Plain Threats. Alison Stone
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be avoided. You know that.”
A guilty heat burned Rebecca’s stomach. Would everyone always remind her of her horrible past?
“I’m trying to help Samuel—not get him into more trouble.”
The lines around Flo’s eyes deepened in confusion. “I don’t understand why calling the sheriff would affect Samuel.”
Rebecca bowed her head. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with all my troubles.”
“You need to share or—” Flo lifted her hands to both sides of her head, then flared her fingers “—or your head will explode.”
“Well, the professor wasn’t able to give me any new information about Samuel’s bad mood. When the sheriff arrived last night, Samuel was rude to him. I don’t need my son to be on the sheriff’s bad side.”
Flo’s expression softened. “I’m sorry you’re having troubles, but maybe it’s time you stop smothering that boy.” She laughed, a sharp sound. “A boy. Listen to me. He’s a man. He could vote if he was so inclined. Stop trying to make him fit into a certain mold.” She lifted her finger and tapped the side of her head. “He’s got his own ideas.”
Rebecca blinked slowly, realizing her English friend wouldn’t understand.
As if reading her mind, Flo said, “I’m a mother, too. I raised three boys. My husband was convinced that one of them would become an engineer like him.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “One became an accountant, another a policeman, and the last—much to my husband’s distress—took up creative writing. Poor kid can’t afford to pay attention, but my husband, God rest his soul, finally had to realize each of his sons had their own path in this life.”
An ache Rebecca couldn’t define filled her.
“The Amish are not like the English. We don’t seek personal fulfillment. We are community-centered. God-centered.”
“Is your son happy?”
Rebecca flinched. “That is not—” She stopped herself, realizing her friendship with Flo was more important than slamming her over the head with how the Amish culture is different from the outside world.
“I realize the Amish march to a different beat, but Samuel is his own person. If he’s not happy, something has to change.”
Rebecca didn’t do well with change.
The bells on the diner door jangled, startling her. Rebecca’s friend and the sheriff’s wife, Hannah, strolled through the door with her young niece Sarah.
Flo leaned in close and whispered, “Hannah Maxwell seems happy since she left the Amish.”
Rebecca walked away without comment because she couldn’t find the words.
Hannah lifted her hand and waved. She placed her hand on her niece’s bun. “Sarah had ballet class in town and we thought we’d stop by and say hello. How are you?”
Rebecca smiled, feeling a little less lonely. Hannah had stopped by because she was married to the sheriff and she knew Rebecca was struggling right now.
“I’m doing fine.” Rebecca smiled at Sarah, admiring her hair, thinking that not that long ago the little girl had been wearing a bonnet and long dress, not a leotard and a pink bow. This was before Hannah had come back to town to care for her deceased sister’s children and had fallen in love with the sheriff.
“We’re going to start practicing for the Nutcracker,” the little girl said. “I’m hoping to be one of the sugarplum fairies.”
“Christmas is still months away.” Rebecca met Hannah’s gaze.
“They start practicing early.” Hannah unzipped the front of her niece’s jacket. “Maybe you can color for a few minutes while I talk to my friend Rebecca.”
Sarah slid into a nearby booth and Rebecca gave her a child’s paper place mat and three crayons. “Hope you like red, blue and green.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said, picking up the red crayon and following the maze path on the place mat.
Hannah moved toward the counter and Rebecca followed. “Spencer told me he saw you yesterday.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened. Embarrassment heated her cheeks.
Hannah waved her hand in dismissal. “My husband doesn’t bring his work home. He’s a good sheriff. He keeps his business confidential, but I sensed that you might need a friend to lean on.” She tilted her head to look into Rebecca’s eyes. “You okay?”
Rebecca sat on the edge of a stool and crossed her arms. “Don’t you sometimes wish we could go back to when we were all little girls? You, me, your sister. Collecting things for our hope chests.”
Hannah’s eyes grew red-rimmed and she gave Rebecca’s arm a squeeze. “I miss my sister every day.” She sniffed. “Nothing turned out like we had planned.” Hannah’s lips curved into a thin smile. “But that doesn’t mean some things can’t turn out okay.” She glanced in the direction of her niece. “I love my sister’s daughters like my own and Spencer is a good man. I found light at the end of a very dark tunnel.”
Rebecca feared the light at the end of her tunnel was a flickering pinprick in danger of being extinguished.
Rebecca squared her shoulders and pushed off the stool. “I’m going through a rough patch, but we’ll be fine.”
“I’m here if you need me. Please don’t be a stranger.”
“Denki.” The Amish word for thank you came easily when chatting with her old friend.
“Well, we need to pick up Emma from her friend’s house and get home.” She reached out and patted Rebecca’s hand.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Hannah said to her niece. Sarah scooted out of the booth clutching the place mat.
Rebecca watched Hannah and Sarah walk hand in hand toward the exit. Hannah glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t hesitate to call.” She jerked her head toward the phone mounted on the wall, indicating Rebecca could call her from the diner if she needed her. “You don’t have to go through any of this alone.”
Rebecca nodded. Hannah seemed happy outside the Amish, so why did the thought of her son leaving the Amish fill her with unbearable sadness?
Because leaving meant walking away from everything Rebecca firmly believed. It wasn’t about happiness in the moment; it was about faith and God and heaven.
What would happen if Samuel left?
Rebecca ran a hand over her forehead. The beginning of a headache was pulsing behind her eyes.
“Excuse me.” The elderly lady seated at the window booth snapped Rebecca out of her reverie. “Could we have more coffee, please?”
Rebecca tugged at the edge of her apron, embarrassed that she had been inattentive. “Of course.” She spun on her heel and strode toward the coffeemaker.
Flo came out of the back and gave her a sympathetic smile. “You’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders, honey. You need to let go and let God.”
Rebecca smiled in spite of herself. Flo’s outward expressions of faith were contrary to her Amish upbringing, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same.
She had to have faith.
A tiny bit of the weight lifted from her shoulders. She grabbed the coffee and strolled over to her only customers.
* * *
A few nights later, Jake pulled his pickup truck—a vehicle that had seen better days—over to the edge of the road in front of the Troyers’ farm. The sun had already set and the final remnants of light were making their last stand. An unpainted split rail fence separated the property from