Chapter 12

How long had it been since she'd felt so helpless? Two years? Three?

Yesterday?

Tabitha wasn't completely sure. Nor was she even sure why she was asking herself such things. The amount of time that had passed didn't matter. All she knew for certain was that her head was buzzing, her mind was racing, and she felt more vulnerable than when she'd woken up that morning.

That said a lot.

"I ... I ..."

Seth was on his feet, looking panicked. "I don't know how to help you, Tabitha. Do you want a glass of water or maybe some hot chocolate?" He paused, obviously wracking his brain. "Do you want me to call the sheriff for you? I could ask him to stop by."

For some reason, his panic seemed to set her mind at ease. She couldn't help but smile at his barrage of questions. "Hot chocolate?"

Looking embarrassed, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I know. You've got a cup of coffee sitting there right in front of you. I mentioned hot chocolate because that's what used to help my sister when she was small. Then I, uh, recalled that she's not a child anymore and neither are you."

"No, I'm not. I haven't been a child for a long time." What she was really thinking about was that no one had been so anxious to soothe her for a long time. But how did one mention that?

Pulling herself out of her fog, Tabitha stood up. "Thank you for offering to call the sheriff, but there's no need. Mia already called him."

The concern in Seth's eyes didn't ease. "Is he going to do anything?"

"I don't know. Mia sounded calm but not especially hopeful."

"Really?"

"She thinks Sheriff Johnson will probably stop by, but it might just be a courtesy call."

Seth frowned. "Why only that?"

She shrugged, hoping she looked more self-assured than she felt. "There's not much he can do, right? It's not like the sheriff or one of his deputies can guard me 24/7. I'm on my own."

"I hate that you're okay with that." After looking at her more closely, his voice softened. "Wait a minute. You aren't okay, are you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not?" Her mind was buzzing so much, she wasn't sure of anything. "I'm still trying to come to terms with the news. I think I was happy to pretend that I'd never see Leon again. It's been so long since he was released from jail."

"Where has he been?"

She waved a hand. "I don't know all the details—only what Mia has told me. But after serving three years, he had to live in a halfway house for almost a year. Then, I believe, he had to stay near his parole officer and attend some anger management classes."

Seth's expression remained neutral. "And then?"

"And then, um ... well, I believe he was allowed more freedom because he had a job and had done all the things he'd been asked to do." She looked at Seth curiously. "Isn't that what happens?"

"Jah. More or less."

"Well, then." She swallowed. "Anyway, supposedly Leon stayed on the straight and narrow for a time but then, ah ..."

"He went back to intimidating and abusing women."

"Yes." She supposed she should say more but didn't feel up to it. Even after all this time, Leon's cruelty toward her still felt fresh.

"You really think he's going to come here?"

She hoped not, but ... "Mia seems to think it's a possibility."

"She might not know. She's only guessing, right?"

"She believed in me when no one else did, Seth. I trust her instincts."

"I hope one day you'll trust mine too." His voice gentled. "But I can't help you if I don't know what you need."

Seth's words were kind and his tone tender. If she was still a young girl and hadn't watched so many of her dreams shatter, Tabitha might've even believed him. But she knew what the real world was like, and it wasn't always rosy or fair.

Choosing her words with care, she said, "I've learned over time that hoping for things that are next to impossible doesn't do me any good. I'll be all right." Or ... she wouldn't. All she could do was hope that Leon would have forgotten his vow or that he was so reluctant to get picked up again that he was going to honor the restraining order in place.

"Hey, you're not alone," he murmured.

"I know." She meant it too. His words were kind. But what did they even mean? She and Seth were not close friends. They sure weren't anything close to being a couple. She didn't even know if he cared about her in a romantic way. It wasn't like they had ever discussed their feelings for each other.

Seth didn't seem relieved by her easy acceptance, however. "I mean it, Tabitha. I'm not going to take off and start pretending that everything is the same as it ever was when it's not."

"I know it isn't."

"Then you agree with me?" His expression eased, like he was delighted to have gotten his way.

"I don't know what you're expecting me to agree to." Figuring she had nothing to lose, she studied his face. "Seth, I'm sorry, but I don't understand why you even care."

"Tabitha, come on."

"I'm serious." When he continued to look at her incredulously, she went on, pulling back on all her insecurities and shields. "There's nothing between us. Nothing beyond the fact that I used to be your teacher."

"You know there is more between us, Tabitha," he said in a tone that finally settled her mind and caught her complete attention. "I couldn't care less that you used to be my teacher. That has nothing to do with my offer."

She wanted to believe him. She really did. But everything she was thinking about seemed so fanciful and outlandish. "You still aren't telling me why."

He looked like he had to think about that for a few seconds. Formulate a suitable reply. "Isn't our friendship enough?"

"No. I refuse to believe that you go around offering to help women in need around Crittenden County in your spare time."

"Good. Because I don't."

She raised an eyebrow. "Then ..."

He groaned under his breath. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

She didn't know what he was withholding from her, but she nodded. "I'm sorry, Seth. I don't want to make you mad at me, but I canna read your mind."

"I care about you." The four words were stark and seemed to be pulled from somewhere deep inside of him. Reluctantly.

Tabitha inhaled sharply.

"Nee. Don't look nervous. Don't look afraid of me. Or of what I want. I would never hurt you. I would never."

"I know that. But, Seth, are you saying that—"

"Yes." Even though she was near tears and he looked helpless and frustrated, there was something about the way he'd said it that made them both smile. "Tabitha Yoder, here's what you've needed to hear but I never wanted to say. I've had a crush on you since I sat in that fool Amish school and you walked in the first day. I thought I'd never seen a prettier woman in my life. And then when you started talking, you were so sweet. Kind. Everyone in that school thought you were special." His voice deepened. "But I used to think other things, even though I knew I shouldn't. I thought you would be perfect for me even though I was your student and you were older than me."

He looked down at his feet. "But then you married Leon and I fought with Peter Miller and ended up in prison. And now ... now I know I'm nothing to you. I probably have no chance. But I wish I did. I want a chance with you. I'm willing to wait as long as you need me to. I'm willing to wait for weeks, months, years ..." He held out a hand. "However long it takes for you to feel the same way. If there's even a chance for you to feel the same way."

He sucked in a breath. "But if there isn't, if you know that you deserve someone better than me, I understand. I do. But I'm still determined to help you because you matter." His eyes flashed hurt and conviction and something else she was afraid to identify. "Even if we go back to me dropping off food and chopping wood while you avoid me, the basic truth about you won't change."

"Basic truth?" She raised an eyebrow, showing him that she thought he was going a little bit over the top.

He didn't take the bait, though. "Yeah, basic truth. If you need me to be even more clear, here it is: You. Matter. To. Me," he continued, punching every word. "No matter what happens in our future, that will never change."

She hadn't known such speeches were possible. Or, if they were, that such speeches would ever be given to her. The tears that she'd been trying so hard to keep at bay released of their own accord.

Seth looked crushed. "Tabitha. I'm sorry."

"Nee." She couldn't say more because her throat was so choked up, she wasn't sure if she was going to be able to swallow, never mind speak.

"Do you want me to leave?"

She shook her head. She didn't know what she wanted except for him to stay where he was. "Stay." When he stilled, she knew she needed to give him more. Even if it embarrassed her, she needed to do this. And so she walked the three steps it took to get by his side and hugged him.

She was glad she couldn't see his face. Glad that he wasn't saying a word. All she needed was what he gave her. He folded his arms around her, guiding her closer until her head rested on his chest. Then he exhaled, easing his stance so they moved imperceptibly together. Practically perfectly meshed.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on to him. Unable to help herself, all her senses came alive. She felt the solid pectoral muscles. The soft scratch of cotton against her cheek. And inhaled his scent. He was a mixture of peppermint and lime, pure Seth and soap. It was perfect, soothing her senses.

But over it all was his heat and the way he made her feel. Like she was someone worth caring about.

You matter. You matter to me.The words roared in her head. Teasing her with their meaning and tempting her to believe it too. She had no words—until she realized that she actually did have something to give to Seth. "You matter to me too," she whispered.

"Ah, Tabitha. There it is."

She released her breath. Because Seth was right. Her feelings were finally out in the open. For better or worse.

Seeming like he didn't need her to say another word, at least not for a few moments, Seth pressed his lips to the top of her head. She felt that touch all the way to her toes.

It might have been wrong, but she was never so glad that she was no longer Amish. Him pressing his lips on her kapp wouldn't have been the same.

Not even close.