Peace Read Free

secluded spot.
    Without a word of explanation, she guided him up the stairs, leading him one step at a time. Their progress was halting and painful. When they were only halfway, he was leaning so heavily on her, she wasn’t sure that she could continue without a rest.
    But finally they made it to his room. It was at the end of the hall, next to the bathroom. The room was smaller than most, and rather sparsely furnished, too. But it was warmer than some of the others and also held an oversized easy chair, which was perfect for a man of his size.
    When she helped him lie down on top of a thick quilt patched in a crazy quilt design, he gripped her arm. “Beth?”
    â€œJah?”
    â€œDon’t forget about the blood.”
    â€œBlood? I don’t understand.”
    His face paled as he struggled to speak. “I . . . I parked in the back, near the woods. But you’ve got to check to make sure I didn’t bleed on the ground. Do you understand?”
    Then he closed his eyes and fulfilled his earlier promise.
    He’d passed out.
    And left her with a terrible load of problems as well as a miserable trail of blood to remove. Why did the worst things always happen when Frannie was out of town?

Chapter 2
    Some folks wonder why I watch both English and Amish kinner. But to my way of thinking, all God’s children are basically the same. Especially at Christmastime. Ain’t so?
    B ETH B YLER
    Thinking he was alone in the store, Jacob Schrock crumbled his father’s latest letter from prison and tossed it at the trash can. The wad of paper sailed through the air, skimmed the rim of the metal can, then promptly floated to the floor.
    It seemed he couldn’t even get his father’s letters out of his life easily.
    He was about to stride over and pick up the offending piece of paper when his wife, Deborah, bent down and snatched it up.
    She glanced at the crumpled slip of notebook paper in her hand, then slowly raised her gaze to his. “What is this, Jacob?”
    â€œYou know exactly what it is—it’s another letter from my daed .”
    â€œDid you read this one? Or were you too busy again?” Her tone held a healthy amount of sarcasm in it.
    Jacob didn’t blame his wife for being so sarcastic. Throwing out his father’s carefully penned letters was a rather harsh thing to do. But he was justified, he was certain of that. He’d promised himself not to dwell on the past, and to him that meant moving forward after his father’s imprisonment, not looking backward.
    And even though they were married, this was his father they were talking about, not hers. After all, some things simply couldn’t be shared. This was one of those things. “I did read the letter.” This time, he had.
    She raised an eyebrow. “Every word?”
    â€œAlmost.” He’d read until his father started asking him for forgiveness. But instead of admitting that, he turned away and pretended to be very interested in cleaning out the immaculate shelves underneath the front counter of the Schrock Variety Store. Which, of course, was his family’s namesake. Now, though, he was the one running it.
    Still holding the crumpled paper, Deborah softened her voice as she walked to his side. “Jacob, maybe we should talk about this.”
    â€œTalking won’t help. Besides, there ain’t anything to talk about.”
    â€œYour mother says that every time she visits your father in prison he always looks a little worse.”
    â€œPrison is a harsh place. I can’t imagine that he’s having an easy time of it.”
    â€œI don’t think it’s only the prison that is hard for him to bear. I think he’s having a hard time dealing with your anger.” When he flinched, she softened her tone. “Jacob, I think you need to think about your feelings. Pray on it. You need to find a way to forgive him. . . .”
    Anger flashed through