Peace (17 page)

Chapter 17

Folks have told me that one day Deborah and I will start our own traditions. Perhaps we already have.

J
ACOB
S
CHROCK

“Jacob, I'm going to tell you a few things,” Mose said when they got within sight of the prison. “I know you didn't ask for advice, but I wouldn't feel right if I didn't offer you some.”

The nervous flutter in his stomach told him that he needed all the help he could get to survive the next few hours. “I'd appreciate anything you can tell me.”

Mose took a deep breath. “This is going to be a scary situation. Life inside the prison walls? It's difficult. It's going to be difficult for you to experience, and it's going to be difficult for you to see your father experience it, too.” He glanced sideways at Jacob. “You have to be prepared to hold yourself in check.”

“All right.”

“First thing is we're going to park, and check in. Then we're going to have to take a bus to the actual prison.”

“Why?”

“Security, Jacob. Both for them and for you. Once we get to the main facility, we're going to have to walk through scanners, like in the airports. Or at some monuments or attractions.”

“I've been through those before,” Deborah piped in.

Mose relaxed a bit. “
Gut
. Now, you can't bring anything inside, other than a few dollars for the vending machines. Do you have any dollar bills?”

Jacob shook his head.
“Nee.”

“That's fine. I picked up a couple yesterday.” His voice turned more businesslike. “After you get through all the security, they're going to take you to a big room. Inside are a bunch of small tables and chairs. Listen to the guards. Sometimes they tell you where to sit. Sometimes they let you choose.”

“All right.”

“Then, and only then, will they walk your father out to join you.”

“So there won't be glass in between us?”

“I don't think so. Once, years ago, I had to do some hours here on Christmas Day. Things could have changed but I don't think so. Anyway, then you'll get to spend about two hours with your father.”

The mention of hours caught Jacob off guard. “They don't restrict visits to minutes?”

Mose gave him a funny look. “For dangerous criminals they do. But not at this facility.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Jacob, don't you want to spend some time with your father?”

“I do. I mean, I think I do. But I wasn't planning on being around him for so long. I had thought maybe a half an hour at the most. If we're going to be sitting together for more than that, I have no idea what we're going to do.”

“They have games. Scrabble, Yahtzee. But something tells me you three might have a lot to talk about. While you're together, you can use the dollar bills and get a soda or a snack.”

“And when it's time to leave?”

“About ten minutes before your time is up, the guards will announce it.” Mose frowned. “It's going to be hard, Jacob. I can promise you that. You're going to be sad, and it's going to be strange to see your father go away with the guards when your visit is over.”

“I'm nervous,” Jacob admitted. “I think I've been pushing any thoughts of what he's been going through out of my mind. I didn't want to think about his daily life in a prison cell.”

“That's understandable. You've been hurting, Jacob.”

“But I think it was easier for me to pretend that I was the only person living with regrets.”

“We all live with regrets. Some are heavier than others. But the fact of the matter is, it's a difficult thing, moving on after something like your families have been through. It's difficult to move on and find a way to continue. There's no right way or wrong way to do it, either.”

They pulled into the parking lot and Mose parked the car. As he turned off the ignition, he turned to look at Jacob. “Are you ready?”

“Yes. I mean, I have to be.”

“Sheriff, are you going to go in with us?”

“Nope. The visits are for family members. Besides, you don't need me, you'll be just fine. There's a coffee shop not too far from here. I'm going to sit down, read the paper, and have some breakfast.” Quietly, he handed them his business card. “That's my cell phone right there. When you're done visiting with your
daed
, give me a call.”

Jacob stared at the card, thinking of Mose sitting alone in a coffee shop on Christmas morning. “Mose, though I'm very grateful, I don't know how I can ever make this up to you.”

“There's nothing to make up. Taking you to see your father on Christmas Day?” He shook his head. “I do believe I'd call that time well spent.”

“I think we should go now,” she said, looking ready for anything. “The shuttle bus is on its way here.”

As they scooted out, Jacob gave in and took one last look at Mose. “Wish me luck.”

“I'll do better than that. I'll pray for your strength. And for the lot of you.” He smiled slightly. “You can do this, Jacob. It will be hard. Sure it will be. But you've been through much harder things in your life. Don't forget that.”

Mose's words served as a steadying balm. He was right. Discovering Perry was dead and that he hadn't simply run off, like most people assumed, had been a shock. Being called in for questioning, fearing that he was going to be sent to prison had been hard, too. So had fearing that he'd lost Deborah forever.

Though this was mighty difficult, the Lord had already shown him that he was stronger than he realized. Feeling more secure with himself, Jacob exhaled, closed the truck's door, then waited by his wife's side.

It was time to move forward instead of only regretting the past.

After that kiss, Beth had scurried to the privacy of her bedroom. She had wanted to hug tight the bittersweet memory of Chris's embrace in private.

All her life, she'd been a caregiver. She'd taken care of her friends and had looked after children in their area. In school, she'd gravitated toward being the teacher's helper. Often she would miss recess because she'd be sitting with someone in the school who needed special help or attention.

Soon after she'd left school, her mother had been diagnosed with MS. And then her father had passed away suddenly and she'd become her mother's main provider.

She'd been happy to care for her mother. She gave thanks for her mother's even temperament and words of wisdom. Those things made taking care of her that much easier. When her mother's health improved enough for her to stay home by herself for extended periods of time, Beth had used her natural talents to care for other people's children.

She'd always been a strong person. The one who took care of things.

Until this morning, when she'd been in Chris's arms. All it had been was a hug and a kiss. Okay, a long, tender hug and a few kisses.

But that was all. And in those precious moments, she'd felt as if she'd been at his mercy. She'd felt protected and comforted.

Almost loved.

She wasn't very worldly, but even she knew that chances were slim to none that another man would ever affect her in such a strong way. She didn't know if Chris felt the same.

After those few brief moments of pleasure, he'd pulled apart from her with a stricken expression. “I'm sorry, Beth,” he'd said, then had quickly turned away and gone to his room.

She hadn't protested. She knew him well enough by now to know that there was nothing she could say to change his way of thinking about what they'd done. He was going to place all the blame on himself . . . even if she hadn't thought they'd done anything wrong.

Determined not to ruin the whole day, she pushed all her worries to one side and strode back to the kitchen. She started humming to herself. A silly Christmas song about wanting a hippopotamus for Christmas that one of her English
kinner
loved to sing.

She'd just made a fresh pot of coffee and was thinking about making fudge when she felt his presence. Turning around, she saw him standing in the doorway, gazing at her with a bemused expression.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello, Chris.” She made certain she kept a slow and easy smile on her face.

He cleared his throat. “It looks like you're thinking about doing some cooking.”

“Fudge. I've, ah, actually made it before. It's nothing fancy, but it's good and I do know how to make it,” she teased. “That counts for something.”

His lips curved before he turned solemn again. “Listen, Beth, I think we should talk about what happened.”

“I'm only going to have regrets if you can honestly tell me that I mean nothing to you.”

He looked as if he'd been taken completely off guard. “What?”

“Chris, how do you feel about me? Do I mean something to you? Anything at all?”

His gaze darted off to the side as if he were afraid to look directly at her. “You know what I'm going to say, Beth.”

“I truly do not,” she replied. Inside, she was almost cheering. She knew he felt something special for her. She knew it. And she knew that he was doing all he could to not let his guard down.

But just as certainly, she knew he needed to let it down. After all, she was already taking that chance.

“You're going to have to tell me the words, I'm afraid,” she prodded. “Chris, how do you feel about me?”

Finally, he stared directly at her.

His blue eyes looked pained as he visibly struggled to talk to her.

As he fought for control, the silence stretched. And the tension that filled the kitchen nearly made her regret she'd said anything at all.

Yet again, it seemed she was acting the fool. In her naïveté, she was placing him in a terrible position.

And very likely preparing herself to be hurt. Badly.

Chapter 18

My mother's apple pie was Perry's favorite Christmas treat. That's why she doesn't make it anymore.

D
EBORAH
S
CHROCK

With another
click
and a
snap
, a new line of men entered the visitors' room. From his seat next to Deborah near one of the windows facing a fenced-in park, Jacob found himself anxiously scanning the faces, looking for his father. They'd been waiting several minutes already.

Deborah tensed next to him. “Jacob,” she whispered. “He's here.”

Whether it was excitement, nerves, or habit built from years of respect, Jacob jumped to his feet. He glanced at the line of men.

And then saw his father.

Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, his father looked strange and unfamiliar. For some reason, Jacob had never really stopped to think about his father not being dressed Plain. Jacob knew if he had been asked to wear an outfit like his father was wearing, he would feel half unclothed.

Forcing himself to look away from the glaring outfit, Jacob skimmed over his father's face.

To Jacob's dismay, his father didn't look too good. His skin seemed a bit paler, looser too. Obviously, he had lost some weight. There were more lines around his eyes. His beard was grayer and seemed shorter, as well.

But when he met Jacob's gaze that same spark, that look of pride mixed with remorse and something altogether hesitant came over his face.

That look gave Jacob hope. Perhaps everything wasn't going to be as terrible as he'd thought. A lump formed in his throat. Suddenly, all of the hopes and regrets he'd felt over the last few months faded away, leaving only the two of them standing there.

His father stood frozen. His eyes continued to search, to scan. It felt as if he were drinking in the sight of him for safekeeping.

Jacob knew he needed to say something—anything—but all he could utter was the one word that filled his head. The only word that seemed to matter. “Daed.”

“Son,” he finally whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

The guard standing nearby looked as if he was about to lose patience with his frozen father, but after a second's consideration, he held his tongue and merely remained by his father's side. Almost as if he was trying to give his father support.

With heavy steps, Jacob walked toward his father. He stared at him in wonder. Then, realizing that his father was not going to make the first move, reached out and hugged his
daed
.

“Jacob,” his father said. “I can hardly believe you're here. It's like a dream has just come to life.”

Both his words and his incredulous tone shamed Jacob. He'd been so awful to keep his distance.

Jacob patted his father's back and hugged him a little harder, fending off tears. His father's body felt thinner, weaker.

Older.

Why had he waited so long to visit him?

Why had he been so focused on his own pain that he'd neglected to fully consider how his father was faring in such a place as this?