Page 34 of Unforgotten

“You don’t want to hitch up the buggy?”

“Nee.” She, like a lot of other people her age in the Amish community, had begun riding her bicycle more and more. Some had even purchased electric bikes. They were expensive but cheaper than the care and feeding of a good horse. Plus, it was so convenient not to have to worry about a horse getting spooked or keeping it comfortable on the hot days of summer and cold days of winter. She didn’t have an electric bicycle, but hers was red, had a lovely basket on the front, and made her happy. Plus, it was always good exercise. “I’ll be home in a couple of hours.”

Frowning, her mother stood. “A couple of hours? Surely they don’t need you to stay there all afternoon?”

“They don’t. I have somewhere else to go.” Knowing that she was going to have to reveal the truth sooner or later, she added, “I’m going to stop by Burke Lumber and talk to Jay.”

Worry and confusion filled her gaze. “Why?”

“I owe him an apology.”

She sat back down. “For what, child?”

“I was rude to him. I feel terrible and I want to do the right thing.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “I see. Well, ah, going into a place like Burke Lumber and asking to speak to Jay is something new for you.”

That was an understatement. “I know. But I want to do it.”

“I’m glad. That’s a blessing.”

Bethanne nodded. She was proud of how far she’d come, though until that moment, she hadn’t taken the time to reflect on just how far that was.

She’d only been thinking about what to say to Jay. Was she developing different feelings for him, or was she just feeling guilty? She hated that her mind was in such a muddle where he was concerned. It was almost impossible for her to think about Jay, Peter, Seth, or her fears individually. Each felt like part of a grid that created the worst experience in her life. It didn’t make sense and it wasn’t logical.

“Do you want to talk about it before you leave? I have time.”

“Nee, Mamm.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I just have a couple of things to discuss with Jay.” And those things were private. Not for her mother’s ears. Not this time.

“I understand. You have your cell phone?”

“I do.” Her parents had received permission from the bishop for Bethanne to carry a cell phone with her at all times. Now if there was an emergency—or if her fears got the best of her—she’d be able to call the police for help.

“I’ll listen for the kitchen phone. You know, just in case something goes wrong.”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong.”

Standing up again, her mother folded her arms across her chest. “You know, maybe you should call after you get to the publishing house. Just to let me know you’re safe.”

“I will not.” When her mother inhaled, obviously eager to argue her point, Bethanne walked to the back hallway and loaded her books into a canvas tote bag.

Mamm followed. “Child—”

Frustrated with the entire situation, Bethanne turned on her. “Nee, Mamm. I am not a child. I’m a grown woman and it’s time I acted like one around here too.”

“You might be a grown woman, but you aren’t like everyone else.”

For too long she’d believed that to be true. But getting to know Seth and Tabitha Zimmerman over the course of the last year had given her a new perspective. They’d learned a lot about forgiveness and taught her about that too—including the fact that she needed to forgive herself.

Now she was realizing that she needed determination to keep one night’s tragedy from taking center stage in her mind. That wasn’t healthy, and she knew it. Just because something was unforgotten didn’t mean it had to be given great importance.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mamm,” she said at last. “I am like everyone else. Every woman, by the time she reaches her midtwenties, has experienced a hardship of one kind or another. I’m no different than anyone else.”

Pain entered her mother’s eyes. “But—”

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