Page 13 of Unforgotten

It hadn’t been easy. She’d had setbacks. Lots of them. But she did the best she could. No matter who had tried to get her to change—the bishop, her parents, the counselor—she’d fought against it. Only after watching Tabitha and Seth Zimmerman overcome their obstacles did she decide that she needed to start leaving the house. Now, she was even able to make future plans with a friend instead of determining what she was capable of each morning.

After picking up a pair of scissors, Bethanne deftly sliced through the seal, opened the flaps, and stared down at the collection of manuscripts packed neatly inside. Out of habit, she looked at the first two and checked to see if any of the authors were ones she’d read before.

But instead of choosing one to begin, she set them back inside. She didn’t feel like diving in. Not yet. Curling up in her window seat, she looked outside and thought about Lott and Melonie on the porch.

And then, against her will, she thought about Jay Byler. And realized that she didn’t dislike him as much as she used to. Of course, maybe she’d never actually disliked him at all. He’d just reminded her of things she’d preferred not to think about.

That had been a foolish endeavor, for sure and for certain.

“Some things—or maybe some people—are simply unforgettable,” she mused. Like the way Jay seemed to stare at her so intently that he could read her mind.

Imagining such a thing, Bethanne almost smiled.

But then she realized that there were many, many things that were unforgettable. Some of which didn’t just catch her imagination, they gripped her nightmares. Some nights the images appeared again, playing over and over. Holding her captive.

She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to push back a current of dread and darkness. But it was too late. All the memories had returned. She felt chilled again. Before she could help herself, she walked to her door and closed it tight.

Just for peace of mind.

5

Mondays were becoming more and more difficult to take. Sitting in the air-conditioned conference room that was a degree too low for comfort, Jay tried to act as if neither the company’s newest line manager’s words about safety and productivity nor the frigid temperature bothered him. Revealing his true feelings about either would only get more attention focused on him.

Which, with Sam Kropf, was never a good idea. The man might have been a handful of years older than Jay, but he was also difficult and far less mature. In Jay’s opinion, at least.

Sam seemed to view everyone at the sawmill—with the exception of Mr. Burkholder—as competition for his job. He had no problem using his new promotion and managerial duties to his benefit. He also seemed to enjoy making the rest of the workers look bad. Even worse, he used his position to make other people miserable.

Just last week, he’d given Andrew three late-night shifts in a row and then followed them up with a fourth shift early in the morning. Even though that wasn’t supposed to be allowed.

When poor Andrew had shown up on the fourth day sluggishand bitter, Sam had used the guy, in a leadership meeting, as an example of some of the staff not working hard. Of course, no one in the room believed Sam. Most everyone knew about Andrew’s schedule too.

Except, perhaps, Mr. Burkholder.

Jay allowed his mind to drift as Sam continued to read from the sheet of paper that they all had in front of them. Since it was all about safety protocols that had been put into place years ago, he had no need to pay too much attention.

Instead, he thought about Bethanne and their conversation two days ago. No, it hadn’t gone all that well. But at least they’d talked. That was a step in the right direction. Their brief exchange had given him the strength he’d needed to still have hope for a future with Bethy. Despite everything, he wanted the honor of calling her his wife one day.

Sure, it was a pipe dream. As far as he knew, Bethanne hadn’t allowed any man to get near her in the last seven years. She barely spoke to men, let alone permitted one to come courting.

But there was always a first time, right?

“What do you think, Jay?” Sam asked loudly.

Feeling the man’s almost triumphant gaze settle on him, Jay looked at him. “I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?”

Sam folded his arms over his chest like Jay’s inattention was costing the company thousands of dollars. “Why do you need it repeated? Were you not paying attention?”

This was exactly why Sam was not a good manager. He took pride in belittling other people in order to make himself feel more important.

For his part, Jay was proud that he didn’t tell Sam that he thought he was boring and long-winded. “I need to have your question repeated because I do.”

There was a collective inhale from the table. Sam looked like he was fighting with himself. After a few strained seconds—which felt like minutes—he nodded. “I asked what you thought about the new regulations from the state regarding the machinery.”

“I think they make sense and I’ll do my best to follow them.”

“Your best?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Everyone’s best is good enough, ain’t so?” Virgil asked. “After all, if someone needs help, all they have to do is ask and help will be given. That’s how we’ve always worked.” Virgil was the eldest in the room, and everyone respected him. Even Mr. Burkholder paid attention to what he had to say.

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