The Search The Secrets of Crittenden Cou

Chapter 6




“Perry was the type of man to give you the coat off his back. If he didn’t need it, that is.”

JACOB SCHROCK




Frannie, can you hear me?” A pause. “Frannie? Frannie, try to wake up now.”

She heard the voice clearly, and understood what he was asking. Part of her wanted to open her eyes and focus on the voice, but the rest of her far preferred to stay in the peaceful foggy slumber.

It had been a long and difficult night. After her surgery, she’d spent time in a recovery room, where she’d been poked and prodded by nurses who wouldn’t tell her exactly how bad her wounds were.

Would she see out of her eye again?

She fought a rising panic and focused on what she did know. That she wanted to leave this place, if only to get some rest.

Hours had gone by before she was wheeled to a regular hospital room.

But it offered no rest, either.

Throughout the night, she was alternately awoken up by her roommate—a chatty, rather loud woman occupying the other side their room—or by nurses taking her blood pressure and temperature.

Only during the last few hours had the painkillers kicked in enough to drown out the noise, the visits, the ache around her eye, allowing her body to finally relax and drift into a peaceful slumber.

She stretched a leg. Then the other. Perhaps if she shifted just enough, she could drift right back into oblivion and ignore her visitor.

Ignore his summons.

“Frannie?”

Wearily, she gave up sleep’s grip and allowed her attention to drift to the voice coming from the chair next to her bed.

A voice, which had risen yet again. “Frannie? Francis? Wake up.”

There was only one man who said her name like that. With the speed of ice melting, she opened her left eye. “Micah.”

“Jah.” A satisfied smirk appeared.

“How long have you been here?”

“I’ve been sittin’ here an hour. Watching you sleep.”

Watching her sleep? In a snap, her grogginess disappeared. She hastily double-checked to make sure her sheet was pulled up to her chin, and wished he’d left her asleep. Why was he here? Why had he woken her up? “Seeing you—it is most unexpected,” she mumbled, her throat dry and scratchy.

“Unexpected” was something of an understatement. For the last month or so, Micah had been making himself terribly scarce. She’d seen him only once or twice.

Under his straw hat, the man who’d courted her off and on for most of her life stared right back. “My being here shouldn’t be much of a surprise. I came as soon as I heard about your accident.” He paused. “I wanted to be here when you woke up.” His satisfied smile grew. “And I was.”

Indeed, he was! . . . And, well, he had certainly done his best to make sure she woke up.

Over and over he’d said her name, loud and clear. Almost as if he’d been sitting across the room instead of right by her side. It had been the exact opposite of a certain Englischer detective’s husky baritone.

She needed to remember what a good catch Micah was. After what happened with Perry, and her unfortunate attraction to the detective, she needed to remember where her attention should really be focused. She summoned a smile. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Someone needed to be here, don’tcha think? Can’t have you sitting here alone.”

His words were everything she should want to hear. But they felt the same as hearing recorded messages played at regular intervals around the hospital halls. Canned, monotone, meaningless, insincere. “Hmmm.”

Micah reached for her hand, saw the bandages wrapped around her palms, then awkwardly folded his hands together on his lap. After a moment, he exhaled.

He was waiting for her to make the next move.

That was how it had always been. Frannie was the leader in their relationship. When they were courting, he never approached her until she smiled his way. He didn’t take her walking or driving unless she mentioned that she wanted to. He didn’t call on her without an invitation. And he rarely conversed on any topic that she hadn’t initiated.

So now, here they were.

If there was ever a time she needed him to step up, to take control, this was it. She was scared, worried, hurt.

It shouldn’t be up to her to ask him to comfort her. He should want to comfort her.

And him, sitting here exhaling? Well, it didn’t comfort her one bit.

And though he had taken the initiative to visit, he wasn’t prepared to offer her anything else.

Same as always.

As covertly as she dared, she glanced his way. He continued to stare at her, his light brown eyes full of want and expectation. Much like a well-trained spaniel awaiting the next command.

Being with Micah was terribly exhausting.

On the other side of the room, her roommate flicked channels on the television set. A nurse came in and spoke to her. A cell phone rang.

Frannie and Micah sat in silence.

“Tell me about the farm,” she said at last, unable to take the tense silence. Unable to bear the weight of his expectations. “What is new?”

He relaxed. “Well, wouldn’t you know it? Gretta had her kids.”

“Your goat had babies?” She had a special fondness for Gretta. “I bet they are wunderbaar!”

“Indeed, they are. I reckon they are the cutest kids in the county,” he pronounced, sounding like a proud papa. “Frannie, when you get out of here, I’ll have to take you to our barn to see them.” He scratched his head. “That is, if you would care to visit.”

Finally! He had finally asked her somewhere. “I would enjoy that. How many babies did Gretta have? And what color?”

“Three, white and tan.”

She waited for more details. Waited some more. Then realized he was again expecting her to lead the conversation. But though she liked goats just fine, Frannie couldn’t think of another thing to ask. Her head was throbbing, and the eye that wasn’t bandaged was watering terribly. All she wanted was to sink back into oblivion.

But Micah was now leaning forward in that eager way of his.

His short visit now felt like the longest journey imaginable.

“Um, anything else new?” she asked, grasping at straws.

He frowned, obviously thinking. “Nee,” he finally said.

“Ah.”

As they once again lapsed into silence, she let her thoughts wander. It was no wonder, actually, why she’d been tempted to explore what Perry had to offer when he’d shown the slightest bit of interest in her. Sometimes a woman didn’t want to be in control, at least she didn’t. She had no need to always have her way.

Her parents’ relationship had been more of a partnership, full of a constant push and pull. What she could remember, anyway. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift toward the past, back to when her mother was still cancer-free and vibrant. Frannie recalled her mother busily bossing her father around the kitchen, and then his teasing whenever she tried to reorganize the cellar.

They’d playfully argue about all sorts of things. Their marriage had been noisy and full of life.

She wanted that. That give and take. A man who was a match, not a man who only wanted to do as she bid. But she also knew that what she wanted wasn’t necessarily what she needed.

A union with Micah would never be full of fiery arguments, or even much teasing laughter. That wasn’t Micah’s way.

But she would feel catered to and cared for. And she had no doubt that if they both tried, they would have a happy marriage. Perhaps even years of compatible living.

What else could she possibly want, really?

Who else?

It was a fine question. Because there was no one else sitting beside her bed. Only Micah. Who patiently sat. Even though they had little to talk about, he never questioned her or did anything other than make her feel like she was the best part of his life.

He was so terribly loyal.

Surely, there were worse things to start a marriage with? . . .

“Frannie, are you back asleep?” he whispered. “Frannie, I thought maybe we could talk about our future some. You know . . . me and you?” He cleared his throat. Leaned so close she could smell the lingering scent of horse on his clothes. “I care for you, Frannie, though I expect you know that.”

Here he was. Finally initiating a conversation. But perversely, she now didn’t want anything to do with it. Like the coward she was, she kept her body still.

“I think you’ve always known how much I care for you,” he continued. “I think we would have a wonderful-gut union. For sure.”

A union? Was he talking about their relationship now? While she was wrapped up in a hospital sheet, had a tube stuck in her hand, a bandaged eye, and was pretending to sleep?

But if she opened her eye and turned to him, he would expect her to talk. To ask him more questions. To make the plans for their future together. To tell him what to do, what to say.

And at the moment, she didn’t think she could do anything more than just lie there. She tightly held her eyes closed and let him continue to think she was sleeping.

Go away, she silently pleaded.

What felt like hours later, he stood up and walked out—leaving her feeling slightly guilty but relieved, too. She heard the curtain part and him as he stepped across the linoleum with sure, even steps, and then the door open and close.

He was gone.

She sighed.

“That man is an eager one, huh?” said the voice from the other side of the curtain.

With a flood of embarrassment, Frannie realized the voice was the other patient . . . and that she’d heard every single word that had been said.

Feeling awkward, she went ahead and answered. “Yes. He is.”

“In my day, the men didn’t propose at the hospital. Wasn’t seemly.”

“He didn’t propose.”

“Sounded like he was about to!”

No, she thought. He’d been waiting for her to suggest it. But there was no use in explaining that to a stranger. “Perhaps.”

“Hope you’ll weigh your decision carefully. I’m not at all sure he’s the man for you.”

Intrigued, Frannie said, “Why do you say so?”

“He’s too weak-willed. A woman needs a strong man to hold her up from time to time. Just like a strong man needs a strong woman to allow him to show weakness once in a while.”

Was Frannie strong? Yes, she supposed she was. Suddenly, she was feeling a little better. “If he asks,” she said, “I’ll be sure to think about my answer.”

“Good, good.”

The woman coughed a bit, then picked up her phone when it rang. She began to talk about her sheepdog and her boss’s terrible habits.

She talked so much, and in such a speedy, friendly-sounding way, the words began to blend together. Before long, Frannie closed her eyes and let the woman’s voice wash over her, lulling her to sleep.

Where she was thankful to drift back into the warm comfort of her dreams.

Frannie?”

Her name was being called yet again. Oh, couldn’t anyone here simply leave her alone? The words felt like needles to her brain, prickly and stinging.

“Stop,” she mumbled.

But it still continued. “Frannie? Frannie, wake up.”

Slowly, her eye opened. Immediately, she felt the pain. The ache of her wounds throbbing around her eye, her cheeks, her jaw.

Wincing, she tried to focus on her newest visitor, wondering if Micah had returned—and what she would say to him if he asked her to marry him.

But instead of Micah, she saw that Luke now sat by her side.

“Hello, Luke,” she whispered. Her throat was still scratchy, strained.

Without her having to ask, he reached for the pitcher on the side table and poured her a cup of water. Placing a straw in the cup, he smiled as he held it to her lips. “Sip,” he said.

She sipped, and stared in wonder as he set the cup back on the nightstand. “Thank you.”

“Do you need more pain medication? I’ll talk to the nurse . . .”

She was going to try to be brave, strong, but realized it was foolish. With the way pain was tapping a steady drumbeat behind her eye, she wouldn’t be able to focus on a word he had to say. Slowly, she nodded.

“I’ll be right back.”

Purposely, he strode out of the room. While he was gone, she made sure she was tucked in, and even tried to tidy her hair a bit. A lost cause.

When he finally came back in and sat down, she said, “Are you here to ask me more questions?”

“Ah, no.” He settled into the plastic chair beside the bed. “I rarely question women in hospital rooms. I had some extra time so I thought I’d stop by to see how you’re doing.”

“Ah.” She wanted to tease him about caring for her, but she was afraid of his answer.

Afraid he was here out of duty. Out of friendship. Nothing more.

But of course she couldn’t ask, and she shouldn’t even think about it. To him, she was merely another suspect in his murder investigation.

And his former innkeeper, merely an acquaintance.

So instead of saying anything, she tried to relax against the pillows.

She was amazed that with him, there was no awkward silence. And when he smiled at her, his grin did more to comfort her than a hundred visits from Micah ever would.

She didn’t know what to think of that.

“So,” he said, “I used my considerable charm and coaxed some information from the hospital staff. They said you had a rough night of it. But . . . the word is out that the doctors think you’re going to be just fine.”

She’d heard that, too. But it didn’t hurt to be sure. “My eyesight?” she asked.

“As far as I’ve heard”—he paused before continuing—“that’s just fine, too. The doctor will be here in a while to tell you all about it.” Tossing another smile her way, he said, “I tell you what, Frannie Eicher, you gave me a scare.”

Now that she was fully awake, she noticed the beige walls and the beige shade covering the window. The television continued to hum next to her, as did the woman’s one-sided conversation on her cell phone.

“You, scared?” She smiled weakly. “You’re not scared of anything.”

The nurse hurried in and injected something into her IV. She gave Frannie a friendly smile and bustled right back out.

Within seconds, the pain in Frannie’s face started to ebb.

“As much as I appreciate you thinking so, when I heard about all that blood . . .”

Before she could apologize for scaring him, he added, “But that’s in the past. You’re going to be fine. Just need a few days’ rest. You’ll be good as new and making horrible pies before you know it.”

“Oh, how you flatter,” she said, yawning. “Do you think I can go home today?”

“I hope so. If not today, then early tomorrow. Though, if I were you, I’d try to stay as long as possible. You have guests staying at your inn. So no rest there.”

“But that’s my job, Detective. I can’t keep depending on Beth to take care of them.”

“Now, now, no you don’t. I was ‘Luke’ just moments ago. I’m Luke now, too.”

She smiled weakly. Enjoying their shared moment. Enjoying the way that they weren’t arguing, weren’t talking about Perry’s death.

They were having a conversation—well, as good as they could have when it was obvious that he was being on his best behavior.

“You are a gut man, Luke. Some of the time.”

“I know,” he said with a smile. “And maybe I can be your friend, too?”

“I would like that,” she said after a moment’s pause. She wasn’t too familiar with the concept of having a man as a friend, but they’d come too far to pretend they weren’t bound to be close.

She was enjoying the quiet between them, the knowledge that they had formed some sort of truce, when she heard the door to the room creak open.

“Frannie? Frannie?”

Her father.

“Excuse me,” her roommate called out. “I’m on the phone.”

“I am not,” her father said crisply. “I am looking for my daughter.”

“Daed, I’m here. On the other side of the curtain.”

Frannie’s mood lifted at her father’s terse tone. He was introverted but not timid. Never had been.

She was sharing a smile with Luke when the curtains parted.

Seeing him in his usual blue shirt, black pants, and wary expression made her smile broaden. “Daed, it is so good to see you.”

“I wish I could say it was gut to see you, but it ain’t. You look terrible.”

“Danke.”

He paused, then smiled. “Sorry, but it’s true, you know.” He was walking with a limp, as was his way, since he’d gotten on the wrong end of a cow decades ago and was too stubborn to get his injury checked out.

“You didn’t have to come to the hospital,” she said.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t want to be here? You’re my daughter. My only one here in town. Why wouldn’t I want to see how you are faring?”

Now she was embarrassed. “No reason.” She’d gotten so used to not asking for much from him, she supposed she had forgotten that he still loved her. Even if he had no desire to help out at her inn.

As she watched him silently, Luke stood up. “Here you go, sir. Take my chair.”

Her father took it with a grateful sigh. “Danke. This leg of mine don’t seem to want to give me a moment’s peace.”

Luke patted his brace with a smile. “I know the feeling.”

Her daed looked at Luke with a bit more interest, now that they had something in common. “Now, who might you be?”

“Luke Reynolds, sir.”

“You are English?”

“Yes.”

When it was becoming obvious that her father was trying to piece together the information, Frannie hastened to explain. “He’s a detective from Cincinnati, Daed.”

Her father frowned. “Why are you here?”

“We met because of Perry.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not wondering about why you are here in Crittenden County. I’m curious as to why you are here in my daughter’s hospital room?”

“I didn’t want Frannie to be alone.”

“And you think she wants your company?” Her father’s voice was full of indignation and concern. “I would think even the best of detectives would understand that she is in no condition to be questioned.”

“He’s not questioning me, Daed.”

“Then?”

Luke supplied that answer. “We’re friends. When I heard she had been injured, I was worried about her.”

But that explanation only seemed to confuse her father more. And made Frannie realize that she’d made a mistake when she’d decided to keep most of the investigation out of her father’s hearing.

“I thought she might need someone.” When her father’s gaze sharpened, Luke continued back-pedaling. “I mean . . . the surgeries and doctors can be tough to handle by yourself. Especially if you’re not used to hospitals and everything.”

“And you are used to them?”

“I’ve had my share of days in one.” He touched his leg. “I’ve been recovering from a gunshot wound.”

Frannie coughed loudly, letting Luke know that he had just made a fatal error in the “trust me, I’m basically harmless” department.

“Is she in trouble?” her father asked. “Is that why you’re sticking to her like glue?”

“Trouble? Oh no. I just thought . . . well . . . it’s not like I have a lot of other commitments right now. I simply thought I’d stay here a while. You know, so Frannie wouldn’t be alone.”

“Is that what you want, Frannie?”

As she pondered his question, she looked at Luke. He seemed like someone she could count on. Their friendship was based on the short time he’d spent at her inn, and the questioning he did relating to Perry’s death. Though she knew deep down that she felt the beginnings of a real attraction for him, she was enough of a realist to know that they had no future.

But instead of that making her suspicious of him, it only made her trust him more.

Luke was her perfect companion. “Yes, it is what I want,” she said quietly. Then she closed her one good eye so she wouldn’t have to see what everyone thought of that.

The nurse cleared her throat. “You all really do need to leave now.”

The two of them filed out past the curtain, leaving Frannie alone with the nurse.

And very curious about what Luke and her father would say to each other next.