Amish Christmas Secrets. Debby Giusti

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