Abiding Mercy Page 15

  “And miss golfing on the Howth peninsula? You love Ireland. I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “It isn’t too late for you to join me. You could shop in Dublin while I’m in meetings. We can extend the stay and make a real vacation out of it.”

  Roslyn shook her head. “I have things I need to do here.” Persuade the authorities to open Adriana’s case, something she should have insisted on long ago.

  Brandon’s scrutinizing gaze mirrored the worried look he’d given her all those years ago.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, adding, “really” when his expression didn’t change.

  “Roslyn, I’m not going to lie. I’m worried about you. You haven’t been the same since you came back from New York.”

  Knowing Brandon, he wouldn’t leave the country without first touching base with Leon. Her brother had been on call since the day of Adriana’s kidnapping. When counseling wasn’t enough to snap her out of it—or to free her from what Leon had diagnosed as Prolonged Grief Disorder—her brother suggested a more intense approach and convinced Brandon she needed to be institutionalized for an extended stint. Drowning in despair, Roslyn hadn’t protested. Besides, the accommodations were more spa-like than the clinical straitjacket surroundings she had envisioned, but even those doctors couldn’t take the pain away. When she first arrived at Mission Stone Manor, the interpersonal psychotherapy, psychiatrist’s mental probing, and the mandatory group chats almost pushed her beyond return. But she adapted.

  “I’ll cancel the trip. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “I’m not going to fall apart again,” she protested. “I’m much stronger now. I won’t allow it.”

  He studied her a moment. Probably wondering if she’d stopped taking her medication, slipped back into depression. Far from it. Chrisla’s drawings had given her weary soul a reason to hope.

  Roslyn rose to her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his jaw. “You need to get going or you’ll miss your flight.” Before he objected, she gently tugged his arm and led him back into the kitchen.

  Thankfully, Chrisla had had the forethought to put the drawings away.

  “Are you going to be in town this week?” Brandon asked her sister.

  “He’s worried about me being alone,” Roslyn explained.

  “The boys have a swim meet on Saturday, but it’s in town.” Her sister wiggled her brows at Roslyn as if trying to prompt more information.

  “Good. Do you mind watching over my wife? See that she eats.”

  Roslyn rolled her eyes. Brandon always compared her to a kite—paper thin and easily blown away in a stiff breeze.

  Chrisla looped her arm with Roslyn’s. “Would you like to come for pot roast tonight?”

  “Sure. Thank you.”

  “And the boys would love you to come to their swim meet.”

  “Fine.” Roslyn stooped and picked up her husband’s bags. “Now that that’s settled, please don’t worry about me, Brandon.” A smile underscored her words. “Okay?”

  He nodded and a faint smile appeared.

  “C’mon,” Roslyn said as she led the way to the door.

  “I’ll call you.” He kissed her lightly on the lips, then headed out to the garage.

  Roslyn closed the door and spun to face her sister. “Where did you put the drawings? I need to see them again.”

  Chrisla removed the artwork from her leather portfolio, spaced the drawings over the table, then stepped back. “So, I take it Brandon’s supportive of having the case reopened.”

  “No, but we’re going to get the ball rolling while he’s out of town.”

  Roslyn studied the pictures. Which, if any, of Chrisla’s renderings were accurate? Adriana’s big blue eyes stared back at her. “My sweet girl, if you’re out there . . . Mommy’s going to find you and bring you home.”

  Chapter 20

  Posen, Michigan

  Present day

  The customers have all left,” Faith said, entering the kitchen with an armload of dirty dishes.

  Catherine looked up from scrubbing the grill. “Did you flip the sign?”

  “I will after I get these soaking.” Faith lowered the stack into the basin. It’d been a hard day, especially without Olivia. Her sister arrived late, waited tables during the lunch rush, then complained of a headache and went home. But even though they were busy, Faith and Catherine worked as a team and the day sped by.

  Catherine brought the dirty frypan over to the sink. “You think Olivia will feel better by tomorrow?”

  “Something tells me nay. I’m sure she’ll want to do something with her Englisch friends since it’s the Fourth of July.”

  “I have to say, Faith, I’m impressed how well you’ve handled the weight and responsibility of the restaurant with your parents in the hospital. At the same time, I’m disappointed in Olivia. She’s older than you, and she should have taken the brunt of the load. Instead, she’s more interested in her rumspringa.”

  Faith considered telling Catherine about the money stashed in the barn, but decided it was best to change the topic. “If today was any indication of how busy the holiday weekend is going to be, we’re going to need more help. Maybe we can stop by—” Faith sucked in a sharp breath as the back door swung open, then closed.

  “Just me,” Gideon called from the back. His boots scuffed the floor as he strolled out from the shadows of the storage shelving and smiled at Faith. “Hiya.”

  “Did you fix your crop watering problem?”

  He shook his head. “Nett totally.”

  Catherine stepped away from the stove. “Hello, Gideon. Did you kumm to help?”

  “Absolutely.” He sidled up beside Faith at the sink and began rolling up his sleeves. “Busy day today?”

  “Jah, but we need more days like today.” She’d rather go home exhausted from being on her feet all day than go home exhausted from watching the clock tick with no customers to serve. “I feel bad you’re always put to work when you kumm here.”

  “I wouldn’t turn down free labor if I were you.”

  She chuckled. “Oh, trust me. I’m nett a fool.” Except she was a fool, falling in love with her sister’s bu.

  He motioned to the sink. “I’ll take over here if you want to help Catherine and Olivia.”

  “Olivia went home early with a headache, or so she said.” Faith spun toward the double doors and spoke over her shoulder as she pushed them open. “But nau that you’re here, I have things to finish in the dining room.”

  Noticing the sign hadn’t been flipped, Faith went to the front window. As she reached for the sign, the bell over the door jingled. “I’m sorry, but we’re—”

  A gloved hand with a turpentine stench covered her mouth and something cold pressed against the side of her head.

  “Open the register,” the man growled under the bandana draping the lower part of his face. He shoved her forward, then slapped a canvas bag on the display case. “Fill it.”

  Her hands trembled, pressing the buttons on the register.

  The kitchen door whooshed open. “Catherine thought she heard—” Gideon halted midstep as the masked man slammed Faith’s back against his chest.

  “Stay back!” He pressed the gun barrel harder against her head. “I’ll put a bullet through her skull!”

  Gideon lifted his hands, soap suds dripping down his arms. “Let her go.”

  The man’s grip tightened over her mouth as he aimed the gun at Gideon.

  “Don’t hurt him.” His soiled glove muffled her voice, her plea in vain. Lord, help us!

  “Put the money in the bag,” he shouted at Gideon.

  Gideon’s hands shook as he emptied the cash from the drawer.

  Don’t shoot. Oh, Lord, stop him, please.

  The gunman snatched the bag, but instead of releasing her, he pushed her toward the door.

  No! She wouldn’t let him take her. Not outside. Not in his vehicle. If he was going to kill her, she wanted to die here. Faith jab
bed her elbow into his ribs, which seemed to irritate him more. His hand clamped down hard over her nose and mouth, blocking her airway. Dots of bright lights muddied her vision. She wasn’t aware of the door opening until a red-haired man appeared at the threshold.

  The newcomer approached the gunman. “Release the woman,” he said authoritatively. “You’re not going to shoot. Hand me the weapon.”

  In a split second, the gunman turned the gun on the red-haired man. Click. Click. Click. The man looked at the gun, then tossed it and released Faith before fleeing the restaurant.

  Between hiccupping gasps, her legs wobbled and the room spun.

  Gideon’s strong arms pressed her against his chest. “It’s over. You’re safe, Faith. You’re safe,” he repeated.

  Burying her face in the crook of Gideon’s neck, she closed her eyes and let his soothing words melt the tension from her muscles. She was safe. It was over. Lord, danki for keeping us safe and for sending the red-haired man to help. Faith leaned back to look Gideon in the eyes. “Where’s the man?”

  “He ran off with the money. I’m sorry, Faith.”

  Tears washed over her face as she scanned the room for the homeless man. “Where’s the man with red hair?”

  Catherine pushed through the double doors. Her brows creased and worry lines etched her forehead. “Are you two okay?”

  Faith broke from Gideon’s embrace and, though she turned her attention to her cousin, she could still feel Gideon’s eyes on her. “We are nau.”

  Catherine rushed over to Faith and enveloped her in a hug so tight the air left her lungs. “I called the police. They should be here any minute.”

  Faith made a sidelong glance at Gideon, who was taking a few deep breaths. He’d been shaken as well.

  A short time later, Officer Porter arrived. He collected the gun, then took notes as Faith and Gideon gave a full account of the event.

  “The man’s gloves smelled like turpentine or maybe gasoline.” Faith’s stomach knotted.

  “Forensics should be able to get a sample of residue off the gun.” He picked up the evidence bag containing the weapon. “I’ll need an idea of how much money was stolen for the report.”

  “I hadn’t tallied today’s receipts yet. Should I do that nau?” Faith wiped her shaky hands on her dress. She wasn’t sure she could concentrate on the sales figures at the moment. Perhaps Catherine or Gideon could do the calculations.

  “I’d like to ask you about the red-haired man you mentioned.” The officer glanced at his notepad. “Did he leave at the same time as the gunman?”

  Faith nodded. He’d left before she could thank him. The bold man had placed himself in harm’s way and demanded the robber put the gun down as if he had authority over him.

  As the policemen dusted the doorknob, the doorframe, the glass display case the register sat on, and numerous other objects in the room, Faith added up the meal tickets. When she finished counting, she asked Catherine to do the same. Catherine’s figure matched Faith’s. Clearly it’d been one of their busiest days all year, and now the money was gone. What would her mother think of her now? Just yesterday Mamm had praised Faith on how well she’d been doing at work.

  Fighting back the tears, Faith escaped into the kitchen.

  Gideon wasn’t many steps behind her. “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head. “Mei parents needed that money to pay bills. They trusted me to run things and I let them down.”

  He tipped her chin up with his thumb. “Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

  She blinked, releasing the tears that weighted down her lashes. “I’m glad you were here, Gideon.”

  He cupped her face and brushed his thumbs against her wet cheek. “I’m going to drive you to work each day and be here before closing to take you home.”

  “Gideon, you have water tanks to build. You don’t have to—”

  “Shh.” His gaze deepened. “Nothing matters more to me than your safety. Nothing.”

  A slew of emotions bombarded her all at once and she broke down sobbing.

  Gideon took her into his arms. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he said, soothing her sorrows away.

  After a moment, she pushed back and wiped her tears. “Danki, Gideon.”

  He smiled. “It will get better.”

  She nodded, though she wasn’t sure things could. Dishes. Faith pushed up her sleeves and went to the sink. If she hurried, she could get them done before the police finished dusting for fingerprints.

  “I’ll wash.” Gideon joined her at the sink.

  Chapter 21

  The morning following the robbery, Faith’s hands trembled as she worked the key to unlock the back door of the restaurant. Concern etched Gideon’s face. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Jah.” She faked a smile.

  “I’m staying.” He rolled up his shirt sleeves.

  “Gideon, nay.” She had to press through the day despite her balled-up nerves. Things would return to normal, she hoped.

  “It’s Fourth of July,” he reasoned. “You might get busy.”

  She might get used to him facing her fears for her too. She followed Gideon into the dining room, but froze when an image of the gunman’s masked face invaded her mind.

  “Show me how to work this contraption.” Gideon pointed at the coffee machine.

  “You can’t hover over me all day every day.”

  “Let’s just concern ourselves with today,” he said matter-of-factly without looking up from inspecting the buttons on the coffee machine. He picked up the pot. “I fill this with water, right?”

  She gave in and nodded. “I supposed I’d be a fool to turn down help.”

  “I’d say so.”

  Faith measured the coffee, started the brewing process, then retreated into the kitchen to help Catherine, who had already started mixing the bread dough.

  The morning went by smoothly. They managed the breakfast crowd without Olivia’s help. Her sister arrived around lunchtime, though she started the shift complaining about having a headache.

  Once the lunch crowd thinned, Faith made Gideon a grilled Rueben sandwich and fries. But as he ate, she caught him eyeing the wall clock more than once. “Gideon, you don’t have to stay. You can take the sandwich with you if there is something you need to do.”

  “It can wait.” He took a bite of the sandwich.

  “We can manage.” This Fourth of July hadn’t been as busy as other years. “I feel bad for taking up so much of your time.”

  “Don’t.” He kept eating, and when he finished, he washed the dish.

  Faith strode across the kitchen and peered through the window. The room was empty except for Olivia, who was dusting the display case, and Catherine, who was visiting with Zach. Faith faced Gideon. “There isn’t anyone here. I know you have things to do.”

  He glanced up at the clock. “It shouldn’t take me long.”

  “Gideon, I can get a ride home from Catherine.”

  He headed toward the back door. “I’ll be back.”

  Once Gideon left, Faith went into the dining room. Without customers to overhear her, she could tell Olivia about the robbery. But the moment she walked into the room, Olivia begged off the remainder of the day, claiming her headache had worsened. Faith had overheard her sister on the phone with her Englisch friends earlier, talking about a barbecue and going to Rogers City to watch the fireworks.

  “Go,” Faith said. “I hope you feel better.” At least Olivia had worked a few hours today. Faith used the downtime to peel potatoes and chop vegetables for tomorrow’s stew. Her thoughts bounced from the gunman to the red-haired man, who would have been shot had the gun not jammed, to the stolen money and what her parents would say about the matter. Fretting over things she had no control over had worn her out. By the time Gideon returned at the end of the day, she was emotionally exhausted.

  Catherine seemed pleased when Gideon rolled up his sleeves to help. Faith suspected Catherine a
nd Zach had plans after work, the way she was hurrying to reddy-up the kitchen. She didn’t even leave the grill on long enough to see if Gideon was hungry.

  “Would you like me to warm up some yummasetti or pork pie, Gideon?” Faith asked.

  Gideon stopped whistling. “I’m nett hungry.”

  Catherine wasn’t the only one in a hurry. Gideon scrubbed the pots and pans at record speed. He pulled the sink stopper. “Done.”

  “Me too,” Catherine announced.

  Faith put away the dishes. “Let me check the front door one more time.” She’d already triple-checked the lock, but checking one more time wouldn’t hurt. Dead bolt in place, she scanned the room. The floors were swept and mopped, fresh place mats and napkin-rolled utensils were in place, and the coffeemaker was unplugged. The pie carrier was unloaded, and she’d wrapped the remaining slices in cellophane earlier, then stored them in the refrigerator. Satisfied the restaurant was ready for tomorrow, she returned to the kitchen.

  “Would you like a drink to go?” she asked Gideon.

  “Lemonade, please.”

  Faith filled to-go cups with drinks. “How about a piece of cherry pie?”

  “Sounds gut, but let’s take it to go.”

  “Catherine, what about you?”

  “None for me, danki.” She removed her apron and hung it on the hook.

  Faith placed the pie in a to-go container while Gideon grabbed plastic forks, napkins, and straws. At the door she looked around the kitchen, then pressed the code to set the alarm, flipped off the lights, and locked the door.

  “See you tomorrow.” Catherine hurried across the parking lot to her buggy.

  “I think she has important plans,” Faith whispered to Gideon.

  “Mei reason for hurrying tonight too,” he said.

  Mosquitoes buzzed around Faith’s ears as they crossed the parking lot. Dusk was always the worst time of the day for the pesky creatures. In her parents’ buggy she used to stash a small container of cedar leaf oil, which, dabbed on behind the ears, neck, wrists, and ankles, served to repel mosquitoes.

  He untied Bay from the post. “Are you in a hurry to get home?”