“Don’t go inside, Julie.” His tone was firm, even to his own ears. “It’s not necessary.”
“I can’t control the memories—” She steeled her jaw. “But facing the past in the light of day will help me heal even more.”
He shook his head. “You need more time.”
“It’s been five years.”
“A few more days won’t hurt.”
“Except I have a new life that’s waiting for me.” She stared at him, then turned to the porch and climbed the stairs.
A crow cawed and he glanced up as it soared overhead. Clouds blocked the sun and a cold wind whipped across the barnyard, tugging at Julianne’s hair. With trembling hands, she slipped the key into the lock. The door creaked open. Straightening her shoulders, she entered the cold interior.
William wiped the mud from his boots and followed her inside, noting the simple furnishings, the woodstove, the oil lamps and kitchen cupboards. The curtains blocked the light and cast the house in shadows.
With decided steps, she approached the closest window, pushed back the curtain and peered through the dusty pane. She touched the glass, then turned and swept her gaze over the main room. “A good cleaning will help. Plus, I’ll need supplies if I stay here.”
“That’s not wise after what happened last night. I have two spare guest rooms on the second floor. Both would provide for your privacy.”
“And what would the town gossips say, William? Tongues would wag. I won’t dishonor your name.”
He smiled ruefully. “It would not be the first time people talked behind my back.”
“Perhaps, but the bishop would take issue with your father and insist he control his wayward son.”
Evidently, she didn’t know. “My father died five months ago.”
“Oh, William.” She clasped her hands over her heart. “I’m so sorry.”
“I am, as well, but it is the way of life.”
And death, which he failed to mention. Julianne knew enough about death.
“Now both of us are orphans, yah?” he said.
“I feel more like a teenager looking for what I left behind.” She peered into the empty pantry.
His heart went out to her and he stepped closer. “Your aunt asked some of the ladies to clean the kitchen of anything perishable before she closed up the house.”
“A wise decision.” Julie tugged a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t remember much about those first few weeks.”
“The shock undoubtedly blocked your memory.”
She touched the dusty counter and then glanced up at him. “Aunt Mary said you tried to say goodbye.”
“Yah.” He pulled in a breath, seeing the question in her gaze. “I left Mountain Loft for a few years to find myself. My first stop was at your aunt’s house in Willkommen. She said you were not ready to receive visitors.”
“My aunt was protective.” Julie sighed. “Perhaps overly so.”
“She was thinking of your well-being.”
“For which I am grateful. When I left Willkommen—”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re no longer staying with Mary?”
“I live in Dahlonega now.”
“The old gold mining town?”
She nodded. “The site of the first major US gold rush in 1828.”
He smiled. “You have become a history buff.”
“Hardly, but the tourists have questions. They visit the mines and pan for gold and then buy gifts in the shop where I work.”
Glancing at the Englischer clothing she wore and the car parked in the drive, he voiced the question that begged to be asked. “Am I right to believe you are no longer Amish?”
“I decided to make a fresh start in Dahlonega. That included embracing Englisch ways.” She angled her head and gazed at him with her jade-green eyes. “What about you? That night at the lake, you talked about leaving Mountain Loft. I presumed that meant leaving the faith as well.”
“Living Englisch was my plan. Then my father became ill...” He shrugged. “Someone needed to care for him.”
“Yet you struggled under his control when you were young.”
“Young and foolish. We reconciled. His lungs were bad, and his well-being was more important than hanging on to past misunderstandings.”
“You’re a good man, William Lavy.”
Her remark touched a chord. He didn’t think of himself as gut, but he couldn’t let his father languish alone. Julianne would have done the same if she’d been given the chance.
“The sheriff’s never been one of my favorite people.” She glanced around the kitchen and into the main room. “Especially the way he handled the investigation five years ago, but I need to report what happened last night, and I could use some support.”
“I’ll come with you. After we talk to the sheriff, we can stop at the Country Kitchen for waffles and coffee.”
A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “You remembered.”
He remembered a lot of things about Julie that he needed to forget. Instead, he needed to focus on her safety. Someone had attacked her last night. William wanted to ensure the man in the red bandana didn’t try to harm her again.
Copyright © 2021 by Deborah W. Giusti
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ISBN-13: 9780369704221
Alaskan Mountain Pursuit
Copyright © 2021 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Tailspin
First published in 2016. This edition published in 2021.
Copyright © 2016 by Elizabeth Goddard
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First published in 2018. This edition published in 2021.
Copyright © 2018 by Sarah Varland
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced inany manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books
