Read Online Love Finds You in Sugarcreek, Ohio by Serena B. Miller - Free Book Online

handkerchief around his forehead to keep the sweat from pouring into his eyes. The temperature was mild, but he was working hard, and the sun was bright in the cloudless sky.
    Feeling the autumn sun on his shoulders, using his muscles in this timeless, rhythmic ballet of man and scythe, glancing around from time to time at the rolling, peaceful fields…he felt as though he were sweating out the toxins of the past two thousand miles of road. He was glad for the work, even if all he was getting out of it was a place to sleep and some food. Eli was right. Hard work when one was grieving was, indeed, a gift from God.
    “Boo!”
    He glanced up to see Anna holding a quart of water in a Mason jar and a napkin filled with the sugar cookies he had enjoyed at supper the night before. He smiled, pleased at her thoughtfulness—but her face registered disappointment at his reaction. It took him a second to realize that she had been expecting him to be frightened. Obediently, he slapped a hand against his chest and gasped.
    “Anna! You scared me!”
    She beamed and giggled at the success of her trick.
    “Did you bring that water and cookies for me?”
    She nodded happily.
    He gratefully drank the water and wolfed down the buttery cookies while she watched. “Thanks, Anna.” He handed the jar and napkin back to her.
    She smiled, clasped them to her chest with both hands, and plodded back to the house. He reminded himself to act frightened the next time she tried to scare him.
    He finished the work on all the fencerows then went back into the barn and carefully oiled the scythe and hung it on its nail. He felt strangely at peace for someone who was, at the moment, broke and homeless.
    Work, Eli said. Work was healing.
    He was not unaccustomed to hard work. He had built a career out of nothing but raw talent and dogged determination. He knew what it was like to strain every muscle. But it was a different feeling to be quite literally earning his “daily” bread. He had found himself repeating that phrase of the Lord’s Prayer with each swing of his scythe.
    It was the line about “forgiving those who trespass against us” that gave him pause. He wasn’t ready for that one yet. Probably never would be.
    That reminded him—with Bobby occupied and out of earshot—this would be a good time to check with the private detective he had hired. Assuming, of course, he would even have cell phone service out here.
    He pulled the phone out of his pocket and checked. Three bars. Service to spare.
    He dialed a number, and a gruff voice answered. “Grant here.”
    Joe pressed the phone closer to his ear. “Do you have any news for me?”
    “Yeah. There’s a lot of people hunting for you.”
    “I’m aware of that. Anything else?”
    “Not much. The police seem to be preoccupied with figuring out how you managed to kill your wife while signing autographs a hundred miles away.”
    “The police never told me I was a suspect.”
    “That’s because they don’t have a case against you—but some of them would be thrilled if they did. It would tie things up neatly, and it would make the media so happy.”
    Joe’s legs felt weak. For a few hours he had escaped this nightmare. Now it came crashing back. “I didn’t kill my wife.”
    “You know that, and I know that, but the public wants a story and a quick resolution. They want it wrapped up and served to them with a big ribbon on the eleven o’clock news…and the powers-that-be want to give it to them.”
    Joe rubbed a hand over his face. “What should I do?”
    “Keep doing what you’re doing—whatever that is. So far it’s working. The media haven’t found you yet, have they?”
    “No.”
    “I don’t want to know where you are, but you and Bobby are okay, right?”
    “We’ve found a safe place—for now.” Joe bent over and plucked at a stray piece of hay. “Henrietta is still making those payments I promised you, isn’t she?”
    There was a pause.
    Joe crushed the piece