Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One by Shelley Shepard Gray Page B

paused in front of the first closed door on the left. “Abby, you are my granddaughter and are welcome to stay here for as long as you like. I am also happy to bake with you, too. But I would rather have your honesty. Please tell me what’s on your mind. And I want to hear everything, too. Not just the parts you think are good for my ohr, ” she said, pointing to her ear.
    Feeling caught, Abby hedged. “It’s complicated.”
    “That’s all right. I’ve lived long enough to understand complicated stories.”
    Abby stared at her sharply. Was Grandma Francis teasing her?
    Her grandmother didn’t budge from her post in front of the paneled oak door. It seemed as if she wasn’t going to move until Abby explained everything.
    But she had gone to her grandparents’ house to escape from everything, not to make sense of her feelings. “I’m not sure you’d understand.”
    “Believe it or not, I’ve had thorny things happen to me,” she said gently. “I wasn’t always old, you know.”
    “You’re not old.”
    “I’m far older than you! Now are you ready to talk?”
    “I don’t want to talk about finding Perry.” She was so tired of talking about that day. So tired of revisiting the memories.
    “If you’re not upset about that, suppose you tell me what has gotten you so spun in circles.”
    Across from the landing was a window looking out onto the driveway. Directly below, she could see her brother leaning up against his truck, arms folded across his chest like he always did, laughing. He looked tanned and healthy, happy and handsome—he looked confident and sure of himself.
    And completely the opposite of Abby. As she watched her brother talk, Abby felt tears prick her eyes. They were only three years apart in age, but had always been so far in attitude and demeanor. “I’m not anything like Walker,” she blurted.
    “I would hope not. One Walker is enough for this family.”
    Instead of smiling at the joke, she felt even worse. “No, Mommi. He was popular at school. Really popular.” She sputtered, suddenly wondering if such things even mattered if you were Amish. “Do you know what that means?”
    “Popular? Oh, yes. I’ve heard that term a time or two over the years.”
    Abby flushed as she realized she was sounding condescending. “Did you ever care about things like popularity?”
    “Did I ever?” she murmured with a faint smile. “Me? Not so much. For others though, I think it mattered more.” She opened the door to the bedroom and waved Abby forward. “This is your room. Come sit down on the bed with me and we’ll talk more, jah ?”
    Abby sat down on the beautiful white quilt. It was covered with tiny white stitches in the shape of flowers.
    Taking care to keep her feet off the quilt, she perched on the edge. “Why didn’t it matter to you?”
    “I think because I was happy with myself. I was lucky, I think, Abby. I was one of those few people born knowing what I wanted in life. I grew up next to your grandfather, so I knew I wanted to always be with him one day. And I always wanted to be like my mother, fussing with a houseful of kinner .”
    “I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up. Sometimes I don’t even know who I want to be.”
    “Well, of course you don’t! You’re too young to know such things.”
    “I’m eighteen.”
    “Eighteen ain’t all that old, Abby. I promise that, though you love to analyze things, there is no hurry. Give yourself some time to simply enjoy each day.”
    “That’s not easy to do.”
    “It’s not easy because you’ve had a difficult time of it lately. But, I promise, there’s a reason for everything. I suspect that the Lord probably wants you to rest for a spell.”
    “If that’s what He wants, I’m not so sure I want to follow the Lord’s advice.” She felt so haunted by the memory of discovering a dead body and so alienated by everyone knowing, all she wanted was a chance to start over. The idea of having to wait longer