Chapter 22

22

Jay had spent the last thirty minutes helping Lott and Seth Zimmerman stack chairs and take down the long rectangular tables. As they'd worked, the tea lights that had been illuminating the space slowly ran out of wax. One by one, each of them extinguished. In addition, the fire in the pit had now ebbed to low flames.

When the last of the chairs had been stacked, Lott stretched his arms out in front of him. "I don't think we need to do any more tonight. This is clean enough for now."

Seth looked relieved. "All right then, I'm going to head home. I bet Tabitha's wondering what's taking us so long. I took her home almost an hour ago."

"I appreciate you coming back," Lott said as they clasped hands.

"You need a ride, Jay?" Seth asked.

"Sure, but I want to say good night to Bethanne first." He looked at Lott. "Do you know where she is?"

Lott shrugged. "Inside with the women?"

After asking Seth to give him a couple of minutes, Jay went inside to the kitchen. But only three women—two Amish and one English—were sitting at the kitchen table drinking ice water.

Martha smiled at him. "Are you heading home, Jay?"

"Jah. Seth is going to give me a ride, but I wanted to say good night to Bethanne first. Have you seen her?"

"Nee. I thought she was outside."

Another lady at the table, this one dressed English, frowned. "She was with Candace. Look for an English girl with long blond hair and you'll probably find Bethy."

"I know Candace. I haven't seen her for a while either." Thinking back, he murmured, "Last I saw, they were walking together holding hands."

Martha and the English woman looked at each other and smiled. "They used to do that when they were little girls. I would call them my paper dolls," Martha said. "You know how paper dolls have linked hands when you cut them out of paper?"

Jay had no idea what Bethanne's mother was talking about. "Nee. I can't say that I have much experience with them," he teased.

"I reckon not," Candace's mother said. "Anyways, if they're together, I'm sure they're fine."

Martha suddenly looked more serious. "You know, they weren't in here when we all washed dishes. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but it isn't like Bethanne not to offer to help. Jay, when did you see the two of them together?"

"A while ago." Trying to give a better estimation of the time, he shrugged. "It had to have been an hour ago at the least. I was talking with Bishop Wood when I spied them."

The third woman in the kitchen tapped her finger on the edge of her glass. "The bishop left over an hour ago."

Candace's mother stood. "Maybe they're up in Bethanne's room. I'll go check." She started toward the hallway. "If they went up there and lost track of time, it wouldn't be the first time."

"Danke, Dora."

The back door opened, and Seth poked his head inside. "Jay, you ready now?"

Jay shook his head. "Sorry, I'm not. You go on ahead."

Seth stepped into the kitchen. "What's going on?"

"We're looking for Bethanne and Candace."

Seth frowned. "What do you mean?"

"We just realized none of us have seen them in over an hour now."

"Dora went to see if they're upstairs," Martha said. "I'm sure they're—"

"They're not upstairs." Dora's concerned voice preceded her into the kitchen.

Martha stood and headed for the living room. "John? Come here, would'ja?"

"Ach, I know it's late. We're almost done."

"Nee, it's about Bethanne."

Low murmuring was followed by movement, as all the men who were with John walked into the kitchen.

"I don't know what John is going to do if something happened to her," Martha whispered.

Jay didn't know what he would do either. "Let's not go borrowing trouble yet." It was in his nature to reassure, but the truth was that he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Bethy's probably fine."

"Bethy? What's wrong with Bethy?" John asked as he looked around the room. "Did she get sick? Where is she?"

"That's the problem," Martha answered. "We don't know where she is."

John's expression gentled as he squeezed his wife's shoulder. "Come now, Martha. You know better than to get yourself into such a state. She's fine. There are a lot of people here."

It was obvious that she was now barely holding it together and that her temper was about to fly. Jay stepped forward. "Sorry, but there aren't many people left outside. Lott, Seth, and I have been stacking chairs and folding tables. I don't think she's out there."

When it looked like John was about to protest again, Jay quickly explained what he and the others had done during the last ten or fifteen minutes. Bethanne's father listened, his expression slowly transforming from relaxed to confused to concerned.

Candace's father cleared his throat. "Okay, everyone. Let's not get too spun up. If she's with Candace, then we can reach them on her cell phone. That girl never takes a step without it." Pulling out his own phone, he made a call.

They all waited with bated breath. Jay figured each one of them was doing the same thing he was—hoping and praying that a sleepy Candace was about to pick up.

After four rings, he disconnected. "She didn't answer. If she was sleeping, though, she might not pick up. I'll try her again."

While Wayne made the call again, Jay considered other options. "How did she get here? Did she ride over with you?" he asked Dora.

"No, she drove separately in case we wanted to leave before she did." She looked at her husband, who lowered his phone from his ear and shook his head. "Wayne, go see if her car is still here."

"On it." He went out the back door.

John placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Maybe they went for a ride together and lost track of time."

"Maybe," Martha replied, but she looked as doubtful as Jay felt. He couldn't imagine Bethanne leaving her father's party without telling her mother—or someone.

"We canna jump to conclusions," John said. Lowering his voice, he added, "Thinking the worst doesn't do anyone any good."

"He's right," Seth agreed.

"I just ... I just wish we knew where she was."

Lott moved toward his mother. "I'm sure she's somewhere obvious, Mamm. We're just getting each other riled up and thinking the worst."

Jay felt a little responsible for that. "I'm sorry. I was just concerned."

Lott shook his head. "Nee. You're only looking out for them."

When the front door opened ten minutes later, everyone in the kitchen turned toward the hallway. Wayne soon appeared, his footsteps quick and his eyes wide. "Candace's car is still out there. And worse"—he paused, visibly attempting to control himself—"her purse was on the ground." He swallowed. "And a kapp."

Martha swayed for a moment, and Lott rushed to her side and helped her sit down. With everyone seemingly stunned speechless, Jay decided to take the lead. After all, he'd been the one to notice Bethanne's absence and start searching for her.

And—he loved her. He loved her enough to risk everyone's fear and doubt in order to do the right thing, and that was to call Ryan Mulaney. "I'm going to call the police station."

"Jay, I fear you're jumping to conclusions," John said.

Jay felt sorry for Bethanne's father. The man was so afraid to learn something bad about his daughter that he was willing to fool himself.

"I hope I'm wrong, John," he said quietly. "I would like nothing more than for Bethanne and Candace to walk in the house and tease me for imagining that something awful happened." He took a deep breath. "But if they don't, I'm never going to forgive myself if I wait."

"The police may think we're worried for nothing."

"I don't care what they think. I've loved Bethanne for years now. I stood aside when it seemed she wanted my best friend. I patiently laid low as she recovered and then barely left the house. But I'm finally in her life now. There's no way I'm going to let her go—let go of my dream of having Bethanne as my wife. I need to do something now."

"Here," Wayne said as he handed Jay the phone. "We know Ryan. When he first started escorting her to events, he gave her his cell number. She passed it on to me."

Ryan's contact information was on the phone screen. All Jay had to do was tap Call.

So he did. And held his breath until the police officer answered.