For a moment, she simply sat there, surveying the clearing in front of the car, marveling at just how beautiful the Amish countryside was no matter the time of day. Then, squaring her shoulders, she pushed open the door and stepped onto the soft earth, depositing her aunt’s keys into her front pocket as she did.
It was different this time.
Instead of shielding her eyes from the last of the sun’s rays, this time she found herself looking up at the hundreds of stars that twinkled against the night sky. Instinctively,
she picked out the Big and Little Dippers and the occasional airplane temporarily masquerading as a star, her breathing soft and rhythmic to her own ears.
Eventually, she picked her way across the moonlit prairie grass until she found the rock she’d perched on with Benjamin earlier in the week. Scooting toward its center, she looked into the valley below, locating the Millers’ farm in short order. Two of the three farmhouses sported faint glows—candles or gas-generated lamps, no doubt. But the third house was dark.
She tried to imagine what was happening in each home. Perhaps the grandparents’ home was the dark one, their increased age making them retire to bed earlier than everyone else. The larger house to the right of the barn was probably where Eli and Ruth lived with their parents and younger siblings. The light poking through their windows was minimal—maybe just enough for everyone to sit around the table and visit.
Bobbing her head to the left, she took in the third and smallest farmhouse—the one Benjamin probably took over when he married his late wife, Elizabeth. A pang of something tugged at her heart as she envisioned the quiet, gentle man wandering around the farmhouse all by himself, still mourning the decade-old death of his wife. She couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. Nor could she imagine Jakob’s pain. From what she could gather from his brief comments the night before, he had loved Elizabeth, too.
Only she’d chosen to marry Benjamin.
Pulling her knees to her chin, she wrapped her arms around her legs and stared down at the house, her thoughts veering off in odd directions …
Had Elizabeth known Jakob loved her yet chosen
Benjamin instead? Or had Jakob kept the extent of his feelings for the Amish girl to himself? And was Elizabeth the true reason he left the Amish community to pursue police work?
And as a detective, would Jakob be able to solve Walter Snow’s murder?
She hugged her legs close and revisited the things she’d learned that day, all thoughts, all questions eventually leading to one place.
The love letters.
Walter Snow had a monumental crush on Ruth Miller. One only had to look at the crumpled note Claire had found to know that. But what she didn’t know was whether those letters played any part in the former shopkeeper’s death.
And if so, did they hand Eli an even stronger motive for committing the crime?
The snap of a twig somewhere off to her right made her legs drop to the rock. Turning her head toward the sound, she strained to make out the shape of an animal but saw nothing. Her heart rate accelerated in her chest as she heard a second snap, this one closer than the first.
“Hello?” She slid off the rock and got ready to run through the tall grass to her car. “Is anyone there?”
A form emerged from the shadow cast by her car and stopped. “Miss Weatherly? That is you?”
She knew that voice.
“Benjamin?” she squeaked. “Is that you?”
“Yes. It is me.” He stepped closer until he was completely visible from the light of the half moon. “I did not expect to see you.”
She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her keys. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to crash your special spot. I … I just kind of ended up here.”
He raised his palms into the air. “I do not own this land.”
“But it is where you come when you want to be alone.” She stepped around the rock. “Had I seen your horse and buggy, I would have turned around.”
“I made the choice to walk. Now I know why.” Benjamin swept his hand toward the rock. “Please. Do not go.”
She looked from the car, to the rock, and back to Benjamin. “Are you sure?”
“I am sure.” He patted the spot she’d vacated and waited for her to reclaim it. When she did, he sat beside her, his simple black shoes dangling over the edge. “So why did you come?”
She opened her mouth to speak, to let all of her worries and fears out into the open, but closed it as reality sunk in. She couldn’t talk about Esther and Eli, or Walter and Ruth. Not now. Not with Benjamin.
Instead, she searched for something that would sound semi-believable. “I’ve been giving some thought to getting a place of my own, and I guess I just needed to look at it from all angles, decide whether it’s something I want to do now or wait for another year or so.”
“Will you leave your store?”
“No! Never!” She pulled her knees up once again until her chin rested on them. “I love it here in Heavenly. I don’t ever want to leave.”
He bowed his head forward. “That is good.”
“I just don’t want to take a room from my aunt for any longer than necessary,” she explained. “My being there gives her one less room to rent.”
“But you help, yes?”
She nodded. “I do. And she loves having me there. It’s just that, well …” Her words slipped away as she looked
into the valley again, her eyes drawn to the farmhouse she equated with Ben. “I guess I want to have a place of my own one day.”
Benjamin shifted on the rock, then extended the index finger of his right hand toward the very parcel of land she’d been admiring from afar. “Do you see the farmhouse there? The one that has no light? That is mine.”
So she’d been wrong. The absence of light she’d attributed to Benjamin’s grandparents was actually due to his long walk. “Did you ever consider moving back in with your family after your wife passed?”
“I did not. I was a man, not a boy.”
It was the same basic reason she’d given to Diane the few times the possibility of moving was discussed. It wasn’t that she didn’t love the inn—because she did. And it wasn’t some sort of burning desire to get out from under her aunt’s watchful eye. She treasured their time together, valued her aunt’s opinions and experience.
She just wanted to do what grown-ups were supposed to do.
“Does it get lonely sometimes?” she asked, addressing one of her aunt’s chief concerns for her.
“When I go inside and close the door, it is because I need time. I have many responsibilities. For my sisters and brothers. It is nice to sit alone at night.”
“Yet you still come here …”
He braced himself back against his hands and looked up at the sky. “I am worried. For Ruth. And for Eli.”
She caught her breath and waited for more.
“Eli … He does not know when to be silent. He does not learn from his mistakes. I worry his actions will hurt Ruth.”
“How so?”
“He wants to be man. To earn respect. So he does not
tell of problems at the shop. But he gets angry and says things he should not. He angers people. That anger is now on Ruth.”
She jerked her head right, Benjamin’s strong jawline visible in the light of the moon. “You think that everything that has happened is because someone is angry at Eli?”
Benjamin’s head nodded beneath his hat. “I do.”
“Who is angry at Eli?”
“Yoder … Stoltzfus … Lapp … Beilers … Troyer”—one by one he ticked them off on his fingers, the list continuing as he finished one hand and moved on to the next—“and Schrock.”
The list of Amish names surprised her. “But why? Why are all of those people angry at Eli?”
“He made things worse.”
She dropped her legs to the rock and spun around to face Benjamin. “What things?”
“He scared Mr. Snow. Mr. Snow ran. Took their money with him.” It was a simple explanation and one she couldn’t believe she’d missed. Suddenly, it made sense why someone would lash out at Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe.
Or did it?
The Amish were supposed to be pacifists. It was his failure to act as one that had earned Eli a spot in front of his elders as he asked for forgiveness for his behavior toward Mr. Snow. Surely they wouldn’t condone things like stealing pie boxes, breaking milk bottles, spattering paint, and starting a fire.
She said as much to Benjamin.
“I do not believe they would do those things. But they are not the only ones angry at my brother. There are others who are not Amish.”
It was a point she couldn’t argue. In just the short time since she’d opened Heavenly Treasures, she’d heard countless
stories of Eli losing his temper with everyone from tourists to local teenagers—and everyone in between. Most people probably shook it off or maybe used it to further their ignorance of the Amish people. But most was not all. And it only took one bad apple to take things too far.
The notion was both appealing and unappealing at the same time. For if Benjamin was right, the pranks could continue, possibly even escalate beyond anything they’d seen so far. If he was wrong and Arnie was right, the stain of Eli’s actions would reach far into his family.
She lifted her gaze toward the stars that peppered the sky and found the brightest one she could see. “Do you see that star right there?” she asked, indicating the correct one with her finger. “It’s the brightest one in the sky tonight, which makes it a wishing star according to Aunt Diane.”
He followed the path made by her finger. “A wishing star?”
“She says that if you find that star and stare at it good and hard, whatever you wish for at that moment will come true.”
“Have you done this before?”
She felt his eyes on her face and knew he was waiting for an answer. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I have. When I first moved here. We had spent the evening talking about all of the hopes and dreams I’d had before I got married. The ones that faded to nothing as my husband lost interest in his vows.”
Like clockwork, the mere mention of Peter enveloped her in sadness, and she fought to keep it at bay. “So I told her I’d always wanted to own a shop with all sorts of things to make people smile.”
His silence while she spoke was different than Peter’s had always been. Peter’s had been because he wasn’t listening,
something he’d proven again and again throughout their nearly five years together. Benjamin, on the other hand, was listening to every word, waiting, like a child, for the rest of the story.
“You said this wish on a bright star?”
“I did,” she said. “I know it’s silly to believe that wish made it happen, but I do.”
When he didn’t say anything in response, she glanced in his direction and found him looking up at the stars. “Will you make a wish now?”
She nibbled at her lower lip but gave up as her smile won. “I could.”
“Will you wish for a new home?”
“I’m not sure I’m ready just yet,” she said, the words surprising even her. “I think I need my aunt’s presence a little longer. I need our talks; I need her encouragement; I need her hugs.”
Benjamin stared up at the stars. “That is good. Family is good.”
“I agree.” It was hard not to lose herself in the sincerity that was Benjamin Miller. But as was always the case when she dared to think of him, she heard Diane’s voice in her head, reminding her to look at his vest, his hat, his pants.
“So what is your new wish?”
She closed her eyes against the one she couldn’t have, the one she couldn’t voice to anyone, least of all him.
“Miss Weatherly?”
She jumped at the feel of his fingers on her shoulder and the rapid heartbeat his touch inspired.
Vest, hat, pants—Amish …
Vest, hat, pants—Amish …
Swallowing against the lump that threatened to render her speechless, she searched for something, anything she
could say that would deflect him from the knowledge that had to be written all over her face.
“I suppose I would make two wishes if I could.”
He pulled his hand from her shoulder and gestured toward the stars, his expression difficult to read. “We must find two bright stars?”
She allowed herself to laugh, the sound echoing around them. “I suppose that would be best.”
“That is one.” Benjamin pointed to her star’s biggest contender. “So now there are two. Two stars. Two wishes.”
“Okay … here goes.” She looked at the first star and closed her eyes, the wish coming easily.
“What? I do not hear?”
She lifted one lid and peeked out at Benjamin. “You want me to say them out loud?”
“Of course. How am I to know your wish if you do not tell me?”
She thought about explaining the practice of silent wishes and the longstanding belief that they wouldn’t come true if you spoke them out loud. But when she saw the way he looked at her, with such curiosity and anticipation, she simply couldn’t burst his bubble. Besides, he was Amish. He thought wishes and such were hooey anyway.
She repeated the lead-up to her wish, this time voicing her request aloud for Benjamin and all of the insects and animals around them to hear. “I wish to live a simple life surrounded by love and family.”
Opening her eyes, she searched the sky for the second star but to no avail. “Uh-oh. I think your star was an airplane.”
Benjamin cleared his throat and pointed above his head. “No. It is there.”
“Oh, yeah, I see it now.” She closed her eyes again and
spoke her second wish aloud. “I wish for us to figure out who is doing these awful things to Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe before any more harm is done.”
“That is a good wish.”
She turned away from the stars to find him staring at her with a look she couldn’t quite identify. “You liked that one?”
“I liked both.”
C
laire had just let herself into the stockroom via the back door when Esther started crying, tears streaming down the young woman’s cheeks with reckless abandon.
“Esther, what’s wrong?” Claire dropped her purse and keys at her feet and grabbed hold of her employee’s soft hands. “Are you hurt?”
Esther’s breath hitched once, twice, three times before she was able to shake her head.
She peeked around the girl and into the main room of the shop. “Did something break?”