Chapter
Eight

“Do you think Martha will keep quiet about the pictures?” I asked Reuben. We’d stopped for lunch at The Whistle Stop Café after a walking tour of Sanctuary. Reuben had introduced me to several people who’d agreed to let me interview them. I was charmed by the small town and its eclectic residents. It was clear that this piece of our story would be very interesting. Boiling it down to a few minutes would be tough.

The Whistle Stop was almost an exact duplicate of The Oil Lamp, except the owner, who seemed to be working all alone in the restaurant, was softer and sweeter than Randi. And when she went to the kitchen to cook, she didn’t glower at me the way August had.

I’d left Zac at Esther’s. He’d phoned Reuben in person after breakfast and confessed to taking and sending the pictures. I knew it was hard for him, but to his credit, he was completely honest and took full responsibility for his actions. However, he wasn’t quite ready to face Reuben yet and had elected to skip lunch to do some online research about Ryan’s disappearance. Since I was still full from breakfast, I ordered a small salad. Reuben was already on his second helping of chili. His lean frame contradicted his zest for food.

“Yes. I explained what happened. She was upset but also relieved that the pictures didn’t go any farther than her computer. I’m thankful Zac admitted the truth about what he did.”

I nodded. “I am too, but—”

“You’re not sure you can trust him now?”

“Exactly.”

Reuben frowned. “He took a chance, you know. Telling you everything.”

“I know.” I sighed and shook my head. “I have a very hard time trusting people.”

“And why is that, Wynter? Someone hurt you?”

I stared into his cobalt-blue eyes. “Long story. Not very interesting.”

“It is to me.”

I cleared my throat to give myself a moment to think. How much should I tell this man? In the end, I went with the partial truth.

“My parents divorced when I was sixteen. The divorce left my mother scarred and my father absent. He remarried, got a new family, and walked out on his old one. I guess I’m not in a rush to put myself in another situation where I can be rejected again.”

Reuben’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s pretty intuitive. Most people don’t understand why they react the way they do.”

“Sure,” I said with a quick smile. “I may be damaged, but at least I know why.”

Reuben didn’t laugh at my attempt to lighten the tone of our conversation. “I’ve found trying to protect yourself from pain usually makes it worse. Life hurts sometimes, Wynter. But getting caught in the past can destroy the good life God has planned for you.”

I grunted. “Maybe God only has a plan for special people. I’ve decided to take over my life and do what I want with it. If He doesn’t like it, He’ll have to tell me.”

Reuben put his spoon down. “That sounds pretty cynical.”

“I-I’m sorry. That didn’t come out the way I wanted. I mean, I believe in God. I’m not trying to be rebellious; it’s just that I can’t give control of my life over to someone I don’t understand.”

“Do you go to church?”

“I used to, when I was a kid. But I quit going after . . . after my parents’ divorce. I don’t feel the need to be part of organized religion. Too many hypocrites there.”

Reuben smiled. “Maybe that’s why we need churches. To help the hypocrites.”

“My mother says the same thing. She keeps asking me if I’m back in church. I know it upsets her when I say no.” I speared a big, juicy piece of tomato with my fork. “I’ll find a church someday, I guess. But right now, I’m too busy.”

Reuben didn’t say anything, just went back to his bowl of chili. For some reason something my Sunday school teacher once said reverberated in my head. “We should never be too busy for God, children. He wasn’t too busy to give His life for us.”

Why in the world was I thinking about that now? I shook my head as if I could jiggle the unsettling thought out of my brain. It didn’t work. It kept echoing in my mind while Reuben talked. I tried to listen, but by the time my thoughts were clear again, I was lost.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally. “Could you repeat what you just said? I get a little distracted sometimes.”

“Sorry. I have a tendency to drone on and on.”

“No, it’s not you. Really. You were saying something about the people who live in Sanctuary?”

“Yes. I was explaining that no one here is hiding out from the law, if that concerns you. We don’t shelter criminals.”

“I wondered about women hiding from their abusers. This would be the perfect place to start over. If you like small towns.”

Reuben nodded. “That might be true. And releasing the wrong information could put someone in danger.”

I couldn’t hold back an exasperated sigh. “Then why are we here?”

Reuben smiled slowly. “Martha’s initial enthusiasm opened the door. Several of us tried to shut it, but it was too late.”

My mouth dropped open. “You were one of the people who called my station?”

“Yes. I asked your boss to reconsider using Sanctuary for your special. From what he said, I assumed he’d agreed. I was surprised when you showed up.”

“When we met, you didn’t act surprised. I got the impression you wanted us here.”

He shrugged. “You were already in town. I was afraid asking you to leave would just make things worse. You know, reporters smelling a story. I figured if we gave you what you wanted, within reason, you’d leave. It seemed like the safest choice.”

“I didn’t come here to exploit this town, Reuben.”

“I know that now.” He nodded quickly and stared down at his bowl.

“You could ask us to leave, you know. It would be the safest choice, wouldn’t it?”

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and met my gaze. “I don’t want you to go, Wynter. I like you, and I want some time to get to know you a little better.” He blinked several times but didn’t break eye contact. “Maybe that sounds selfish.”

The usual protective wall that automatically went up when a man expressed interest in me stayed in place for a reason I couldn’t begin to understand. Finally I said, “No. Not really.”

There was a long silence, but it wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable. Instead, it felt restful. Calm. Suddenly, the last time I saw Ryan popped into my head. Stay focused, Wynter. You’re here to find your brother. Nothing else matters.

We finished our lunch and left, walking back through town toward Esther’s. It was a lovely spring day. A light breeze kept us cool, and the smell of honeysuckle surrounded us like a soft, sweet perfume. Reuben took me to a quilt shop that was closed when we’d first walked through town. I met Rachel Stolz and her mother, Beatrice. Their quilts were lovely, and I decided to buy one before I left Sanctuary. Being conservative Mennonites, they declined an on-air interview but agreed to let us get some footage of the store and some of the quilts.

We’d just left when a stocky woman walked up to us, a big smile on her face.

“Howdy, Mayor,” she said loudly. Although she addressed Reuben, her eyes were glued on me.

“Hello, Rae,” he said. “Visiting a patient in town?”

She nodded. Short and round, hair cut like a man’s and dressed in overalls, she exuded a kind of enthusiastic presence. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Mady Rae Buettner. Everyone calls me Rae.”

I took her hand and shook it. Strong grip. “Nice to meet you, Rae. Wynter Evans. I’m from a television station in St. Louis, here to do a story on Sanctuary.”

She let go of my hand and nodded. “I heard you were in town.” Her broad smile widened. “You don’t look like much of a threat.”

I laughed. “Thank you. I don’t feel like one.”

“Rae is our town’s veterinarian,” Reuben said. “She not only takes care of our pets, but she also looks out for our horses and livestock.”

“I love animals,” Rae said. “It’s people I’m not too fond of sometimes.”

“I understand,” I said with a smile. “I’m a cat person.”

“What kind of kitty you got?”

“A Persian. Named Mr. Henderson.”

Rae clapped her large hands together. I noticed that they didn’t look completely clean. “After Sally Rogers’s cat in The Dick Van Dyke Show?”

I grinned. “Yes. I love to watch reruns of that old show. Most people don’t make the connection.”

Rae put her head back and guffawed. “Most people aren’t as old as me, honey.” She pointed at Reuben. “You need to get Lazarus in for his booster shot, Mr. Mayor. I expect to see him next week, you hear?”

Reuben smiled at her. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll call and set up a time.”

“Good.” She patted me on the back. “Nice to meet you, honey. Hope you get whatever you need for your story.”

“Me too. Thank you, Rae.”

I watched the large woman lumber away. She stopped and talked to several other people on the street. She seemed to be well-liked by the residents.

“Nice lady,” I said to Reuben as we began walking.

“Not only nice, but a real blessing to this town. Some of our residents are farmers. If they need help before they sell their harvest, Rae carries them. She’s taken care of several animals for free. I’ve never seen her turn away an animal that needed help. We had to use a vet in Barnes before Rae got here almost two years ago. He wasn’t as compassionate as she is.”

“I guess that’s why so many people like small towns. That feeling of family.”

“Yes, it’s why we look out for one another. Rae doesn’t go to church, but she’s still a valued member of this town. People accept her as she is.”

“Sanctuary’s certainly not a big town, but with the many farm animals and pets, how can one woman take care of all of them?”

“She doesn’t. Esther’s friend and neighbor, Janet Dowell, helps out. Janet’s a vet. They both stay pretty busy.”

“Esther mentioned her. Said she’s a close friend.”

“She is. Janet stays to herself, but she and Esther have a special bond.”

The cautious look on his face led me to suspect Janet was one of Sanctuary’s special people. “I take it Janet’s not someone I should interview?”

Reuben frowned. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t approach her.”

“Look, Reuben. I’m certain I can include Sanctuary in our special and protect everyone’s privacy at the same time. We’ll do a little about how the town was founded. Maybe use Martha, since she runs the library and is such a history buff. Then we’ll show some of your businesses, talk to a few people who want to be on camera, and that’s it. No sweeping shots. No group shots. Up close and personal. That should ensure we don’t get the wrong people on film.”

“I think I can round up a few more interviews for you,” he said. “Why don’t you let me take care of that?”

“Sure. Thanks. You know, it would be great if we could get at least one person on camera that is more . . . conservative. I know that might be a problem, but we’re presenting Sanctuary as a Mennonite town.”

“I told you that most of our citizens are Mennonite.”

“I get that. But we’re here because Sanctuary is different. One of the most important reasons you’re special is because of your conservative residents. I would hate to ignore that part of what makes this town unique. Even if we could get someone in the background. Just so we could see how they’re dressed. No faces. We’ll hear them but won’t see them.”

Reuben shook his head slowly. “Maybe.”

I cleared my throat, trying not to look as nervous as I felt. “What about that boy . . . what was his name? Uh, Elijah? Do you think he might be willing to help us?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, if he won’t actually appear on camera. I’ll ask his parents. They’ve been in Sanctuary a long time. Nothing to hide that I know of.” He smiled. “Guess I make it sound like we’re a den of spies. I hope you don’t get the wrong idea.”

I shook my head. “No. After thinking about it, I realize that a lot of people move to small towns because they’re trying to get away from something.” I took a sip of my iced tea and noticed my hand shook slightly. “You said Elijah’s family had been here a long time. Was Elijah born here?”

“No. I’ve been in Sanctuary six years. They’d only been here a couple of years before I came. They used to live in Jamesport, an Amish town. Have you heard of it?”

“Yeah. Our station did a special on the Amish a couple months ago. Because of that, I can’t include them in this piece.”

“Too bad. They would have welcomed you with open arms. They cater heavily to tourists.”

“So the Amish town would welcome us, but the more progressive Mennonite town doesn’t want us here? That’s a little confusing.”

He shrugged. “Different towns have different spirits, Wynter. Sanctuary is a wonderful town full of incredible people. We just—”

I grinned. “I know. Have secrets.”

Reuben laughed. “No matter how you say that, it doesn’t sound right.”

“So the Fishers were Amish?”

He shook his head. “No, they’ve always been Mennonite. There are quite a few Mennonite families in Jamesport.”

“Can you tell me a little bit more about Elijah and his family?”

He rubbed his chin, which sported a day’s worth of stubble. Normally, I liked a clean-shaven face, but for some reason, on Reuben, the unshaven look worked.

“Well, Elijah’s father, Nathan, is a farmer. They have a beautiful farm not far from town. His mother, Anna, is a very sweet woman. They’re leaders in the church.”

“Which church? I noticed two when we came into town.”

Reuben nodded. “That’s right. Sanctuary Mennonite is the more conservative church. That’s where the Fishers attend. The other church is Agape Fellowship. We have Mennonite roots, but it’s much more liberal.”

“How liberal?”

Reuben grinned. “Not that liberal. We’re nondenominational—similar to other mainstream churches, but we haven’t completely shaken off our Mennonite roots. We still believe in simplicity, but only as a choice we make—not as a directive from the church.”

“How do the two churches get along?”

“Great. We support and respect each other. We have dinners and activities together. Sanctuary Mennonite is just a place where our conservative residents feel more comfortable. Some of them were brought up in strict Old Order or Amish homes. Although they’ve moved beyond a lot of the restrictions, they aren’t willing to discard all the traditions they were raised with.” He shrugged. “Frankly, I agree with many of the doctrines they endorse. I just don’t choose to live as starkly as they do.”

“So the Fishers are very involved in the church?”

“Yes. Nathan is an elder.”

“And who is the pastor?”

Someone called out Reuben’s name, and he waved to an elderly man sitting on a bench across the street. “Jacob Troyer is their pastor. And you met the pastor of Agape yesterday.”

I frowned at him.

“Jonathon Wiese.”

“Wow, he seems pretty young to hold a position like that.”

“He’s a little older than he looks, but he’s younger than some, I guess. He went through seminary, so he’s fully qualified. He’s a great pastor.”

“I think it’s wonderful the two churches work together so well. Not sure that happens much in other towns.”

“We all work hard to keep the peace.”

“And then some woman from a television station waltzes in and turns everything upside down?”

“That’s about it.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry. We’ve weathered worse storms than you. You’re only a minor squall.”

“Gee, thanks. No one ever called me that before.”

Reuben laughed. “I’ll call the Fishers and see if they’d be willing to talk to you.”

“That would be great. I’d really like to meet them. Even if they don’t want to be on camera, I’d love to ask them a few questions.”

He shrugged. “We’ll have to see. I wouldn’t get your hopes up though.” His eyebrows suddenly shot up as he looked at something over my shoulder. “Good timing. There’s Elijah. Would you like me to introduce you?”

I tried to stay calm, but turning around and seeing Elijah walk toward us startled me. I tried to say yes, but somehow I choked on the word. All I could do was nod.

Reuben looked at me with concern. “Are you all right? Maybe this isn’t a good time.”

I waved my hand at him. “No, I’m fine.” My voice came out in a whisper. I took a deep breath and nodded. “Really, I’m okay. Just a tickle in my throat.”

“Okay.” He still looked a little alarmed, but he called out Elijah’s name.

I don’t know what I expected. That somehow we’d look at each other, and I’d instantly know the truth. But it didn’t happen that way. As Reuben introduced the young man, I studied him closely. The resemblance to Ryan was startling—but there were differences. Elijah’s hair was darker. Almost black. Ryan’s had been light-brown. Of course, aging could explain that. My father’s hair darkened as he grew older. Elijah’s jaw was stronger. Not unusual for a boy on the verge of becoming a man.

“Elijah, this is Wynter Evans. She works at a television station in St. Louis.”

“Yes, I heard you were here.”

The young man’s voice didn’t ring any bells. Of course, I hadn’t heard my brother speak in nine years, and I couldn’t remember what he sounded like. Besides, his voice would have deepened by now.

“I’m glad to meet you, Elijah.” I searched his face for any sign of recognition. I’d changed since my teenage years, but probably not so much my brother couldn’t make the connection. There was nothing abnormal in Elijah’s reaction. Yet somehow I felt . . . something.

“Wynter is doing a story about Sanctuary,” Reuben said. “She wondered if she might be able to interview you for it. Off camera. She wants to know more about your conservative lifestyle. Would you be willing to do that?”

Elijah was silent for a moment but finally shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll have to check with my parents.”

“Thank you, Elijah,” I said. “Reuben says you’ve lived in Sanctuary about seven or eight years?”

He nodded. “Before that, we lived in Jamesport. My father inherited some farmland outside of town from one of his brothers, so we moved here.”

I cleared my throat, partially because it still felt odd after my choking experience but also because I was nervous. “And how long did you live in Jamesport, Elijah?”

“I was born there.”

If what he said was true, he couldn’t be my brother. When he spoke, I noticed his pupils dilated slightly, and he looked away. I’d read a book once about how to tell if someone was lying. I figured it might come in handy during interviews. Reporters were frequently pulled into fantastic tales by people who just wanted to be on TV. Being able to differentiate between those who were dishonest and those who told the truth was critical. If I believed the signs I’d learned from that book, Elijah Fisher had just lied to me.

“Why don’t you talk to your parents and let Wynter know about the interview?” Reuben said. “If they have any questions, tell them to talk to me. I can assure them you won’t be filmed.” He looked over at me. “You don’t have to use his name either, do you?”

“No. Not if his parents are uncomfortable about it.”

Reuben swung his gaze back to Elijah. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds all right to me, but like I said, my parents will have to make the final decision. I’ll talk to them and let you know.” He nodded at me. “It was very nice to meet you, Miss Evans.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Elijah. I hope to talk to you soon.”

I watched as he walked away. The entire time we talked, he’d seemed nervous and distracted. I hadn’t spent much time around teenage boys. Maybe I was reading too much into his mannerisms.

Or maybe Elijah Fisher had recognized me.