After a few more bites, something occurred to him. "I was in the kitchen when you arrived for work, no?"

"You were."

"Well, then when did you have time to make everything?"

"I made it all at my house this morning." Looking guilty, as if he'd caught her in a fib, she added, "I made the turtle brownies last night, though." She pointed to a covered container that he hadn't even noticed yet.

"So, this is your food? Not the inn's?"

"Well, jah." She looked at their sandwiches with some concern. "Is that okay?"

"Of course it is." He lifted up the remains of his own sandwich. Barely a fourth was left. "I, um, was simply worried about the expense. I hate the idea of you using your own money to pay my way." Thinking of her working late into the night, he added, "And time. I didn't think about you having to spend your evening baking."

"Brownies don't take long. And as for our meal? It is only sandwiches."

He knew she wanted him to leave it alone, but there was something about what she'd done that gave him pause. "Why didn't you use the kitchen's food?"

A line appeared above her brows. "I didn't do that because, um, after I asked Beverly for the day off, I didn't know how to ask about your lunch, too. Besides, I enjoyed making the brownies and sandwiches."

"Now things are starting to make more sense. When I told Beverly last night that I was going to the beach with you today, she seemed surprised. You're not getting paid for today, are you?"

"Of course not. I'm at the beach, Michael."

"But that doesn't seem fair, you carting me to the beach on your own time."

"I told you I wanted to go." Irritation was seeping into her words now.

But the more he learned, the guiltier he felt about taking up her whole day off. "Did you have to cancel some other plans?"

"Not at all."

"Why not?"

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"I think it is." He didn't want to call her a liar, but he was pretty certain that she'd canceled all kinds of things in order to babysit him for the day. He simply wanted her to admit it so they could have it out in the open.

She pursed her lips together. For a moment there, he was genuinely worried that he'd made her so upset she wasn't going to answer. Then she sighed. "I didn't have to cancel anything because I don't really have any friends and my parents are mad at me."

He was stunned. He put the last of his sandwich back on the sheet of waxed paper and gave her his complete attention. "Why?" he asked. "Why don't you have any friends? And why are your parents upset with you?"

"Michael, honestly, this doesn't concern you. Can't we leave it at that?"

Even though he heard the stress in her voice, he shook his head. "Nee, I don't think so." When she practically rolled her eyes, he pushed a little more. "Come on, Penny. You know all about me. You're going to have to help take care of me for the next few days. Don't make me feel like we're completely on uneven ground."

"We are, though."

"Please? I'm not just asking because I'm being nosy. I'm asking because I care."

"It's kind of a long story."

He leaned back on his elbows. "I've got time." But more than that, he was eager to learn more about her. When she wrapped up her half of the sandwich and set it to one side with a resigned expression, he knew he'd won. "What happened to you, Penny?"

She closed her eyes, as if mentally preparing herself for what was to come, then began. "It all started when my sister, Lissy, was kidnapped walking home from school one day."

It took every bit of experience he had to not betray how shocked he was. Instinctively, he knew if he reacted too intensely, she would shut down. "So, what happened to her, then?"

"About everything one might wish to never happen, Michael. After, she was found in a field."

He blinked. He'd seen enough of the world to have a very good idea of what had happened to her sister. But for some odd reason, he wished she'd said the words anyway. Almost as if he was hoping that his darkest imaginings were completely off base.

But he would never ask her to speak of such things.

"So that's how she died," he murmured to himself. He swallowed hard, hoping she didn't notice how much her story was affecting him. She needed him to be her support now.

"Jah." She leaned forward, ran her finger in the sand. "Lissy was . . . She was dead when the police found her."

"I'm so sorry, Penny." He was such an idiot. Here he had been pushing and prodding her to tell him private information about herself, thinking he could use his wealth of experience to ease her pain in some way. But now it was so very obvious that she had much to teach him.

"Danke, but it's okay." Visibly steeling herself, she added, "They did find the man who murdered her. He was arrested and later sent to prison."

"Ah."

"He, uh, died there. Someone murdered him." She took a deep breath. "As you might imagine, it has been a difficult thing living with what happened to my sister. I've often wondered why that man didn't kidnap me." She met his eyes. "I've wondered why the Lord took Lissy so young. Why did He have to make her suffer so?" Lowering her voice, she added, "And why did He decide that nothing should happen to me?"

As she paused for breath, Michael struggled to find the right words to comfort her. But what could he ever offer that would comfort Penny?

She continued. "Lissy's death, um, drew a lot of attention to our community. In the news."

"I can only imagine."

She looked down at her feet, as if it was too hard to face him. "Some reporters acted as if what happened to Lissy was doubly bad because she was Plain." She shrugged. "I don't think that matters though, you know? I mean, it was all bad."

Practically unable to speak, he nodded.

"Anyway, after a time, my parents decided to move here, to Florida. They wanted a fresh start. And, well, Lissy died in the middle of winter. There was something about the cold, gray skies that my mamm, especially, couldn't deal with."

"How old were you when that happened?"

"Twelve."

"Twelve," he repeated. Twelve was far too young to experience such a tragedy.

She nodded. "I, ah, was almost fourteen when we moved here." A few minutes pa.s.sed as she shifted, fussed with the makeshift knot in the hem of her dress. "Anyway, we moved here, but time hasn't really helped my parents all that much. They are angry and bitter and so very sad."

"I imagine lots of people would be that way still."

She nodded. "The way they dealt with their loss was to keep me close. They don't want to lose another daughter, you see."

Now he was beginning to understand her lack of friends. "Even though you might've been perfectly safe, they didn't want you to be out of their sight."

"Not at all." She pressed her lips together before continuing. "At first I felt the same way. Then, when it began to chafe, I tried to understand and give them time. But then something snapped, I guess. I couldn't do what they wanted anymore."

She turned to look at him directly. As if she needed him to understand. "Michael, I knew if I stayed one more day in that house I was never going to leave. My sister may be dead, but I felt like I was dying inside. I told my parents that I was going to go see your family speak in Pinecraft Park. I do know some folks from church and one gal, Violet, had said that she was going to go. So I went."

And that very night, when she'd offered to help him, he'd acted like a jerk. What was wrong with him? "I'm sorry I was so rude to you."

"You weren't rude. You were in pain. And there's no reason for you to apologize."

"Still, I could have been nicer."

"Michael, you were yourself. Believe me, I'm glad you acted like yourself. I'm glad you weren't perfect."

"I was far from that. I am far from that."

She shook her head, chuckling softly. "Don't be so hard on yourself. If you had been perfect, I think I would have been even more nervous the first time we met." She rolled her eyes. "It would have been even more awkward than it was."

"So, you really did just start working at the inn?"

"Jah. On Monday."

"Monday. Miss Beverly needed an extra pair of hands, and here we are. Sitting on the beach." He forced himself to smile, even though so many emotions were running through him, his insides felt raw.

"Jah."

"So I take it your parents aren't happy with you working?"

"Nee. They're punishing me by ignoring me. I was mighty happy I had something to do today."

He gazed at her. Saw her dimples, her freckles. Her dark blond hair, blue eyes. Her general awkwardness. And knew he'd never before felt so unworthy of someone's friendship.

Here he'd gotten into an accident, lost half a limb, and turned that experience into a way to travel the world with his family. And though he believed in the power of the Almighty, he would be lying if he didn't admit to feeling self-righteous at times.

Now he cringed as he recalled some of his speeches, especially some of his first ones, when the pain and fear of being stuck in that ravine was so fresh. He had probably come across as thinking that he was the only person on earth who had ever been in a bad accident. Or who had been alone and frightened while waiting for help to arrive.

Or who had lost part of a limb.

But here was Penny. Losing a sibling was undoubtedly traumatic, but to lose her sister like that? Michael couldn't imagine.

And she'd spent years reliving that experience. Trying to help her parents heal by allowing them to force their will on her. She'd been hurting but she'd kept everything to herself. Never making a big deal about her own issues. In fact, she probably wouldn't have told him anything if he hadn't pressed.

But instead of dwelling on everything that had happened, she'd still opened herself to him and given him so much. Her strength and modesty were awe-inspiring. Yet, she didn't seem to even realize it.

Michael glanced at her, noticing that she was holding herself still and steady. She was alert. Wary.

She was worried about what he might think.

"Penny?"

"Jah?"

"Have you ever talked to anyone about everything? You know, sought help?"

"Like a counselor?"

"Jah. Or a preacher. Or even some close friends?"

She nodded. "I have. Michael, losing my sister was a terrible thing. But I know she's up in heaven. And I know I'll understand why that happened to her when I get there. I've made peace with it. What I haven't been able to do is dare to live my own life. I've been afraid of what might happen. Afraid to cause my parents more worry."

"But you're doing that now."

"Jah. But they aren't happy with me. They don't understand. And I'm old enough now to realize that they may not ever understand."

"But you are going to keep moving forward?"

She nodded. "Well, I'm going to try."

"Penny, I think you are pretty incredible."

She blinked. Then, to his relief, she slowly smiled. "Thanks."

He liked that. He liked that she didn't try to brush off what had happened to her or make it seem like something less than it was. He was glad that not even her shyness and worry would make her discount what had happened.

"You're welcome," he said simply.

She didn't say another word. Instead, her smile became brighter, as if he'd just given her a beautiful gift. Seeing that smile, Michael knew there had never been a better moment in the midst of a better day.

CHAPTER 13.

What a day! Beverly was still reeling from Tricia's announcement this morning about being bullied. And her ears were still stinging from Edward's scathing words. He'd been hurt and angry that Tricia had come to her instead of confiding in her family there.

Not surprisingly, the conversation between Edward and Tricia hadn't gone any more smoothly. Edward felt she should have shared everything that she'd been going through weeks ago. Tricia's belated honesty also hadn't made up for the fact that she'd left Sugarcreek and her family with nothing more than a note. Tears were streaming down Tricia's face when she finally hung up the phone.

"Well, that was awful," Tricia said, wiping her eyes with the side of her hand.

"Indeed it was," Beverly agreed.

"Do you think Daed will ever forgive me?"

"Of course."