They’re nice, ain’t so? Expensive, too. Cameron, one of my friends from Louisville, picked them up for me. He got two pairs.” He threw off the comment, just as if she were no more important to him than an afterthought.
She was confused. He’d brought her men’s sunglasses, given to him from one of his drug-dealing friends? Holding them up in front of her face, she turned them this way and that. “Whatever would I do with them?”
“Wear them, of course.” His voice grew impatient. “Try them on, Frannie.”
They were only sunglasses. Though it wasn’t the norm for Amish to wear sunglasses, it wasn’t unheard of, either.
But these sunglasses looked expensive. And worldly. These screamed English and were built for a man’s face, not her own.
They seemed to stand for everything she was not.
And right then and there, she knew she couldn’t accept them.
Every time she looked at them, they’d symbolize everything that was wrong with them. With her. With Perry.
“I don’t want them.”
“You’re not even going to try them on? What’s wrong, Frannie? Afraid you’re going to get tainted?” His voice was loud now—loud enough to reverberate around them.
But there was no one to overhear.
She stepped farther back. “I just don’t want them.” Holding out her hands, she attempted to give them back. “You should keep them.”
His eyes narrowed. Then, to her great surprise, he stepped back. “Nee.”
Oh, she hated when he acted like this! “Perry, please—”
“If you don’t want them, get rid of them yourself.”
She was so frustrated, so hurt, so mad at herself for continually thinking she could make a difference to him, she did what he suggested. In one swift motion, she tossed the glasses into the woods. Frannie followed their path with a lump in her throat. And immediately felt guilty.
“I’m sorry. I’ll go fetch them. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He stopped her with a firm grip on her arm. “No, let them be. If you don’t want them, I don’t, either. We’ll leave them for the Millers. Maybe their cows can use them.” He grinned at his joke.
She shivered at his dark tone. Who had Perry become? With a jerk, she pulled her arm from his grasp. “I’m going to leave now.”
“Jah. I think you should. Go, Frannie. Go on, now.”
She stepped backward, relieved to be leaving him, but so disappointed about his troubles. “Maybe we can get you some help—”
“I don’t need help, Frannie. And I don’t need you. Just go. And let’s hope we never see each other ever again.”
She turned. And headed home.
And realized as she heard his laugh behind her that finally . . . finally they had something in common.
She, too, hoped she’d never see him again.
But of course, she doubted she would ever be that lucky.
Chapter 1
“Perry and I kissed one time. Once was enough.”
FRANNIE EICHER
Three months later . . .
Frannie Eicher didn’t sleep at night. Actually, she didn’t sleep that much during the day, either.
It was becoming something of a problem.
She didn’t try to stay awake on purpose; it was just that sometime over the last couple of weeks, it had become a habit. One night, she hadn’t been tired and read for hours. Once she’d realized it was past two in the morning, Frannie turned off her light and closed her eyes.
Nothing happened. She didn’t relax, didn’t yawn. Didn’t feel that comforting blanket of sleep begin to descend. Instead, guilt would creep slowly into the forefront of her mind.
And then while the red numbers on her battery-operated digital clock flickered and changed, she’d start to remember her transgressions.
Until the sun began its morning climb up to the horizon.
The following evening, the same thing happened.
By the fourth night, she’d almost begun to accept insomnia as part of her life. Kind of like praying during the morning sunrise and doing wash on Tuesdays.
The good news was that she now had a very small to-be-read pile of books on her bedside table. The bad news, of course, was that she felt permanently tired. Her muscles ached, her head pounded. She’d begun to have small, silly accidents.
Her concentration would waver.
None of these things were welcome. She was a single woman running her own business. When her bed-and-breakfast was filled with guests, she needed to be at her best in order for everything to get done.
Everything was not getting done.
Every so often, her brain would listen to her body and she’d instantly fall asleep, wherever she might be. Sometimes it would be at her desk; she’d awaken with a crick in her