Chapter 4

4

A box waited on the front porch, just a foot or so from the door, when Bethanne arrived home. Nearby, Lott and Melonie slowly rocked back and forth on matching chairs while snapping beans into stainless steel bowls.

Well, Melonie was. Lott was eating grapes—when he wasn't gazing at her with puppy-dog eyes. The two of them looked like an advertisement for positive relationships.

Or maybe like a beautiful couple on the cover of a romance novel. Their obvious devotion to each other would encourage the most cynical reader to believe that one day she, too, could enjoy such moments of domestic bliss. Bethanne had sure read enough of those books to recognize that.

The sight of them was bittersweet for Bethanne. For a time, she'd been sure Peter would be so devoted. She'd even fooled herself into imagining that one day he would declare his love for her.

That wasn't even the worst of her childish fantasies. She'd dreamed that he would propose early because he didn't want another man to ever think that he had a chance with her. Then, after a year-long engagement, they'd have a big, joy ous wedding and settle down into married life with ease. She'd gone to sleep at night wondering how many children they'd have.

The silly, girlish thoughts now embarrassed her. She pushed them away with effort as she climbed the steps. "Hi, you two."

Melonie paused her snapping and smiled at her. "Hiya, Bethy."

"Home already?" Lott asked.

"It was fun but so hot." She stopped by the box. "I might go back tomorrow and look at the food tents. I thought y'all would still be there."

"It's my fault." Melonie lifted a bare foot. "I stepped on a piece of glass."

"Oh no. Are you badly hurt?"

"Only my pride. Lott warned me not to wear flip-flops."

"Several times," he added.

Melonie rolled her eyes. "See what I mean?"

Bethanne smiled. "Lott, perhaps it's not the best time to remind Melonie about your warnings."

He shrugged. "It's not my fault that I was right."

"Bethanne, your brother's unbearable. Help me!"

"Gladly. Bruder, perhaps I should remind you that Melonie was not the only woman who wore flip-flops at the fair. Lots of girls wore them!"

Looking triumphant, Melonie turned to him. "See, Lott? It's too hot to wear tennis shoes."

He huffed. "You aren't helping, Bethy."

Softening her voice, Bethanne returned her gaze to Melonie. "I am sorry about your foot, though. Did you have to get stitches?"

"Jah." Melonie smiled. "I'm thanking the good Lord for the volunteers who were able to drive us to urgent care."

"The doctor did a fine job with the stitches," Lott added.

"He would know, since he held my other hand the entire time." Looking dreamy, she added, "Lott even carried me to the volunteer's car!"

Bethanne reckoned that had been quite the romantic sight. Lott with his muscular build and intense expression, and Melonie blond and delicate-looking in her tangerine-colored dress. "Sounds very heroic." And, dare she say, a little bit over the top?

"She was hurting," he explained. "After she got on her way, I got my bike and met her there."

Looking at Lott fondly, Melonie added, "He even stayed by my side when I got a tetanus shot. It hurt something awful."

"She's supposed to stay off her foot for a couple of days, so I took her home on my bike."

Lott had an electric bike. Two people sharing it wasn't safe, though. "I hope Mamm and Daed don't find out about that."

"I'm more worried about Seth finding out. But I sure wasn't going to let her walk home."

Melonie nodded. "Even though my brother has Tabitha to worry about, Seth still tries to watch my every move." Nibbling on her bottom lip, she added, "He's going to have something to say when he discovers that I got hurt."

"Sounds like a brother. I wouldn't worry about him getting upset with you, though. It was just an accident, plus Seth is even-tempered and kind."

"He is at that."

Lott gestured to the third rocking chair. "You want to join us?"

"Thank you, but I'm in need of a shower and a break from the heat." Bethanne looked down at the box still resting near the door. "Do you know if these are my manuscripts?"

"They sure are," he said. "Paul stopped by about twenty minutes ago. He said there's a note inside for you."

"Danke."

"Are those all for you to review?" Melonie asked.

"Yep. It's become a good job. I read them, write my honest reviews, then type them out on the computer at the library and send them to the book publisher."

"I still can't believe you get paid for doing your favorite hobby."

Sometimes Bethanne couldn't believe it either. "It does seem too good to be true. But the checks still come."

"I'm right proud of ya, Bethy." Lott looked at Melonie. "I happened to see the note that was in with her last paycheck. Her boss said she's a terrific reviewer."

Melonie grinned. "Good for you!"

"He was only being nice. And Lott shouldn't have read the note. It was personal."

"Not that personal. I'm glad I read it, anyway. If I hadn't, no one would ever know how good you are at your job. All you ever tell Mamm, Daed, and me is that you're thankful for the work."

"I am thankful. But you're embarrassing me."

He peered up at her. "There's nothing wrong with being good at something, Bethy."

"I have to agree with him," Melonie said. "Pride might be a fault, but ignoring one's gifts can be a fault too."

Tired of discussing herself, Bethanne squatted down to pick up the box. "I think it's time I got busy. I'd hate to lose my job after garnering all this praise."

Lott stood. "That box has to be heavy. I'll get it for you."

Glad to have her brawny brother carry the box upstairs to her room, she happily straightened and moved to the side. "See you later, Mel."

Melonie again stopped snapping beans. "Hey, want to have lunch or go for a walk sometime next week?"

"Sure." Thinking quickly, she said, "How about Tuesday or Wednesday?"

"That works for me. Let's do lunch on Wednesday. Say eleven?"

"That's perfect. See you then."

Lott grunted. "May I carry this heavy box upstairs now or would you like to make more plans for your social calendar?"

"Oh, hush. Come on before you collapse in pain," she teased.

"They're heavier than they look."

"I appreciate your muscles."

"Hmph." In her room, he faced her. "Where do you want this?"

"Anywhere is fine."

"Nee, tell me, Bethy. Once I put them down, I'm not going to want to pick them back up and you aren't either."

"Fine." She pointed to her desk. "On top of my desk. I'll unpack them there." When he clunked the box down with a loud sigh, she smiled. "Danke, Lott."

"Anytime." He headed for the door but then stopped. "Bethanne?"

"Jah?"

"I ... I'm real proud of you."

"For what? Reviewing books?"

"To be sure, but I meant for the way you made plans with Melonie just now. You've come a long way."

He was right. Six months ago, she wouldn't have been able to do that. The Lord had really been working with her, she realized. He'd not only opened her eyes but her heart as well. She was slowly accepting more people into her circle and didn't get nearly as frightened as she used to when she was outside the house.

Pleased that he'd noticed, she smiled. "Danke. It feels good. For the longest time, even walking out of this room took a lot of effort."

"You're healing. The Lord hasn't forgotten you and neither have I."

"Danke," she whispered.

He stepped into the hallway before popping his head back into her room. "Hey, I almost forgot. Did Candace win?"

"She did. Our cousin is now Miss Crittenden County."

He whistled low. "Wonders never cease."

"I agree. I think she deserves it, though."

"Jah. It's good to see something nice happen to a good person."

Her brother headed for the stairs, and once again, Bethanne was alone. Surrounded by books and all her favorite things. For so many years, she'd viewed this room as her safe place. Sometimes, it had felt like her only safe place. Thinking back to those awful months surrounding Peter's death and Seth Zimmerman's trial, she shivered.

One time, she'd gotten herself into such a state that her father had taken off the lock on her door. He and her mother had been so afraid that she would harm herself and the lock would prevent them from helping her. She hadn't been thinking about harming herself, though. No, all she'd wanted was to have complete control over her surroundings. She'd twisted things up in her mind, sure that someone was going to come in while she slept.

Eventually, her fears had eased and she'd begun to feel relatively safe in the house. Lott and their parents had been so relieved about that, they had coddled and catered to her. And she'd let them do it. For years.

Now, she realized that both her family and the Lord had given her grace. They'd accepted her as she was and given her time to heal. Eventually, she took back responsibility over her life and started feeling like she could be in charge of who she saw, who she interacted with, and what she did with her time.

It hadn't been easy. She'd had setbacks. Lots of them. But she did the best she could. No matter who had tried to get her to change—the bishop, her parents, the counselor—she'd fought against it. Only after watching Tabitha and Seth Zimmerman overcome their obstacles did she decide that she needed to start leaving the house. Now, she was even able to make future plans with a friend instead of determining what she was capable of each morning.

After picking up a pair of scissors, Bethanne deftly sliced through the seal, opened the flaps, and stared down at the collection of manuscripts packed neatly inside. Out of habit, she looked at the first two and checked to see if any of the authors were ones she'd read before.

But instead of choosing one to begin, she set them back inside. She didn't feel like diving in. Not yet. Curling up in her window seat, she looked outside and thought about Lott and Melonie on the porch.

And then, against her will, she thought about Jay Byler. And realized that she didn't dislike him as much as she used to. Of course, maybe she'd never actually disliked him at all. He'd just reminded her of things she'd preferred not to think about.

That had been a foolish endeavor, for sure and for certain.

"Some things—or maybe some people—are simply unforgettable," she mused. Like the way Jay seemed to stare at her so intently that he could read her mind.

Imagining such a thing, Bethanne almost smiled.

But then she realized that there were many, many things that were unforgettable. Some of which didn't just catch her imagination, they gripped her nightmares. Some nights the images appeared again, playing over and over. Holding her captive.

She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to push back a current of dread and darkness. But it was too late. All the memories had returned. She felt chilled again. Before she could help herself, she walked to her door and closed it tight.

Just for peace of mind.