Safe Haven for the Holidays

The thrilling Amish Protectors conclusion

Leaving the nursing home where she works, Rosie Glick’s accosted by a man demanding incriminating evidence her murdered boyfriend stole—until Ezra Stoltz scares him off. Now with a killer dead set on silencing the Amish single mother, Ezra must hide Rosie and her baby to keep them safe. But can he expose a sinister conspiracy in time to save the woman he secretly loves?

DEBBY GIUSTI is an award-winning Christian author who met and married her military husband at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Together they traveled the world, raised three wonderful children and have now settled in Atlanta, Georgia, where Debby spins tales of mystery and suspense that touch the heart and soul. Visit Debby online at debbygiusti.com, blog with her at seekerville.Blogspot.com and craftieladiesofromance.Blogspot.com, and email her at Debby@DebbyGiusti.com.

Also By Debby Giusti

Amish Protectors

Amish Refuge

Undercover Amish

Amish Rescue

Amish Christmas Secrets

Military Investigations

The Agent’s Secret Past

Stranded

Person of Interest

Plain Danger

Plain Truth

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Amish Christmas Secrets

Debby Giusti

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08626-4

AMISH CHRISTMAS SECRETS

© 2018 Deborah W. Giusti

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“You did not see the man again?”

“I pray I do not see him again,” Rosie stated.

“I will inquire about him in town,” Ezra said.

“It is not your worry, Ezra. I am sure he left the area last night when we saw him drive past.”

“As focused as he seemed to be to do you harm, Rosie, I do not think he will disappear so easily. Perhaps there is something you are not telling me. Are there secrets you must hide?”

“You need not burden yourself with my mistakes, Ezra. You have your own past with which to struggle.”

Rosie thought of the rumors she’d heard about Ezra. For a period of time, he’d forsaken the Amish way and gotten caught up in the allure of the Englisch.

Something they shared in common.

Still, she did not want to discuss her own past with a man she hardly knew. Ezra had mentioned her secrets, yet undoubtedly, he had secrets of his own.

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed Amish Christmas Secrets, Book 4 in my Amish Protectors series (Book 1, Amish Refuge; Book 2, Undercover Amish; and Book 3, Amish Rescue). With nowhere to go, Rosie Glick turns to Ezra Stoltz when the man who killed the father of her child comes after her. Ezra knows Rosie’s hiding secrets. But Ezra has secrets of his own. The mistakes they both made during their youthful attraction to the Englisch life will haunt them forever, unless they can stop the man who’s out to do Rosie harm. If you carry the guilt of past mistakes, I hope Rosie and Ezra’s story will lead you to forgiveness and peace.

I pray for my readers each day and would love to hear from you. Email me at debby@debbygiusti.com or write me c/o Love Inspired, 195 Broadway, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10007. Visit me at www.debbygiusti.com and at www.Facebook.com/debby.giusti.9.

As always, I thank God for bringing us together through this story.

Wishing you abundant blessings,

Debby

Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son:

In whom we have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins.

—Colossians 1:13–14

This book is dedicated to my wonderful readers.

Thank you for your support and encouragement.

You are the reason I write!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

“Ach,” Rosie Glick moaned as the December wind whipped the kapp from her head and sent it tumbling through the air. She stopped pedaling her bike, then propped it on the kickstand and ran to where the starched headgear had landed, only inches away from the steep drop-off that edged the North Georgia mountain road. She retrieved the kapp and brushed the dust from the stiff fabric, then glanced at the churning water, raging at the bottom of the ravine some twenty feet below. Her stomach roiled at the sharp downward slope and the bevy of boulders positioned along the sides of the incline.

Another gust of wind sent her scrambling back to her bike, all too aware of the growing darkness and encroaching storm. Rosie repositioned the kapp on her head and secured it with hairpins before she climbed on her bike, determined to get home before the sky opened and the rain commenced.

The nervous unease within her that had started in town continued to grow. She thought again of the man in the white sedan, talking on his cell phone. Pedaling past his parked car, she had noticed how much he resembled a person she had seen once and never wanted to see again.

Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her.

Thoughts of that horrific night rolled through her mind. The door to Will MacIntosh’s trailer had pushed open, and the man with the gun had forced Will outside. Rosie had escaped, but she had not run fast enough.

Chilled by the memory, she glanced over her shoulder, relieved to find the road empty of vehicles. The last thing she wanted was to be followed. She felt sure the man in town had not seen her, yet she needed to be careful.

Datt would probably question her late arrival. He had never been a man of compassion, and since she had returned home seven months ago, he seemed increasingly short-tempered.

Even her sweet Mamm struggled with his behavior.

Regrettably, her father would never forgive Rosie for the mistake she had made. Baby Joseph was not the problem. Her own stubborn independence had gotten her in trouble, along with her desire to experience life to the fullest, even if it meant running away with an Englischer.

But Will MacIntosh had been murdered, and she had been trafficked and held captive for eight months. She had spent the last month of her confinement in a dank and dark root cellar where she had given birth to Joseph. The memory of their rescue and reunion with her parents had been bittersweet. If only her father had rejoiced at their homecoming.

Hearing the sound of a car engine, barely audible over the gusting wind, Rosie glanced over her shoulder. A white sedan raced down the hill.

She gasped and pedaled faster.

White automobiles were common among the Englisch, she told herself, hoping to calm her rapid pulse and thumping heart. Her legs burned from the exertion. The roar of the engine filled her ears.

The car’s headlights illuminated the roadway, catching her in their glare. She inched as close to the edge of the road as possible and glanced back. Her heart stopped. The car was headed straight for her. She raised her hand to wave off the driver, but he continued on course.

The front wheel of her bike slipped off the pavement and onto the rocky berm. She lost balance and crashed to the ground. Pain ricocheted through her shoulders as she skidded across the hard-packed earth.

The car stopped. A door slammed. Before she could catch her breath and climb to her feet, the man she had seen in town was leaning over her. Dark brown hair with a long brushstroke of white near his left temple. Narrow eyes and a thin mouth. The same man who had come to Will’s door sixteen months ago.

He grabbed her arm.

“Where is it?” he demanded. “Where’s the information Will stole from me?”

She tried to pull free from his hold.

He slapped her face and twisted her arm. “Tell me.”

She grimaced with pain.

“You were Will’s girlfriend and his accomplice.”

“What?”

“Don’t act dumb. All this time, we didn’t realize what he had taken until the last few days. When I saw you in town, it all became clear. He gave it to you for safekeeping, only we need it back.”

Rosie tried to pull free. “I do not have anything you want.”

“Don’t act like a stupid Amish girl,” he snarled. “You fooled us once, but you can’t fool us again.”

Tears burned her eyes.

“Will needed to be taught a lesson. Maybe you do, too.” He reached for her throat.

“No!”

She clawed at his hands, which he had wrapped around her neck. Her lungs burned like fire. She tried to breathe.

Suddenly, as if hearing someone approach, he eased his hold and cocked his head. His eyes widened as he stood upright and stared for a long moment at the crest of the hill.

Gasping for air, she scooted to the edge of the incline. If only she could escape. But how?

Turning his gaze back to her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “You’re coming with me.”

The thought of being held captive again was too much to bear. She kicked his leg and gouged her fingers in his eyes.

“Aagh!” He dropped his head into his hands.

She turned to flee. He grabbed her shoulder. She jerked free, then tripped and fell to the ground.

“I need that information.” He kicked her once, twice. Air whooshed from her lungs.

She rolled over and saw him raise his work boot again. Cringing, she anticipated the blow, until with one last thrust of his mud-covered boot, he pushed her over the edge of the cliff.

Her head hit a boulder. Prickly thistles and scrub brush scraped her hands and legs. Rocks battered her as she slipped and slid to the bottom on the steep ravine. “Gott, help me,” she moaned until she no longer saw or heard anything.

Ezra Stoltz jiggled the reins and encouraged his mare over the crest of the hill. A car sat parked on the downward slope of the road. A tall man with a thick build stood in the glare of the car’s headlights. He glanced Ezra’s way, then quickly picked up a bike and hurled it over the edge of the roadway. Hurrying back to his car, he climbed behind the wheel, gunned the engine and headed north along the narrow country road.

With a flick of the reins, Ezra urged Bessie forward, the clip-clop of her hooves on the pavement in sync with his rapidly beating heart. Ezra had seen Rosie Glick pass the hardware store on her bike. With the fast-approaching storm, he had wanted to ensure she got home safely and had followed in his buggy. Seeing the man made him all the more concerned for her safety.

Nearing the spot where the car had parked, he pulled Bessie to a stop and jumped to the ground. Peering over the edge of the drop-off, he spied the bike, about ten yards below, and quickly descended to where it was lying.

He glanced at the steep downward slope and the boulders that pocked the hillside. Something near the rushing water caught his eye. He moved closer.

Blue fabric and a white kapp.

Rosie!

He scurried down the hill and kneeled beside her. His heart wrenched as he saw the blood that seeped from her forehead. Her arms were scraped, the hem of her dress torn. He touched her cheek.

“Can you hear me? It’s Ezra Stoltz. Open your eyes, Rosie.”

Ezra’s heart stopped when she failed to respond. Please, Gott, do not let another person die.

Rose blinked her eyes open and gasped, seeing with blurred vision a man’s face close to her own. “No,” she cried.

His hand touched her shoulder. “You took a bad fall.”

She shook her head, trying to identify the voice.

“I will take you home in my buggy.”

Buggy? She blinked, noting his blond hair and blue eyes, which stared questioningly down at her.

“We went to school together. Remember me? Ezra Stoltz?”

Ezra? Not the man in the white car. She breathed out a sigh of relief and raised up on one arm.

The Ezra Stoltz she remembered had been tall and thin and nothing like the broad-shouldered man hovering over her.

He helped her sit up. “Are you dizzy? Does anything hurt?”

Her whole body ached. She touched the tender spot on her forehead.

He leaned closer. “It is a bad cut. You hit one of the rocks as you fell.”

“Did you see what happened?” she asked.

“I saw a man on the side of the road. He tossed your bike down the ravine before he drove away.”

She glanced up the hill. “Where is my bike?”

“I will put it in the buggy, but first, we must tend to your needs.”

Grateful for his help, she tried to find something positive on which to focus. “I am scraped and bruised but not broken.”

“This is something for which we can be thankful.” He smiled, easing a bit of the fear that had tangled along her spine.

Helping her to her feet, he asked, “Are you able to climb the hill?”

“I—I think so.”

“Lean on me,” he suggested.

She had no choice but to accept his help. The incline was steep, and her legs felt like the congealed gelatin she made for her molded salads.

“Oh.” Her knee nearly buckled under her.

“I will carry you.”

Before she could decline his offer, Ezra lifted her effortlessly into his strong arms.

“I am too heavy,” she said, embarrassed by his closeness.

He chuckled. “You are too light. Your mamm must not feed you enough. Hold on, and we will climb this hill together.”

She wrapped her arm around his thick neck and dropped her cheek against his shoulder. Inhaling the masculine scent of him, she questioned her own good sense for allowing a man she barely knew to carry her in his arms.

As Ezra had mentioned, they had been in school together, but he was three years her senior, and she had seen him only a few times after he had completed the eighth level.

Once they reached the roadway, Ezra lifted her into the buggy. “Wait here a moment. Then Bessie and I will take you home.”

Working quickly, he retrieved the bicycle and placed it in the rear of his buggy. “I can fix your bike,” he assured her as he climbed into the seat next to her.

Grateful for his help, she relaxed ever so slightly. He lifted the reins into his hands and encouraged Bessie forward.

Ezra studied the road and then flicked his gaze to her as if to ensure she was all right. “Your mother will be happy when you are home, yah?”

Rosie rubbed her arms and lowered her gaze, thinking of her father’s verbal attack and pointed questions.

“Thank you for your help, Ezra.”

He nodded, perhaps as embarrassed as she was after carrying her in his arms. She brushed the dirt from her skirt and thought of the root cellar where she had been held captive.

She would not go back there. No matter what happened.

The clip-clop of Bessie’s hooves soothed her frayed nerves, and she settled back in the seat, trying to think of what she could tell her parents when they saw the gash on her forehead and her scraped arms and soiled skirt.

Her own clumsiness and being too close to the road’s edge would be truthful. She would not mention the man in the white car. Her mother worried about her well-being. The thought of being run off the road would be too much for Mamm to bear.

Lightning cut across the sky, startling Rosie. Rain pinged against the top of the buggy. The temperature dropped even more, and she shivered in the cold.

Through the steady downpour, she saw the headlights of an approaching vehicle in the distance.

Her heart thumped a warning.

“Do you see the lights?” she asked.

“Yah. You think it could be the man who threw your bike into the ravine?”

“Am I foolish to think he would return?”

“Not if you know the reason he wishes to do you harm.”

Unwilling to share her past with Ezra, she sighed. “I—I am not certain.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

“I was involved with the wrong person,” she finally admitted. “It is too much to tell now, but that might be the reason.”

Ezra flicked the reins and encouraged Bessie to increase her pace, which only troubled Rosie more. Instead of turning around in hopes of eluding the vehicle, Ezra was driving the buggy straight toward the approaching danger.

Fear gripped her anew. “Ezra, stop the buggy so I can run into the woods and hide.”

He ignored her request and hurried the mare even more.

Lightning illuminated the sky and a crash of thunder sounded nearby. Bessie’s ears raised. She snorted, no doubt skittish because of the storm.

“Please, Ezra.” Rosie nudged his arm. “Stop the buggy.”

The car was fast approaching. She could hear the roar of the engine just around the bend and could envision being caught in the oncoming glare of headlights.

She swallowed down the fear that clogged her throat and grabbed Ezra’s hand, trying to make him realize the seriousness of her plight.

He pushed aside her hand.

Her heart crashed. Accepting a ride from Ezra had been a bad decision. The boy she remembered from school was cocky, but always considerate of others.

She raised her voice. “Stop the buggy now, and let me out.”

The glare of headlights preceded the car around the bend. She gasped, fearing the man from town would accost her again. Tears stung her eyes at the hopelessness of her situation.

Seemingly at the last possible moment, Ezra tugged the reins right. The mare turned onto a narrow dirt lane that angled off the main road. A canopy of tree branches brushed against the buggy’s roof.

Rosie glanced at the road just as a white sedan raced past. Instead of being seen, Ezra had maneuvered the buggy into a hiding place that protected them both.

She let out a ragged breath.

Ezra leaned close, his face mere inches from hers. Concern filled his gaze and his voice was tight with emotion.

“Who is he, Rosie?” Ezra demanded. “Who is after you and why?”

TWO

“Take me home, Ezra.”

“Who is after you, Rosie?” he again demanded.

“You have heard recently on the news of bikes being forced off the road and of Amish injured for no likely reason.”

He nodded. “Yah, this I have heard. But those incidents were caused by unruly teenagers who wanted to make trouble. This white car was not driven by a teen.”

“Did you see the driver?” Her tone was rife with defiance.

“Only from a distance when I first crested the hill. The windows of his car were tinted. With the failing light, I could see nothing when the vehicle passed by just now.”

“Then you cannot say who was at the wheel.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Rosie had been a determined young girl in school. She was even more so now. If only she would explain what had happened to her and why.

Ezra had no doubt that it involved Will MacIntosh, a known troublemaker who had convinced Rosie of his love. Will had gotten tied up in a number of schemes and died because of his involvement. Ezra had thought Rosie was an innocent bystander, but now he wondered if she knew more than she was willing to reveal.

She started to climb down from the buggy.

“Where are you going?” He grabbed her arm. “I will take you home.”

“You do not have to do this.”

“You are in danger, Rosie. Accept my help.”

She hesitated for a moment, then with a stiff sigh, she scooted back onto the seat next to him. “You are a generous man, Ezra.”

He almost laughed. His father had called him confused and misguided. Even now, many in the Amish community were less than cordial when they passed in their buggies. Ezra had spent too much time associating with the Englisch, trying to find his way in life.

With a flick of the reins, he turned Bessie onto the main road. The temperature had dropped, and although the rain had eased, the damp air was chilling. Ezra grabbed a blanket off the back seat and wrapped it around Rosie’s slender shoulders.

“I am not cold,” she insisted, yet her shivering body revealed the truth. He did not mention her pale skin or the fatigue that even the darkness could not hide.

Under other circumstances, he would have lit the lanterns at the sides and rear of the buggy, but tonight, caution was important in case they needed to hide in the underbrush again.

Someone wanted to do Rosie harm.

Do not get involved, Ezra’s voice of reason warned. The advice came too late. Whether he liked it or not, he was already involved.

Rosie and Ezra traveled in silence as the buggy meandered along the narrow mountain road. The closer they drew to her house, the more concerned she became about facing her father and anticipated his caustic words and demeaning gaze. If not for Joseph, she would run immediately upstairs and hole up in her room. But her child was the only spark of joy in her life, and she would not reduce the limited time she had with him. If only she did not have to work and could be with him throughout the day. Her father had recently demanded payment from her to cover the cost of food and shelter, which had left Rosie with no choice but to take employment in town.

“Thank you,” she said to Ezra as her parents’ home came into view. “You were very kind to bring me home.”

“I will fix your bike and return it to you. I have much to do tonight, but day after tomorrow, it should be ready.”

“Danke.”

“I must return to town in the morning, so I will drive you to work.”

His offer bought tears to her eyes. She glanced away, thankful for the darkness so he could not see her reaction.

“I do not want to take advantage of your thoughtfulness,” she said, her voice filled with emotion that even she recognized.

“It is no trouble. What time do you start work?”

“At seven. It is too early, yah?”

“I will be at your house by six fifteen.”

“I will be ready.” She started to climb down and then hesitated. “The man who came after me has brown hair with a patch of white at his temple. He thinks I have something that belongs to him.”

She hopped to the ground and ran toward her house. The front door opened and her datt stepped onto the porch.

“You are late,” he grumbled.

“An older patient named Mr. Calhoun was in pain and needed help.” She lowered her eyes and hurried past him. Before stepping inside, she paused and gazed back at the roadway.

Ezra glanced over his shoulder. Even from this distance, she could see the smile that played over his full lips.

Her father scowled. “Why does Ezra Stoltz bring you home?”

“I fell from my bike. He was good enough to help me.”

“He is not someone with whom I want you to associate.”

Her heart sank. Why was anything she ever wanted to do forbidden by her father?

“You remember what happened to his parents.”

Their buggy shop had been robbed and his mother and father had been murdered during the break-in, but their tragic deaths had nothing to do with Ezra.

Rosie’s father scowled even more. “Ezra was drinking at a bar in town that day instead of helping his father in his shop.”

Which probably saved Ezra’s life. He might have been killed, along with his parents, if he had been home. Not that she was willing to voice her objection to her father. Some battles were not worth fighting.

“He has not courted or taken a wife,” her father continued. “Nor has he joined the church. This is not a man with whom I wish my daughter to associate.”

Her heart ached at her father’s bigotry. Did he not see the plank in his own eye?

“I am not looking for a husband, Datt.” Her voice was firm.

“Joseph needs a father.”

Rosie could not argue. Her son needed a father, but that did not mean she needed a husband.

She stepped into the kitchen, smelling the homemade bread and hearty beef stew her mother had served for the evening meal. Her mouth watered and she realized she had been busy helping patients all day and had failed to take either her lunch or her evening break.

Food could wait. She quickly washed her hands at the sink and then hurried to where her son sat playing on the floor. She raised Joseph into her arms and smothered him with kisses until he giggled and nuzzled her neck. He was eight months old with a happy disposition and a laugh that drove away any thought of her problems.

Rosie’s heart soared. Nothing mattered except her child.

“Ach, what has happened?” Her mother’s eyes were wide as she pointed to the scrapes and scratches on Rosie’s face and hands.

“I fell from my bike.”

“You have a bad cut to your forehead. Sit.” She pointed to the kitchen table. “I saved a bowl of stew. You are hungry, yah?”

Holding Joseph in her left arm, Rosie slipped onto the bench at the table, bowed her head and offered a prayer of thanks for her safe return home before she eagerly lifted a heaping spoonful of stew to her mouth.

“After you eat and prepare Joseph for bed, then you will tell me what made you late coming home from work.”

Her mother had a keen sixth sense. Rosie would be careful not to reveal what really had happened lest Mamm worry too much.

“The uneven pavement on the road caused me to fall, Mamm. I was not hurt.”

“For this, I am glad, but the cut needs doctoring.”

Her mother retrieved a first-aid kit from a kitchen cabinet and dampened a cloth that she wiped over Rosie’s forehead. After cleaning the area, she applied ointment and covered the cut with a bandage.

“The town is decorated for Christmas, yah?” her mother asked as she returned the kit to the cabinet.

“Candy canes and snowmen hang from the streetlights.” Rosie smiled. “Joseph would enjoy seeing the hanging lights and evergreen wreaths.”

Although after what had happened today, Rosie did not want Joseph anywhere near town. She glanced at the end of the table, noting an envelope that had surely come in the mail.

In hopes of further distracting her mother from what had happened tonight, Rosie asked, “You received a Christmas card today?”

“From your cousin, Alice. She said baby Becca is growing and big sister Diane is almost as tall as their kitchen table.”

“Diane is a sweet girl. I am glad you cared for her when Alice was on bed rest before Becca was born.”

Mamm offered a weak smile. “She filled a void when you were gone.”

The pain in her mother’s eyes tore at Rosie’s heart. She dropped her spoon into the bowl and scooted back from the table. Mamm rarely talked about that time when Rosie was held captive, for which she was grateful. Perhaps her mother’s worry about Rosie arriving home late tonight had loosened her tongue.

“I will wash the dishes after I put Joseph to bed.”

“No need to hurry, Rosie. There is only your bowl. I will have it washed and back in the cabinet before you return.”

Rosie climbed the stairs with Joseph in her arms. She changed his diaper and dressed him in a fresh sleeper before they cuddled in the rocker. She crooned a lullaby as he nestled in her arms, her heart bursting with love for this sweet child.

His eyes drifted closed, but she continued to hold him, taking comfort from his precious closeness. His tiny hand clutched her finger, signaling their connection. Both of them had been through so much.

She thought back to Joseph’s birth as she labored alone in the dark and damp root cellar. She had prayed her child would be born healthy and without complication. Gott had heard and answered her prayer. Somehow she had given birth to sweet Joseph, and for his first month of life, she had kept him warm and fed and secure in spite of their dire circumstances. Finally, they had been rescued and returned home.

The look on her father’s face when he first saw them circled through her mind—it was one of relief, then shock when he noticed the baby in her arms. If not for her mother’s heartfelt cries of joy and her warm embrace, Rosie might have run away again. The truth was she had no place to go and no one to give her and her son shelter.

She kissed Joseph’s sweet cheek, laid him in his crib and covered him with a blanket.

Locking the door to the room they shared, she untucked the bottom edge of the quilt on her bed. Carefully, she worked her fingers along the stitched covering, and sighed when she felt the small toy and the money she had hidden there, both of which her father would not have approved. William had purchased the toy for their baby a few days after they learned Rosie was pregnant. She had secreted it away, knowing her father would not approve of anything William had given her.

Relieved that her secret hiding spot had not been discovered, Rosie slipped out of her torn dress and into her nightgown, but she was unwilling to go back downstairs. She did not have the energy to face her datt’s questioning gaze or the concern she had seen earlier in her mother’s eyes. Plus, she did not want to talk about her foolish mistake of falling for an Englisch man, which had caused her mother so much pain.

Rosie crawled into her narrow bed and extinguished the lamp. For these last seven months, since she and Joseph had been found, Rosie thought she had been safe, but the car tonight had run her off the road. The man demanded information Will had stolen.

Her stomach tightened. For her child’s sake, she needed to find out what Will had done. When Joseph was older, he would want to know the truth about his father.

Her eyes had not fooled her today. The man with the streak of white hair was the same man she had seen at Will’s trailer.

The man had killed the father of her child.

Now he was coming after her.

THREE

Ezra woke with a start the next morning and blinked, trying to distance himself from the dreams that had circled through his mind. He had tossed and turned all night as visions of a young Amish woman with golden hair and blue eyes disturbed his usually placid slumber. What was it about Rosie Glick that put him in such a state of flux?

With a heavy sigh, he rose from the bed, feeling confused and frustrated by the way his mind continued to focus on her troubled gaze that tugged at his heart. He poured cold water from the pitcher into the ceramic basin and washed with a vengeance as if to cleanse himself of any residual influence she might have on his life.

His father had called Ezra a dreamer who allowed thoughts of what could be to interfere with the reality of the present moment. Since his father’s death, Ezra worked to remain in the present, which did not include a pretty woman with a troubled past.

With two hours of chores awaiting him, he hurried to the barn and was soon joined by his brothers, fifteen-year-old Aaron and eight-year-old David. Working rapidly, the three of them milked the cows, then fed and watered the livestock.

Inside the house, his two eldest sisters, Susan, seventeen, and Belinda, three years her junior, prepared breakfast. When the chores were finished and after washing at the pump, Ezra climbed the porch steps and pushed open the kitchen door, breathing in the rich aroma of fresh brewed coffee and homemade biscuits hot from the oven.

Susan turned from the wood-burning stove and greeted him with a smile as he wiped his boots on the rug and hung his hat on the wall peg.

His oldest sister cared for the four younger siblings, for which Ezra was grateful. Susan was pragmatic and task-oriented, not a dreamer like her older brother.

Seven-year-old Mary, blonde and blue-eyed, had gathered eggs from the henhouse earlier and now brought the cool milk and butter inside from the bucket, where they had remained overnight. Aaron and David followed her into the kitchen.

At one time before his parents’ deaths, Ezra had thought of ways to get out of work. Now he focused on the farm and what needed to be done. The responsibility to feed and care for his siblings had fallen hard on his shoulders. If he had been less of a dreamer and more attentive to his parents, they might still be alive.

His five siblings gathered at the table and followed Ezra’s lead as he bowed his head to pray. The others were oblivious to the struggle that plagued him. His own inciting role in his parents’ deaths weighed him down like a giant millstone, as the Bible said, so that he had trouble offering thanks. At least his youngest brothers and sisters had been at school that day and away from the house. Perhaps that fact was the blessing on which he needed to focus.

Aaron had been working in the fields, and Susan had been at a quilting. If only their mother had gone with her.

He raised his head and reached for his fork, needing to redirect his thoughts. “Tell me, David, what you are learning at school?”

The boy looked pensive as he spread apple butter on a biscuit. “We learn our sums.”

“And you mind the teacher?”

“Yah. Why would I not?”

Thankfully, David had not followed in Ezra’s footsteps.

“You are going to town again today?” Susan asked.

He nodded. “I must take the buggy to the blacksmith. Something is wrong with the springs.”

“If you opened Datt’s buggy shop we could check the springs ourselves,” Aaron said. “It has been a year and four months, Ezra.”

“Someday, Aaron, but not now.”

“There are buggies in the shop near ready for sale,” his brother persisted. “You helped Datt. You could finish the projects he began.”

Aaron gave Ezra more credit than he deserved. “Perhaps after Christmas and into the New Year.”

His brother shook his head. “In January, we will be cutting ice for the icehouse. Come February, you will have another excuse.”

“Whether we open the shop this winter or not, I am still going to town.” He turned to Susan. “Is there something you need?”

“Susan would like to go with you.” David smiled impishly and reached for another biscuit.

“Davey, eat your breakfast and mind your mouth,” Susan admonished. “It should be filled with food and not words that make no sense.”

Evidently, Ezra was not the only one aware of Susan’s interest in John Keim, the blacksmith’s son.

“Bishop Hochstetler’s wife has need of a schoolteacher next year since Katie Gingrich and Benny Trotter are courting,” Belinda explained, sounding older than her years. “She says they will surely be married by the time school starts again.”

Knowing his sister’s long held desire to teach, Ezra forced back a smile. “Have you forgotten your sums, Belinda? You are fourteen.”

“I soon will be fifteen and sixteen the following year. I would make a good teacher.”

“I believe you would.”

“The bishop’s wife will search to find someone within the community,” Belinda insisted. “A teaching job would provide income. This would be a gut thing.”

“Yah, bringing money into the house would be gut, yet you are needed here. When your sixteenth year approaches, we can discuss this again.”

Her enthusiasm faltered. “Susan cares for the family.”

Ezra nodded. “Susan is getting older. She must think of her own future.”

“Not long ago, you said she is to think of the family first and her future second.”

Ezra had said exactly that, but since then, his heart had mellowed. Perhaps he was yearning for his own freedom. He pushed aside the thought. Regrettably, he had turned his back on his family once. He would not make that mistake again.

He ruffled David’s hair with one hand and squeezed Mary’s chubby cheek with the other, wishing the twinkle would return to her pretty eyes. She was too young to grieve so long.

Ezra pushed back from the table. “Breakfast was gut. Thank you, Susan and Belinda.”

He smiled at his youngest sister, hoping to bring a smile to her lips. “And danke, Mary, for gathering the eggs. You, too, are a help to your sisters.”

Mary nodded but refused to smile, bringing sadness to his heart. If only he could change the past.

With a heavy sigh, he stepped to the door, grabbed his hat and then glanced back at Susan. “Shall I tell John Keim you have a lovely voice and might accept a ride to the next youth singing?”

Her cheeks pinkened. “Tell him I send my greetings.”

Ezra hurried to the barn and harnessed Bessie to the buggy. He would visit the blacksmith and talk to the blacksmith’s son to determine if John had the makings of a good husband for his sister. Ezra was not ready to lose Susan’s help, but he would not stand in her way to have a family of her own.

He thought of Rosie, trying to raise her son. From what Ezra knew about her father, Rosie was not receiving the support she needed. All the more reason for Ezra to help her in whatever way he could.

The road to the Glick farm angled downhill. Bessie’s gait was sprightly, and both he and the mare enjoyed the brisk morning trot. Ezra would give Rosie a ride to work today. Tonight, if he got home early enough, he would fix her bike and deliver it to her home tomorrow.

He did not want her on the road alone until he asked questions in town about the big man in the white sedan. Ezra had not seen him before, although these days he did not go to town often. Earlier, before his parents’ deaths, he had run with some of the Englischers. He remembered most of the people, but not the older man with the splash of white hair.

He did remember Will MacIntosh, but he would not mention his name to Rosie. She had been swayed by Will’s handsome looks and lavish spending. Ezra had been caught in the deception of the world as well and had yearned for material possessions and the money to buy them.

He did not blame Rosie for leaving the Amish way for a time, but he did blame Will for taking advantage of her innocence.

Rosie woke before dawn and prepared to leave her house earlier than usual. She worried Ezra would forget his offer to give her a ride. If so, she would be forced to walk to town.

“You should stay home,” her mother insisted.

“I am scheduled to work. Plus, it is payday. I must get my check.”

“And what will they say about the cuts and scrapes to your face and hands?”

“I will tell them I fell from my bike just as I told you.”

“Your father could take you in the buggy,” her mother suggested.

Rosie shook her head. Datt would not agree to making the trip to town just so his daughter—a daughter he still had trouble accepting back into the family—could pick up her paycheck at an Englisch nursing home. Much as her father wanted Rosie to contribute to the financial needs of the family, he also struggled with her recent decision to seek employment in town.

“Another Englischer will catch her eye,” her father had grumbled to her mother, and Rosie had overheard.

Forgiveness was the Amish way. Unfortunately, his daughter’s mistakes were too hard to forgive.

She grabbed her black cape from the peg near the door, and after kissing Joseph, she hurried outside. Her father stood in the door of the barn and peered questioningly at her as she walked briskly toward the road.

Brave though she wanted to be, her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. If Ezra did not soon appear, she would have to make the trip on foot and would need to be on guard as she traveled along the roadway. Thankfully, the sound of horses’ hooves alerted her to an approaching buggy. Her heart lurched. Not from fear but from a sense of thankfulness as she spied Bessie rounding the bend. Good to his word, Ezra had come to fetch her this morning.

Rosie stood at the edge of the pavement and waved as his buggy approached.

“Have you been waiting long?” he asked as he pulled the buggy to a stop.

“I just came from my house. Your timing is perfect.”

Ezra reached for her hand and helped her into the seat next to him. The warmth from his body drove away the chill of the morning air.

“Your cape is not thick enough for such a cold day,” he said.

Just as before, he reached for the blanket and wrapped it around her.

“Thank you, Ezra, for the blanket and for the ride, although I hate to take you from your farm.”

“I need to be at the blacksmith’s today and do some other errands in town. So you have not taken me from what I had already planned to do.”

Rosie had half hoped he was making a special trip to see her, but that thought would be prideful and would play into the comments her father sometimes muttered about her haughty heart. Datt did not realize being locked in a root cellar had left her anything but proud.

“You did not see the man again?” Ezra flicked the reins and hurried his mare along the road. The sun was rising, and the morning light cast a surreal glow over the mountain.

“I pray I do not see him again,” Rosie stated as she tucked the blanket around her waist.

“I will inquire about him in town.”

“It is not your worry, Ezra. Please do not add this burden to your daily tasks. I am sure he left the area last night when we saw him drive past.”

Ezra glanced at her for a long moment before he turned his gaze back to the road. “As focused as he seemed to be to do you harm, Rosie, I do not think he will disappear so easily. Perhaps there is something you are not telling me.”

He glanced at her again and asked, “Are there secrets you must hide?”

Her cheeks burned, but she held his gaze. “You need not burden yourself with my mistakes, Ezra. You have your own past with which to struggle.”

His brow furrowed and his lips drew tight. He glanced back at the road, making her believe the rumors she had heard about Ezra were true. For a period of time, he had forsaken the Amish way and had gotten caught up in the allure of the Englisch.

It was something they had in common.

Still she did not want to discuss her own past with a man who had only yesterday acknowledged her for the first time since she had returned home.

“Let’s talk of something other than the past,” she suggested with a defiant shake of her head.

“Two months ago, I applied for the job at the nursing home,” she shared, needing a neutral topic to fill the silence.

Ezra kept his gaze on the road as she chatted. He did not speak for far too long, as if lost in his own thoughts. Thankfully, his interest seemed to pique when she started to discuss Mr. Calhoun, the delightful older gentleman with whom she had formed a special bond at the nursing home.

“Last night his rheumatoid arthritis was causing him undue pain,” Rosie said. “He asked for medication but none was given. Finally, I went to Nan Smith, the new night nurse. She promised to straighten out the confusion. Mr. Calhoun does not have a family, but he is such a kind man and appreciates anything I do for him.”

“I am sure you brighten his day with your pretty smile.”

Her pulse quickened, and she wondered if she had heard Ezra correctly. No one had ever said she had a pretty smile. She did not need compliments or flattery, yet hearing Ezra’s comment and seeing the sincerity in his gaze brought a smile to her lips.

“You are generous with your words, especially for an Amish man.”

“Amish men speak the truth, Rosie.”

Her heart fluttered with the speed of a hummingbird drawing nectar from a blossom. In an effort to calm the rapid rhythm, she focused on Mr. Calhoun and their special relationship.

“Hopefully, the night nurse cleared up the pain-medicine problem so he got the rest he needed,” she said, as they entered town.

The Christmas decorations added a festive charm to the morning, and in spite of everything that had happened, Rosie’s spirits lifted. Ezra turned onto a side street and pulled Bessie to a stop in front of the nursing home.

The double doors were adorned with two large wreaths tied with shiny red bows. Potted pines, decorated with sparkling white lights and red bows, sat on each side of the double doors.

He pointed to the parking lot.

Rosie pulled her eyes from the twinkling lights and followed his gaze. Her euphoria vanished, replaced with dread as she spied a white sedan identical to the one that had tried to run her off the road yesterday.

“Stay with me,” Ezra insisted. “Do not go to work today.”

“Surely the car belongs to someone else. I will be all right, Ezra. You need not worry.”

“The blacksmith’s shop is on Sycamore Street off the square. If there is a problem, you can find me there.”

She hurried inside and passed the Christmas tree decorated with gold and red bulbs. Hurrying along the hallway to the left, she rounded an arrangement of poinsettias that surrounded a Norfolk Island pine and stopped short. A man stood in the doorway of the manager’s office. Thankfully, his back was to her, but the streak of white hair confirmed he was the same man who had attacked her last night.

The manager’s voice filtered into the hallway. “Come on in, Larry, and close the door.”

At least now, she knew his first name.

Had he found out where she worked and followed her here? Or was his presence a coincidence that had nothing to do with Rosie or her job? She would not wait to find out.

Turning down a side hallway, she hurried to the kitchen, located on the far wing, where she would hide out this morning, preparing the patients’ trays. By the time breakfast was served, the man would be gone.

At least that was her hope.

Ezra tied Bessie to the hitching rail and entered the nursing home. Whether Rosie wanted his help or not, he needed to ensure she was all right.

He walked past the Christmas tree and turned down a nearby corridor to the right, where he was greeted with a bevy of activity as aides dressed in pastel-colored scrubs hurried from room to room, waking patients and getting them ready for the new day. He headed down one hall after another, but he could not find Rosie.

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, he glanced into a patient’s room.

Someone came up behind him. “May I help you?”

Ezra turned to stare into the face of a middle-aged man with dark eyes and a receding hairline. He was big and bulky and appeared in good physical shape.

“Do you have a reason to be in Shady Manor?” the man demanded.

Ezra glanced at the name tag hanging from a lanyard around the man’s neck. Bruce O’Donnell, Shady Manor Manager.

At the end of the hallway, he spied another man. The guy with the patch of white hair stood staring at both of them.

Ezra needed a reason to be on the nursing-home premises, without making mention of Rosie. Her favorite patient came to mind.

“I know it is early,” Ezra said. “But I came into town this morning and wanted to see how Mr. Calhoun is doing.”

“Are you kin?”

Ezra shook his head. “No, but he is a nice man who enjoys company. Could you direct me to his room?”

“Visiting hours begin at nine, after the patients have eaten breakfast.” The manager pointed him toward the nearest exit.

Ezra wanted to find Rosie, but not when the man with the streak of white hair was watching his every move. He headed outside and pulled his buggy around the side of the building, where it would be less noticeable. Ezra would stand guard at the nursing home for as long as Rosie’s assailant remained inside.

In less than thirty minutes, the big man left the care facility through a side door. He walked quickly across the parking lot, climbed into his car and drove off.

Ezra let out a lungful of pent-up air. Minutes later, Rosie ran outside. Her face was pale. Tears streamed from her blue eyes.

He grabbed her hand. “Did someone hurt you?”

“Oh, Ezra!”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hurried her to the protection of the buggy. “Tell me what happened?”

“Mr. O’Donnell called me to his office. He is the manager of the nursing home. He—he claimed—”

Ezra rubbed her arms and waited as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Someone told him I was snooping around in patient records last night.”

“I do not understand.”

“It probably had to do with Mr. Calhoun. I had talked to the night nurse. She planned to check his chart, but I never looked at any of his records.”

“Did you tell Mr. O’Donnell?”

“He would not listen. He said medication had been stolen, and...”

She hung her head. “He accused me of being a thief.”

“This does not make sense. Are you sure you heard him correctly?”

Rosie nodded. “He fired me, Ezra. He refused to give me my back pay and mentioned calling the police.” Her eyes widened. “I am frightened.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “Do not be afraid, Rosie. You are safe now.”

Only she was not safe, and the danger seemed to be getting closer.

She laid her head on his shoulder as the tears fell.

“Shh,” Ezra soothed. Rosie was soft and warm and smelled like lavender. Everything within Ezra wanted to take away her pain and protect her from anyone attempting to do her harm. He pulled her even closer, wishing he could wipe away her tears.

“I wanted to say goodbye to Mr. Calhoun,” she whispered. “But when I went into his room—”

“What happened?”

“Mr. Calhoun—” She glanced up. Sorrow filled her eyes. “Oh, Ezra. Mr. Calhoun is dead.”

FOUR

Rosie’s head swirled with confusion. Seeing Mr. Calhoun’s body with a sheet draped over it had startled her. Foolishly, she had thought he was asleep. When she pulled aside the cloth, she realized her mistake.

His frozen gaze and white pallor had broken her heart. Unwilling to believe what she saw, Rosie had run to the nurses’ station only to be told what she knew to be true.

Tears came again. She leaned into Ezra’s embrace, feeling the strength of him. He rubbed her hand over her shoulder and clutched her even closer.

“Last night, he was fine,” she gasped between sobs. “He was in pain, but his vitals were good. I promised him help. Nan assured me she would track down the missing medication.”

“The nurse you spoke to, do you trust her?” Ezra asked.

“Why would I not? She is new to the home and eager to make changes for the better.” Rosie sniffed and swiped her hand over her cheeks, in an attempt to wipe away her tears. “This is all so frightening. First the man chases after me, and now a patient—a gut man—dies, and I am called a thief.”

“Perhaps we need to talk to the nurse. She might provide information about Mr. Calhoun’s physical condition, including any complications that may have occurred.”

As much as Rosie wanted to remain in Ezra’s arms, he was right. Nan could provide information about Mr. Calhoun’s death.

“Nan left the nursing home shortly before I arrived this morning. She may have been with Mr. Calhoun when he died. That would bring me comfort if he had not suffered and slipped away peacefully.”

“If that is indeed so.”

Rosie stared at Ezra’s questioning gaze. “You do not believe Gott called Mr. Calhoun home?”

“I am wondering if Gott had help.”

Rosie widened her eyes. “You think foul play was involved?”

“I do not know, but one thing is certain, you need to talk to Nan. Do you know where she lives?”

“In a new area of homes on the far side of the mountain. She invited me to visit and gave me directions.”

“I will take you there.” Ezra glanced at the door to the nursing home. “We must hurry in case the manager has called the police, as he threatened to do.”

Rosie’s heart sank. If Mr. O’Donnell involved the police, she might be hauled in for questioning. Would they believe her or Mr. O’Donnell, a well-thought-of businessman within the community?

Surely Nan would provide information about Mr. Calhoun’s death. Perhaps she would also shed light on why Rosie had been fired.

Ezra helped Rosie into the buggy and then climbed in next to her. He did not want to frighten her any more than she already was, but Rosie’s world was spinning out of control. If Mr. O’Donnell filed criminal charges, she would have a hard time proving her innocence, especially if medication had, indeed, gone missing.

An innocent Amish woman was the perfect scapegoat. Rosie did not have the wherewithal to defend herself against slander. Plus, she had been involved with a man known to skirt the law when it served his advantage. The Englisch would never realize how a woman who longed for love could be blind to the truth about the man to whom she had given her heart.

To make matters worse, she had been kidnapped and held captive. A weaker woman never would have survived, but Rosie had endured the months of her pregnancy and had delivered her child in a root cellar all by herself. Ezra called that admirable and heroic, yet he doubted the local authorities would see her in a positive light.

Ezra encouraged his mare forward. Instead of taking the main road out of the nursing home, he circled to the rear of the parking lot and turned onto a backstreet.

“Does this lead to the mountain homes?” Rosie asked.

“Yah, it is a bit longer in distance, but it keeps us out of the downtown area. If the man with the streak of white hair is on the road, I do not want him to see you.”

She lowered hear head and struggled to compose herself. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

“After we talk to the nurse, I will take you home. We Amish do not talk about stress, but it is true that anxiety builds and rips us apart. You need time to heal.”

“I need to find out what happed to Mr. Calhoun,” she insisted.

“You also need to find out why the man with the patch of white hair is out to do you harm.”

“His name is Larry. I overheard the nursing-home manager talking to him.” Rosie wiped her hand over her cheeks. “I have so many questions. Perhaps learning about Mr. Calhoun’s death will provide a few answers.”

The community of newly constructed homes appeared on the distant hillside. “I remember when the mountains were covered with trees,” Ezra mused, thinking of the changes that came with the increase in population. “The town grows too fast.”

“Nan worked in one of the big medical centers in Atlanta. She wanted to enjoy a more rural way of life and moved here after she got the job at the nursing home.”

Ezra glanced around the side of the buggy and studied the road.

“Do you see something?” Rosie asked.

“No one in a white car, if that is your concern. I saw Larry in the nursing home earlier. I went inside to ensure you were all right, but the manager told me to leave. I mentioned wanting to visit Mr. Calhoun. Perhaps that is the reason the manager told me to leave. He knew Mr. Calhoun was dead.”

Rosie shivered.

“You are cold?” Ezra asked.

“Not cold. Just worried, especially since Mr. O’Donnell said he might call the police. What would they do to me, Ezra?”

“You have done nothing wrong.” He glanced at her, hoping to see more clearly into her heart.

Ezra considered himself a good judge of character, yet he had been wrong about people in the past. He did not want to make a mistake when it came to Rosie.

“You have done nothing wrong,” he said again. “This is right?”

She bristled. “Of course I have done nothing wrong.”

Could he believe her? Ezra hoped so.

Hearing the suspicion in Ezra’s voice, Rosie steeled her shoulders and pursed her lips, not willing to be undermined by a man who seemed supportive one minute and suspicious the next. She had revealed too much.

Earlier, she had appreciated his concern and the way he had offered comfort with his strong arms and his gentle, soothing voice. Since he had found her at the foot of the ravine, Ezra had been a rock in the midst of her chaos. Now she felt the exact opposite about him.

Ever since she had met William, her life had been anything but peaceful. The Amish way that she had loved during her youth had become confining and restrictive in her teen years. Was it William, with his free spirit, who had swayed her away from that which she knew?

She had been young and foolish. Everything that had happened—her capture and confinement—had changed her outlook. Now she had Joseph, her precious child, who gave meaning to her life. She had gained maturity through all the strife. Not the easiest way to grow up, but Gott knew what she needed.

Although sitting next to Ezra in his buggy after the death of a delightful gentleman had her questioning everything. She clasped her hands and kept her gaze on the mountain homes, unwilling to allow her emotions free rein.

“Nan told me her street is the second turn to the left.”

Ezra encouraged his mare onto the street. The steady pace of the horse’s hooves sounded as they headed up the hill. The neighborhood sat quiet in the crisp morning air.

The stillness troubled Rosie.

“There is no activity,” she said at last.

“The Englisch are at work, even the women,” Ezra explained. “Children are at day care or in school.”

“I hope Nan is home.” Rosie noted the numbers on the mailboxes and pointed to a house on the left. “There. That is the house number she gave me.”

Ezra turned his mare onto the driveway and got out of the buggy. He tied the reins to a tree and then helped Rosie climb down. All the while, he glanced around the area as if searching for anything suspect.

“You are worried?” Rosie asked.

“Not worried but cautious. As you mentioned, it is quiet here.”

They hurried to the door. Rosie knocked then glanced down the street, following Ezra’s lead. His concern added to Rosie’s unrest. She rang the bell again.

Just before she was ready to return to the buggy, the door opened. A very sleepy Nan stood in the threshold, rubbing her eyes, her red hair disheveled. “Is everything all right, Rosie?”

“I am sorry to bother you. You were asleep?”

“Not yet. I was getting ready to go to bed.” She glanced at Ezra and held out her hand. “I’m Nan Smith.”

“Forgive me for not introducing you,” Rosie said as the two people shook hands. “This is Ezra Stoltz. He agreed to drive me here. I came to find out about Mr. Calhoun.”

“Come in,” Nan said, opening the door wide.

Rosie and Ezra entered the foyer.

“I talked to one of the other nurses last night about Mr. Calhoun’s missing meds,” Nan explained. “We couldn’t find his OxyContin so I gave him a couple ibuprofen. I also called the pharmacy and left a message about the missing meds.”

“Did the other nurse know what happened?” Rosie asked.

“She didn’t seem concerned. I did a little investigating on my own and found Mr. Calhoun wasn’t the only patient with missing medication.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that Shady Manor has a problem. Many, if not most, of the patients had orders for strong opioid pain medication—hydrocodone or OxyContin—but when I searched the medication cart the meds were missing.”

“Had they already been given out?”

“Not that I could tell. I didn’t even know the opioids had been prescribed for many of the patients—patients who don’t have significant pain. I left a memo for Mr. O’Donnell.”

Nan’s forthright sharing about what had transpired last night convinced Rosie the nurse had left work unaware of Mr. Calhoun’s passing.

“Would either of you like coffee?” she asked as she ushered them into the living area. “I’ll fix a fresh pot.”

“Do not trouble yourself with coffee,” Rosie insisted.

“It’s no trouble.” Nan pointed to the couch. An overstuffed chair sat nearby. “Sit here. The coffee will not take long to brew.”

Rosie held up her hand in protest. “We can talk without coffee. There is something I must tell you.”

Nan stepped closer. “Is something wrong?”

“Mr. Calhoun died this morning.”

“Oh, no!” The nurse raised her hand to her throat. “I’m so sorry to hear that. He was in pain last night, but his symptoms weren’t life-threatening.”

“I went in his room to say goodbye—”

“Goodbye?” Nan narrowed her gaze. “Now I’m really confused. Are you leaving Shady Manor?”

“Mr. O’Donnell terminated my employment this morning. He said I had gotten involved in a situation beyond my job description. He also said I had tampered with patient medication and he threatened to notify the police.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were. He told me to leave immediately. I could not leave without saying goodbye to Mr. Calhoun. When I entered his room, I knew something was wrong. The nurse said he had suffered a heart attack.”

“Which may have occurred, although I don’t recall any record of a heart condition.” Nan shook her head. “He was such a nice man.”

Rosie agreed. “He said I brightened his days, but the opposite was true. He was considerate of my situation and always encouraged me to work hard so I could someday become independent and take care of Joseph on my own. His words were always filled with kindness and concern. You know I would do nothing to cause him harm.”

Nan rubbed Rosie’s shoulder. “You were a friend he looked forward to seeing.”

“But I do not understand what happened.”

“I’m working later today, Rosie. I’ll check his chart and see what it says. The coroner’s report won’t be back for days, but I’ll talk to the staff and see if they know anything about his death.”

“Will you be able to read the coroner’s report?”

“Perhaps.” She shrugged. “And I want to track down the reason his medication was missing as well as the pain meds for the other patients.”

“Can you talk to the pharmacist and Mr. Calhoun’s doctor?”

Nan nodded. “After I get some sleep. How will I let you know what I find out?”

Rosie glanced at Ezra.

“I will bring Rosie to your house in a day or two,” he quickly suggested.

A warmth settled over Rosie. Once again, Ezra had come to her aid. “It will not be a problem?” she asked him.

He smiled. “Perhaps then we will be able to ease your concerns about Mr. Calhoun. It will not be a problem.”

Rosie turned back to Nan. “We will see you either tomorrow or the day following to find out what you have learned.”

She hesitated a moment as a thought surfaced. “Perhaps I am being foolish, yet I must say this anyway. If you would be so kind, do not mention my name to Mr. O’Donnell. He claimed I interfered with nursing duties last night. Perhaps he feels I was too demanding in my desire to help Mr. Calhoun. Keeping my name out of the situation might be a good idea.”

Nan nodded. “You’re probably being overly cautious, but I won’t divulge your interest in Mr. Calhoun’s death. Especially since Mr. O’Donnell accused you of wrongdoing.” She patted Rosie’s arm. “I do not want to get you in more trouble.”

“Thank you, Nan.”

The nurse glanced at the wall clock. “The pharmacy will open soon. I’ll talk to the pharmacist before I get some sleep. I’m sure she can solve the problem about the missing meds. She may have information about Mr. Calhoun’s other medical problems, too. Perhaps she’ll let me know if he was prescribed any medication for his heart. I’ll also mention my concern about the number of pain prescriptions that seem unnecessary.”

Rosie was relieved, knowing Nan would get to the bottom of what was happening at Shady Manor. “By any chance, Nan, have you seen a middle-aged man with a streak of white hair at the home? His first name is Larry.”

“That sounds like Larry Wagner. He was in Mr. O’Donnell’s office the night before last. O’Donnell introduced us. Is he causing a problem?”

Rosie shrugged. “He thinks I have something that belongs to him, but he is mistaken.”

“He seems harmless, Rosie. I wouldn’t be too concerned.”

But Rosie was concerned, although she would not burden Nan with details about who Larry Wagner really was. A friend of Mr. O’Donnell’s who was out to do Rosie harm. She needed to be careful and cautious where Mr. Wagner was concerned.

Rosie squeezed the nurse’s hand. “I appreciate your help.”

“Like you, Rosie, I’ll feel better once the mystery is solved.”

After leaving the nurse’s home, Rosie followed Ezra to the buggy. She stopped for a moment to peer down the mountain. Shady Manor was visible in the distance. What was happening there that had caused a sweet old man to die?

Nan had mentioned a mystery, which was exactly what Mr. Calhoun’s death might prove to be. How did he die and why had his medication gone missing?

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