A Time to Heal(8)

Others came to see how Plain people lived a simpler life, one less materialistic that they envied or emulated in these times when people were cutting back or trying to save money.Or learn about connecting with family again, to what and who was important to them. Connecting to God, to spirituality too.

The latter didn't seem like Chris's purpose. Connecting to God that is. Just in the brief time she'd been around him, she could sense some tension . . . he seemed troubled. He'd looked disappointed when Jenny had said she couldn't guide him around the area and started to say something, then stopped.When someone wanted to visit, to spend time with a person, wouldn't you think they'd send word ahead?

What, she wondered, was his real purpose? Jenny was an attractive woman, a friendly one. Had he come because he'd been interested in her and didn't know she was married now and shared a family with Matthew? She'd seen his curious glance at her left hand, then Matthew's.

Hannah glanced at Matthew. He'd welcomed Chris into his home and invited him to eat at his table, yet she hadn't seen her brother fully relax as he normally did at the end of the day.It might not be obvious to someone else, someone who didn't know him, but Matthew still regarded this other man with some caution.

Jenny sensed it. Hannah could tell because she saw Jenny glance at her husband and pat his hand resting on top of the table more than once. It didn't seem like her touch was affectionate so much as reassuring.

Now that he'd finished eating, Joshua turned on the bench and regarded Chris. "What country were you in?"

Jenny nodded when Chris glanced her way. "Afghanistan."

"He was there as a soldier, Joshua, not as a journalist," Jenny told him quietly.

"You got hurt. That's why you were in the hospital where Jenny went, ya?" Mary asked him.

"I was at a different hospital, but she came to it once for tests, and I met her there."

Annie, always the sensitive kind, patted Chris's hand. "Are you better now?"

Chris nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"Did you kill anyone?" Joshua asked, studying him with an intensity that Chris found a little unnerving.





3





Chris felt the eyes of everyone sitting at the table bore into him.

He waited, searching for the right words, desperately hoping one of the parents would step in to say that children— especially such innocent, protected children—shouldn't hear the truth.

Back when he'd made the decision to follow his father and his grandfather before him into the military, he'd been so convinced that what he was doing was the right thing for him— that he was doing it for all the right reasons. Now he wasn't so sure.

He glanced at Jenny and saw that she stared at him but gave no indication of what answer she felt he should give her son. Neither did Hannah. But Matthew . . . Chris saw that his host wore a troubled expression. Maybe after the man had distrusted him so much earlier, out in the barn, he wanted Chris to look bad because he'd been a soldier and that was against the beliefs of the Plain people.

No, he told himself just as quickly. He didn't know Matthew, so it wasn't fair to believe that the man judged him.

Matthew gave Chris a slight nod, then turned to Joshua."That's enough, sohn. It's not polite to ask guests a lot of personal questions."

Joshua hung his head. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Kids are curious. I was always like that as a kid."

Jenny smiled at Chris.

"Mamm? May I clear the table?"

When Jenny nodded, Mary began picking up plates and flatware and stacking them in the big farmhouse sink.

Later, Chris would wonder why he happened to be looking at Mary just as she walked too close to the stove with the plates. Her elbow hit the handle of the percolator, knocking it off the stove top and sending the hot pot flying toward her.

Jumping to his feet, Chris pushed Mary aside and took the brunt of the pot slamming into him, splashing his chest with scalding hot coffee. His breath whooshed out of him as the searing liquid soaked his shirt. A curse leaped to his lips as the pain blistered his hands and his chest, but he bit it back, not wanting the children to hear.

Matthew jumped up. "Are you hurt?"

Chris pulled his shirt from his skin. He would never have believed coffee could be so unbelievably hot.

"Oh my," Phoebe cried. "I thought I pushed that back far enough on the stove."

"Here, get your shirt off," Hannah said urgently.

She tugged it away from his skin and over his head before Chris could object. Then she grasped his hand and pulled him to the sink, turned on the cold water, and splashed handful after handful on his bare chest.

"Ice," Phoebe said as she looked over his reddened skin."We'll get some ice. Mary, grab a clean kitchen towel there, put some ice in it."