The Search The Secrets of Crittenden Cou

Chapter 9




“Of course I began to hate Perry—he stole from my parents. But that don’t mean I killed him.”

JACOB SCHROCK




Deborah still couldn’t believe she’d had the misfortune to see Jacob Schrock at his parents’ store. What luck! No one had even mentioned that he was back in town. If she’d known that there was a chance of seeing him, she definitely would have listened to her mother and avoided the Schrock’s Variety at all costs.

Now that they’d spoken and it was evident that he hoped to never see her again, Deborah was even more determined to stay away from the market for good. It would be a nuisance of course. Schrock’s wasn’t the only store in town, but it was the only Amish market of its kind. There was no other store in walking distance where it was possible to buy fabric, kerosene, homemade rolls, and farm-fresh eggs.

But talking to Jacob brought back too many emotions she didn’t want to feel. Embarrassment about her brother’s actions. Pain that stemmed from lost opportunities. Then there was her childish crush that never seemed to vanish.

After all this time, she’d thought she’d become used to other people’s accusing looks and pointing fingers. She’d thought she’d finally pushed aside the shame about her brother. But her conversation with Jacob proved that she’d been hopelessly naïve. No matter what she did, for the rest of her life, Deborah was going to be known as the drug dealer’s sister. There was little chance of redeeming herself in people’s eyes.

To some members of her community, she was going to always be in Perry’s dark shadow. It cast a long shadow, too—terribly hard to step out of.

It was beyond ironic that Jacob Schrock—the man she’d always secretly hoped would be her husband—couldn’t seem to stand the sight of her.

Perry would no doubt find that amusing.

Armed with her tote that she’d hoped to fill with fresh dairy products but which now remained empty because she’d been so anxious to leave the market, she started on home. As always, the three miles it took to get home was calming.

As difficult as it was, she was glad to be back in Crittenden County, surrounded by the things she knew so well. The lush scenery, with the creeks and valleys and dense foliage, looked so different than the acres of farmland that covered almost every inch of Charm. There was a sense of coziness to Crittenden County. The narrow rural streets, the abundant greenery. All of it gave one the sense of closeness, of being cushioned in security. So different than Ohio’s wide-open spaces.

So, though she’d been charmed by Charm and relieved to get away from the scrutiny here, she was glad to be back in her comfortable surroundings. As she continued walking, she looked with longing at the entrance to the Millers’ farm. Before everything had happened, she would’ve been tempted to trespass and cross through the middle of it. The Millers didn’t care for people walking through their fields, but most people went through, anyway. Their land was vast and underutilized. The Millers were older and just couldn’t keep up with their large property like they used to. But instead of selling it to one of the many young Amish couples desperate for farming land, they’d selfishly clung to their property.

As if giving it away would diminish their importance.

Instead, their intent to keep it for themselves had made everyone feel like it was fair game. And because of that, no one had really been surprised to hear that those English girls had decided to smoke in the middle of it.

The Millers’ land had lately become something of a spot to do things in private.

She’d even heard that Perry and Frannie had met there more than once.

Remembering when he’d come home from one of their meetings so angry, she flinched . . . sensing his anger and feeling it all over again.

“Perry, what happened?” she’d asked when he’d stormed up their driveway.

To her surprise, her brother had answered immediately. “Frannie Eicher . . . she left me.”

Left? Warily, she said, “You mean that she doesn’t want to see you anymore?”

With a jerk, he shook his head. “She said I changed.”

He had. “What did you say?”

“I said if I changed, that was good. And she should want to change, too.”

Everyone knew Frannie to be one of the most easygoing women in the area. “I’m sure if you go visit her and explain that you were tired . . .”

“Tired? I’m not tired.”

Ah. So his red eyes and antsy moves didn’t stem from lack of sleep. Once again, she chided herself for being so childish and naïve. Like her parents, she’d been happy to see only what she wanted to be true.

“If you aren’t tired, then what is wrong with you?” she blurted, finally ready to hear the truth. “Why are your eyes so red and glassy?”

“I’m fine. My eyes are fine.” His voice turned hard. “Deborah.” When she’d been little, she’d truly hated her name. She had thought it far too big and old-sounding for a girl her age.

When she’d told Perry that, he’d promptly called her “D”—rarely ever addressing her by her first name.

But now, he had a new edge to his voice. She should’ve heeded it. “You are not fine,” she’d pushed. “You’re acting so harsh. Nothing like the Perry we know and love.”

He’d frozen, then looked at her like she’d just said the best thing in the world. “Gut. The last thing in the world I want to be is the Perry you knew. I’d rather die than be the way I used to be. If I’m acting harsh, then that means I’ve stopped letting others take advantage of me. That’s something, ain’t so?”

He’d pushed by her then, walking into the house, past their questioning mother. He’d closed his door and hadn’t come out until late the next day.

At first, her parents had blamed his disappearance on her. On something like sibling rivalry. Later, they were sure she’d known more than she was letting on. Of course she had. She remembered feeling so trapped, so torn. But if she told everything she knew, then she’d be betraying someone who trusted her.

Still walking, still fretting, Deborah scanned the area, hoping to see anything to take her mind off the dark memories. About a block from her house, she saw Abby Anderson, the girl who had found Perry’s body. Because she was Walker’s sister, Deborah had seen her from time to time. But they’d never had the occasion to talk.

Maybe they could now?

As the girl unabashedly stared right back, Deborah realized that Abby was probably thinking the same thing.

Eager to continue to face things instead of avoiding them, she stopped. “Hello. You’re Abby, right?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.” Perhaps thinking of the funeral, when a few Englischers had stayed to the back of the crowd, she bit her lip. “I mean, it’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

Amazing how even recalling the funeral could still make her choke up. “How are you?”

Abby looked at her feet. “I don’t know. Still shaken up. Would you be upset if I said that I’m sorry I found Perry?”

“I wouldn’t be upset.” Actually, she was so tired of talking around her problems, talking around the circumstances of Perry’s death, it was a relief that someone mentioned him outright. She almost smiled.

Noticing the way her features relaxed, Abby frowned. “I said the wrong thing, didn’t I?”

“Nee. It’s just that I started realizing that of course you wouldn’t have wanted to find my brother the way you did. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I don’t know why I found him. No matter how hard I’ve tried, I haven’t been able to understand why God led me to that spot.” Her voice lowered. “It was so scary.”

For the first time, she saw the event through Abby’s eyes. “I imagine you were terribly frightened.”

“Frightened and afraid.” Still not looking her way, Abby added, “And so alone. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so alone.”

Deborah thought that was curious, for sure. She’d heard that Abby had been with two friends. Had they abandoned her? Though she’d just been feeling alone herself, she dug deep and tried to offer solace. “I’ve come to realize that some things are God’s will and that it isn’t up to us to wonder why we are put in difficult situations. Or wonderful-gut ones. Sometimes all we need to know is that it is His will.”

“And you believe that?”

“I have to. If God isn’t involved in our lives, then we are completely alone, and we can’t have that.”

Finally, Abby stared at her. “I suppose.”

“I suppose that, too.” Deborah smiled and felt a warmth spread inside her when Abby returned the smile. Impulsively, she spoke. “You know what? I’m on my way home, but would you like to go to Mary King Yoder’s instead? A slice of pie sounds like a good idea.”

After a moment’s pause, Abby nodded. “I’d like that.” When they started walking in the direction of the restaurant housed in a somewhat rough-looking trailer, Abby spoke. “Deborah, this is nice.”

“What is?”

“Meeting you out of the blue. Having you not hate me.”

“I would never hate you for finding my brother’s body.” She paused, thinking about what Abby had said, wondering why she had to be the one to find her brother’s body.

“You know, I’ve wondered time and again why the Lord picked my brother to take the path he went on. I’ve been angry and hurt and I’ve prayed.” Deborah thought about continuing, but she didn’t have any more to add. She had done all those things—but so far, they hadn’t seemed to make much of a difference.

“Did you get answers?” Hope shone in Abby’s eyes. “Did God talk to you?”

Deborah considered lying. It would be the kinder thing, surely, to offer Abby some sort of hope in an almost hopeless situation. But she was so tired of lying. And keeping secrets. She just didn’t think she was capable of covering up one more. “Truthfully? No.”

“Oh.”

“But that doesn’t mean He won’t,” she declared. If she’d learned one thing since hearing about Perry’s death—and then discovering what was in his room—it was that sometimes hope was the only thing a person was able to cling to.