn't he want you questioned?”

Jacob shrugged. “Probably because he knew I disliked Perry.” He paused, debated about revealing too much, then decided to go ahead and tell all. “I think he suspected I killed Perry.”

There, he'd said it. He half expected the ceiling to come tumbling down, now that he'd admitted his worse fears. But all he felt was relief from finally voicing his secrets, and a deep sense of finality.

It seemed now his future was out of his hands. It was now in God's hands, and these men's, too.

Mose walked to Luke's side. Now the three of them were facing each other, the sheriff and detective standing side by side, Jacob smack in front of them. He shifted uncomfortably, wanting to look them both in the eye, but afraid, too.

He'd known Sheriff Kramer all his life. How could he bear to see the disappointment in his eyes?

“Did you hate Perry, Jacob?” Mose asked.

Time passing had served to let him remember those days with stark honesty. “I thought I did.”

The detective scowled. “Either you hated him or you didn't.”

“It wasn't that easy,” Jacob said. “I knew Perry my whole life. We used to all walk to school together, me, Perry, and Deborah. I loved him like a brother.”

Mose narrowed his eyes. “But?”

“But then we drifted apart. Perry started wanting different things. He wanted to jump the fence, he wanted more money than I could dream of. He wanted to get high . . .” Knowing he wasn't making a whole lot of sense, Jacob swallowed. “After a time, I gave up hoping he'd change.”

When the two other men did nothing, just stared, Jacob took a deep breath and continued. “I've realized lately that I didn't hate Perry. I had hated the things he did, and the things he had been making me feel.”

“Did you meet him at the Millers' farm on the evening of December thirty-first?” Mose asked.

Jacob swallowed. Felt the rest of his life fade. He was going to go to jail. To prison. He was sure of it.

But perhaps going to jail with a clear conscience was better than lying to everyone he loved? Surely God would be glad about that?

“I did. But I didn't go out there to kill him.”

Stark sympathy filled Mose's expression. “Tell us what happened, Jacob.”

He closed his eyes, prayed for strength, then began. “Perry and I argued when he and Deborah came by the store on the thirtieth. He was acting so different. Like he was lost or something.” He frowned, remembering how his temper had flared. “To be honest, he asked if he could hang out with us. I told him he couldn't.” Raising his chin, he looked at Mose. “It made me so mad, the way Perry had expected that we'd just take him back. After everything he'd done.”

“How did you end things that night?” Luke asked.

“I told him to go away. I told him that it was too late,” Jacob admitted with a wince. “I told him that a man couldn't take back his sins, he could only live them.” Hearing his words now, Jacob felt his cheeks redden. He'd been so sanctimonious!

So mistaken, acting like he'd never done anything wrong.

“So how did you end up seeing him the next evening?”

“I was working late at the store. Actually, I was out on the front sidewalk sweeping when I saw Frannie Eicher running from the edge of the Millers' farm. She was crying, said she'd just gotten in a fight with Perry. I tried to talk to her, but she pushed right by me. She was really upset. Actually, she looked terrified.”

Swallowing hard, he dared to look at Luke. He knew Luke and Frannie were practically engaged. Was Luke going to be upset with Jacob for not doing more for Frannie?

But instead of frowning, Luke's face was a careful mask. “So what did you do?”

“I went to go talk to him.”

“But it weren't your business, Jacob,” Mose said, his voice sounding frustrated. More like a father's than a sheriff's.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jacob nodded. “You're right. I shouldn't have gotten involved, but I kind of already was. We'd all been friends for so long, and all of us had gotten hurt by Perry, one way or another. We felt helpless. Well, I did, at least,” he amended. “For weeks, I'd tried to stand up to him, but instead of getting involved, I looked the other way. When I saw Frannie crying, something inside me just snapped. It felt like the last straw.”