Do you ever wish things were different? I used to.
BETH BYLER
Could ten seconds ever feel longer? Beth’s pulse raced and she kept glancing over her shoulder, afraid she was being spied upon.
On the other end of the line, the line clicked as the operator connected them. Then the rings began. One. Two. Three . .
Four.
What she was doing was wrong. Chris’s private life was none of her concern. He certainly wouldn’t thank her for meddling. What she should do was hang up.
Ring number five. She held her finger over the button, ready to end the connection . . .
“Hello?” The voice was brusque but friendly. Out of breath.
It was now or never. “Yes. Hello?”
“Yes?” The lady sounded more impatient now. Like she was about to hang up.
“Is this the Hart residence?”
“Yes? May I help you? And listen, if this is a telemarketer, I’m on the do not call list . . . ”
Beth had no idea what kind of list that was. All she did know was that she’d better say something meaningful, and quickly. “I’m calling about your son.”
There was a sharp intake of breath. “Which one? Is something wrong? Did something happen?” she blurted, her voice now sounding nervous. “And who is this?”
“My . . . My name is Beth Byler. I’m calling about Chris.”
“Chris?” The woman’s voice seemed to rise a whole octave. “Oh my gosh, Chris. Hold on.” There was a rustle and a clatter as the receiver was set down, followed by a muffled call. “Tim! Come here quick.”
When the woman got on the phone again, Beth had finally composed herself. It was strange, but just knowing that she’d called the right house and was actually speaking to someone who cared about Chris, too, put her at ease. “Is this is his mamm?”
“Mamm? Uh, no. I’m his mother,” she said hesitantly. “What, ah, what do you know about Chris?”
Beth decided the best way to begin was with the basic information. “I live in Marion, Kentucky. Your son, he is a friend of mine.”
“Have you seen him lately? Is he okay?”
“He is okay, I suppose,” Beth said slowly. “He is resting here. I am looking after a bed-and-breakfast.” Realizing how choppy everything was sounding, she bit her lip. This wasn’t going too well.
“Tim?” the woman said again. “Tim, this woman says Chris is with her.”
There was another click, then a deep voice spoke. “Hello?”
“Hi,” Beth said. One more time, she introduced herself. “My name is Beth. I am a friend of your son Chris.”
“Yes?” The man’s voice sounded even more wary.
“Um, well . . . because it’s Christmas, I wanted to call and let you know that your son is all right.”
After the briefest of hesitations, he said, “He hasn’t been all right for a long time.”
Beth was stunned until she remembered that his family didn’t know what he truly did for a living. Oh, but she wished that she had thought things through before she had called them. It was a difficult thing, trying to figure out what to say to clear Chris’s name without giving away his secrets. “Chris is a mighty gut man,” she finally said. “The best.”
“Miss, where are you from?” his mother asked. “Did you say Kentucky?”
“Jah.”
“You sound strange.”
“I’m Amish.”
“You’re Amish?” the man repeated.
Right on his heels, the woman asked, “Our Chris is staying with an Amish woman in a bed-and-breakfast in Marion?”
“Yes. He was injured, you see. But he is better now.”
“Injured? What happened?”
“He was in a fight with some bad men.”
Chris’s father chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy sound. Instead it sounded bitter. Harsh and disappointed. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but Chris has been lying to you. He’s the bad one.”
“Nee. That is not true!”
“What isn’t?” Chris said from behind her.
She turned so quickly, she almost dropped the phone. “Chris!”
“Chris is there with you right now? Can you put him on?” his mother said urgently.
Chris stared at her. “Beth, who are you on the phone with?” As he saw the answer in her eyes, the color drained from his face. “What have you done?”
“I’m giving you a Christmas present.” Abruptly making up her mind, she thrust the phone at him. “I’ve been talking to your parents, Chris. But I fear I’ve been doing a poor job of it. You . . . you should talk now.”
He shook his head even while his left hand grabbed the cell phone.
With a look of pain, he held it up to his ear. “Mom?” he asked. “Dad? Yeah, it’s me.”
Beth felt like crying. Even though it was hurting him, she knew she had made the right decision. Turning, she grabbed one of the kitchen chairs, dragged it to where Chris was standing, and gently guided him into it.
“Dad, Mom, there’s a reason I couldn’t contact you. A very good one. Uh, no, Dad. That is actually not what I was doing,” he said quickly.
Standing off to the side, Beth watched him bite his lip, then shrug. Just as if he’d made a decision. “The truth is that I’ve been working for the DEA for years undercover.” He paused, then spoke again. “Yes, the Drug Enforcement Agency.”
Just as she was edging away, Chris reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t leave,” he mouthed, just before he spoke out loud again. “I know I looked scary, Mom, but that’s kind of the point.”
To her bemused surprise, his lips curved up. “I’m not hurt too badly, Mom. Just a little banged up.” He sighed. “It’s nothing, I promise. Stitches.”
Little by little, Beth felt her anxiety settle as she felt Chris’s whole mood lift. As he continued to talk, asking about his brothers, she watched him run a hand through his hair.
Then, wonder of wonders, he chuckled.
“I know, Mom.”
Danke, Got, she silently prayed. She truly hadn’t been certain that this had been the right thing to do. All she had felt was a real need to make things a little brighter for him while he was still with her.
Now, all she had to do was pretend that she wasn’t going to miss him terribly when he left the day after Christmas. . . .
“Beth?”
Realizing her mind had drifted, she stared at him. “Yes?”
He handed her the phone again. “My mother wants to talk to you.”
Feeling awkward, she took the phone from him and put it up to her ear. “Yes?”
“Thank you,” his mother said, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for calling us. I don’t know if you’ll ever know how much it meant to me to hear Chris’s voice.”
Gazing at Chris, noticing the change that had come over his features just from the five-minute phone call, Beth realized that she might have some idea about that. Tears filled her eyes.
“I’m just glad you answered the phone,” she said.
“I hope one day we’ll get to meet.”
“Yes. Um, me, too,” she murmured. “I would like that.” Of course, it wasn’t likely. From what Ryan had said, in two days Chris would leave Marion, would most likely leave Kentucky. He was going to get a new name. Get a new identity. And then he’d be gone from her life all over again.
When she handed the phone back to Chris, he said a few words, then hung up.
Then he turned to her, his face a mixture of bewilderment and admiration. “I can’t believe you did that. You took me completely by surprise.”
“I know.” She was secretly pleased with herself. He was a man used to being constantly on alert. She considered it almost a badge of honor that she was able to catch him off guard like that.
“You shouldn’t have called them without asking me.” His voice was raspy. But was it from anger or something else?
“I know you are upset with me, but I cannot regret this.” She was just thankful he wasn’t asking her why she’d done it, because she really didn’t know. It had just seemed like the right thing.
She stared at him. Gazed into that curious shade of blue and green and gray. Then, to her surprise, he yanked her close into a fierce embrace.
All of a sudden, she was surrounded by Chris. By his tall, muscular build. By his clean scent. By his warmth and his strong personality.
His hands were firm on her back and head. He was pressing her close, not in a scary, hurtful way, but as if he couldn’t get her close enough.
As if he was trying to commit that hug to memory.
In response, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.
Because she knew exactly what he was trying to do. After all, she was trying to do the same thing.