Amish Christmas Secrets. Debby Giusti

      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