grandfather had been Amish?"
His blank stare answered that. "Amish? No. Are you sure? I don't remember seeing any Amish people at the funeral, and I'd have noticed something like that at that age."
"He'd left the church by then." She suspected he wouldn't be content with that.
"Left the church? You mean they shunned him?" His voice showed distaste. "They wouldn't even come to his funeral?"
She was probably doing this all wrong. "From what Grams said, the choice was his, not theirs. Please don't think the Amish—"
"I don't think anything about them, one way or the other. Why should it matter to me? It's not as if my grandfather ever wanted a relationship with me. I'm doing this for my mother."
How much of his mother's personality had been determined by that bitter old man? Instinct told her Tyler needed to deal with those feelings, but she felt unable to reach him without crossing some barrier that would turn them into more than casual acquaintances.
"Families can be wonderful, but they can be hurtful, too." Like Daddy, leaving them without a goodbye. Or Mom, taking them away from the only security they'd ever known.
His hand came out and caught hers, holding it in a firm, warm grasp. "I guess you know something about it, don't you?"
"A bit. For me, my grandparents were the saving grace. I don't know who I'd be without them."
"My dad was the rock in our family. Anything I know about how to be a decent Christian man, I learned from him."
"You still miss him," she said softly, warmed by the grasp of his hand and the sense that he was willing to confide in her.
They had crossed that barrier, and it was a little scary on the other side.
He nodded. "He died when I was in my last year of high school, but I measure every decision against what I think he'd expect of me."
"If he knows, he must be glad that he had such an influence on your life."
"I hope he does." His voice had gone a little husky. He cleared his throat, probably embarrassed at showing so much emotion.
"You know," she said tentatively, "maybe knowing a little more about why your grandfather was the way he was would help you understand your mother, as well." She gave a rueful smile. "Believe me, if I could figure out what made my parents tick, I'd jump at the chance."
He seemed to become aware that he was still holding her hand, and he let go slowly. "I'll think about it. But there is something else you can do for me."
"Of course. What?"
"Your grandmother said you'd let me see your grandfather's ledgers. I'd appreciate that."
She felt as if someone had dropped an ice cube down her back. It took a moment to find her voice.
"Of course. I'll get them out for you." She turned away. She'd been wrong. They hadn't moved to a new relationship after all. Tyler still suspected her grandfather, and to him she was nothing but a source of information.
* * *
She had told Tyler she'd have the ledgers ready for him this evening, but that was beginning to look doubtful. Rachel looked up toward the ceiling of the church sanctuary, where a teenager perched at the top of a ladder, the end of a string of greenery in his hand. She was almost afraid to say something to him, for fear it would throw off his balance.
"That's fine, Jon. Just slip it over the hook and come back down."
He grinned, apparently perfectly at ease on his lofty perch. "Am I making you nervous, Ms. Rachel?"
"Definitely," she replied. "So get down here or I'll tell Pastor Greg on you."
Still grinning, he hooked the garland in place and started down, nimble as a monkey. She could breathe again.
She wasn't quite sure how she'd allowed herself to be talked into helping with the youth group's efforts to decorate the sanctuary for Advent. Supervising the teenagers' efforts might be harder than doing it herself, except that she'd never have gotten up on that ladder. The memory of flying off that stepladder when she'd put up the inn's Christmas lights was too fresh in her mind. She still didn't
His blank stare answered that. "Amish? No. Are you sure? I don't remember seeing any Amish people at the funeral, and I'd have noticed something like that at that age."
"He'd left the church by then." She suspected he wouldn't be content with that.
"Left the church? You mean they shunned him?" His voice showed distaste. "They wouldn't even come to his funeral?"
She was probably doing this all wrong. "From what Grams said, the choice was his, not theirs. Please don't think the Amish—"
"I don't think anything about them, one way or the other. Why should it matter to me? It's not as if my grandfather ever wanted a relationship with me. I'm doing this for my mother."
How much of his mother's personality had been determined by that bitter old man? Instinct told her Tyler needed to deal with those feelings, but she felt unable to reach him without crossing some barrier that would turn them into more than casual acquaintances.
"Families can be wonderful, but they can be hurtful, too." Like Daddy, leaving them without a goodbye. Or Mom, taking them away from the only security they'd ever known.
His hand came out and caught hers, holding it in a firm, warm grasp. "I guess you know something about it, don't you?"
"A bit. For me, my grandparents were the saving grace. I don't know who I'd be without them."
"My dad was the rock in our family. Anything I know about how to be a decent Christian man, I learned from him."
"You still miss him," she said softly, warmed by the grasp of his hand and the sense that he was willing to confide in her.
They had crossed that barrier, and it was a little scary on the other side.
He nodded. "He died when I was in my last year of high school, but I measure every decision against what I think he'd expect of me."
"If he knows, he must be glad that he had such an influence on your life."
"I hope he does." His voice had gone a little husky. He cleared his throat, probably embarrassed at showing so much emotion.
"You know," she said tentatively, "maybe knowing a little more about why your grandfather was the way he was would help you understand your mother, as well." She gave a rueful smile. "Believe me, if I could figure out what made my parents tick, I'd jump at the chance."
He seemed to become aware that he was still holding her hand, and he let go slowly. "I'll think about it. But there is something else you can do for me."
"Of course. What?"
"Your grandmother said you'd let me see your grandfather's ledgers. I'd appreciate that."
She felt as if someone had dropped an ice cube down her back. It took a moment to find her voice.
"Of course. I'll get them out for you." She turned away. She'd been wrong. They hadn't moved to a new relationship after all. Tyler still suspected her grandfather, and to him she was nothing but a source of information.
* * *
She had told Tyler she'd have the ledgers ready for him this evening, but that was beginning to look doubtful. Rachel looked up toward the ceiling of the church sanctuary, where a teenager perched at the top of a ladder, the end of a string of greenery in his hand. She was almost afraid to say something to him, for fear it would throw off his balance.
"That's fine, Jon. Just slip it over the hook and come back down."
He grinned, apparently perfectly at ease on his lofty perch. "Am I making you nervous, Ms. Rachel?"
"Definitely," she replied. "So get down here or I'll tell Pastor Greg on you."
Still grinning, he hooked the garland in place and started down, nimble as a monkey. She could breathe again.
She wasn't quite sure how she'd allowed herself to be talked into helping with the youth group's efforts to decorate the sanctuary for Advent. Supervising the teenagers' efforts might be harder than doing it herself, except that she'd never have gotten up on that ladder. The memory of flying off that stepladder when she'd put up the inn's Christmas lights was too fresh in her mind. She still didn't
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