low-calorie foods. “Of course not! If we had wanted low-calorie, we wouldn’t have come here to eat. Instead we need to work on feeding our souls.”
A light entered her brown eyes. “Well, if we’re not watching our waistlines, then my soul says it wants coconut cream pie.”
“Mine does, too! And a cup of coffee.” When the waitress came over, they both ordered the same thing.
Deborah was glad their paths had crossed. Looking for a job but only getting refusals was taking a toll on her confidence. Abby’s smiles and unending questions were doing a great job of taking her mind off her problems.
She also knew that Abby was waiting for her to answer her question. And though she wasn’t sure how to answer it, she gave it a try.
“Abby, the reason I’m not planning to sit at home and take care of things is because there’s not much left. Now’s not the right time, either. It’s just my parents and me now. And to be truthful, we’re a sad sort of trio.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stop bringing up bad subjects.”
“We’d be that way whether you brought up memories or not, Abby.” She hesitated, then deciding that talking about her family and Perry with someone who didn’t really know him helped clear her head. “See, we’re mourning his loss, but my parents and I are dealing with the things we’re finding out about his life, too.”
Abby averted her eyes. “Walker said Perry was . . . difficult.”
Deborah was surprised Walker had been that diplomatic. Her brother hadn’t been shy about complaining about Walker breaking off their friendship. “Perry made a lot of things difficult,” she said, feeling like she was being honest about her brother for the first time in her life. “He was a mess and he was loud. He could be lazy and mean, too.” Though it hurt, she pushed herself to say the rest. “Then, he was angry.”
“But someone told me he’d been nice to her.”
Deborah wondered if she was talking about Frannie Eicher or Lydia Plank. “Perry did have some good qualities,” she allowed. “For most of his life, he was perfectly nice. But then he became someone no one recognized.”
He’d also become someone she’d begun to fear. Afraid that Abby would sense her betrayal, she swallowed back a whole host of regrets and disappointments. “Perry had begun to take drugs, and then sell them, too. But I guess you knew that.”
Abby looked at her for a long moment. It was obvious now that she had something on her mind that she was hesitant to ask.
Deborah braced herself. “Do you have another question about my brother?”
“Yes. No.” She bit her lip.
“Go ahead and ask. If I don’t want to answer, I won’t.”
“All right. Remember when we were talking about God’s plan?”
“I do.”
“Out of all the people in Crittenden County, why do you think He decided that I should be the one to discover Perry?”
Deborah had wondered why it had been her brother who’d become a drug dealer. Why her brother had been the one to go missing.
Why it had to have been her brother in the well.
Then, suddenly, she had the answer. Just as if God had decided to whisper into her ear in the booth of Mary King Yoder’s restaurant. “Because you can handle it,” she replied.
Their pie came then, and Deborah dug into her piece with gusto. Her mind was racing too much to talk to Abby.
The memories had come back, when she’d been sure Perry had run off to the city. She would sit by the window and stare blankly out. Wishing for a sign that he was on his way home.
Wishing that he would return and miraculously be the boy they’d always loved instead of the man he’d turned into.
But of course he never came home.
When Mose had appeared on their doorstep, hat in hand, and had told her parents the news, it had truly been one of the darkest moments in her life.
But now she realized that there had been some sense of relief, too. She and her parents had imagined Perry being homeless and hungry.
Or doing unlawful things. Or being hurt and unable to ask for help.
Deborah had learned that her mind could be a terrible foe in the middle of the night. At three in the morning, her worst fears about Perry surfaced . . . and those fears had been too frightening to ever share in the morning’s light.
“I don’t know how well I’m handling things, but