Sometimes the past is best left buried

Meredith King longs for escape. Life in Deer Run is stifling, the Amish town too small for a modern woman staying just to care for her ailing mother. When a friend enlists her help in clearing the name of an Amish boy whose decades-old death is still shrouded in mystery, she welcomes the distraction. But when a ghost from her own past reappears, there is suddenly a lot more at stake.

Zach Randal was always a bad boy, and their romance never had a chance. As charming as ever, he returns to town on the heels of a deadly new threat. Is Zach as dangerous as Meredith was always led to believe? Or is the attraction they both feel the only thing that can save them from harm?

Praise for Marta Perry

“Perry’s story hooks you immediately. Her uncanny ability to seamlessly blend the mystery element with contemporary themes makes this one intriguing read.”

—RT Book Reviews on Home by Dark

“Perry skillfully continues her chilling, deceptively charming romantic suspense series with a dark, puzzling mystery that features a sweet romance and a nice sprinkling of Amish culture.”

—Library Journal on Vanish in Plain Sight

“Marta Perry illuminates the differences between the Amish community and the larger society with an obvious care and respect for ways and beliefs…. She weaves these differences into the story with a deft hand, drawing the reader into a suspenseful, continually moving plot.”

—Fresh Fiction on Murder in Plain Sight

“Leah’s Choice, by Marta Perry, is a knowing and careful look into Amish culture and faith. A truly enjoyable reading experience.”

—Angela Hunt, New York Times bestselling author of Let Darkness Come

“Leah’s Choice is a story of grace and servitude as well as a story of difficult choices and heartbreaking realities. It touched my heart. I think the world of Amish fiction has found a new champion.”

—Lenora Worth, author of Code of Honor

“Marta Perry delivers a strong story of tension, fear and trepidation. Season of Secrets (4.5 stars) is an excellent mystery that’s certain to keep you in constant suspense. While love is a powerful entity in this story, danger is never too far behind.”

—RT Book Reviews, Top Pick

Search the Dark

Marta Perry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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This story is dedicated to my granddaughter,

Greta Nicole. And, as always, to Brian, with much love.

Dear Reader,

I hope you’ll enjoy this second book in my latest Amish suspense series. I certainly enjoyed revisiting my fictional community of Deer Run. If you happen to visit my area of north-central Pennsylvania, you’ll find many small towns that look very much like Deer Run, nestled in the valleys with the wooded ridges rising above them.

The Amish practice of marrying within their religion is very strong, and parents hope their children will find love within the Amish community, since marrying an Englisch person often results in the child leaving the faith. The strong feelings aroused on both sides seldom lead to murder, however, except in suspense fiction!

Please let me know how you felt about my story. I’d be happy to send you a signed bookmark and my brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes. You can email me at marta@martaperry.com, visit me at www.facebook.com/martaperrybooks or at www.martaperry.com, or write to me at Harlequin HQN, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

Blessings,

Marta Perry

Trickles tend to become streams,

and streams become torrents.

—Amish proverb

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

PROLOGUE

A THIN SHAFT of moonlight penetrated the shadows under the trees, turning the surface of the pond to silver. Strange, that the place should look so serene. No one knew; no one even imagined that murder happened here.

A shadow stirred within the densest shadows. Foolish to come here, but on sleepless nights the lure was too great. Stand here for a few moments, that was all that was needed. Remember.

It was safe enough. No one knew, no one watched. The darkness hid everything, just as it had hidden what had been done here twenty years ago.

Accident, they’d all said. Deer Run locals knew how dangerous the dam was where the stream emptied into the pond below. Only a few feet high, but in times of heavy rain the dam could produce a current as strong as any riptide.

The boy had been careless, people had said. An Amish kid, maybe drinking, maybe showing off, trapped by the dangerous water and drowned. The Englisch spoke of putting up a fence; the Amish said it was God’s will. Tragic, but understandable.

The secret lay forgotten for twenty years, until those two stupid women had come together again. They’d been children when Aaron Mast died, but they’d loved him. They talked, they wondered, they asked questions.

Well, for all their questioning, what they’d found was a good enough reason to call Aaron’s death a suicide. Tragic, wasn’t it? The village had buzzed about it again for weeks, but now even the talk slipped away like a leaf on the current.

No one thought of murder. No one would. But if the unthinkable happened... Well, there might have to be another death at Parson’s Dam.

The shadow stirred, stepping toward the water for an instant, and then slid back into the darkness and melted away in the night.

CHAPTER ONE

“YOU ARE THE only one who can find the truth, Meredith. You must do it.”

Meredith King stared in dismay across the small café table at her cousin Sarah. With her hair drawn tightly back under her kapp and her simple Amish dress, Sarah seemed an unlikely person to be urging her cousin to investigate a death that had occurred twenty years ago. But worry had driven lines around Sarah’s normally placid blue eyes, and she reached one hand across the table in pleading.

“I’m not sure what I can do.” That came out sounding much less definite than Meredith had hoped. “Aaron drowned twenty years ago. There’s probably nothing left to learn.”

And a small-town accountant shouldn’t be anyone’s idea of a crusader. Her weekly coffee klatch with her Amish cousin had turned in a direction Meredith had never anticipated.

“But it was your looking into what happened that summer that brought about this talk of Aaron killing himself. Yours and Rachel’s,” Sarah added. “You’ve already found out so much—surely you can discover the rest of it.”

Meredith couldn’t argue that she’d resurrected the talk about Aaron Mast’s death, no matter how she might want to. When her childhood friend, Rachel Weaver Mason, had come back to Deer Run several months earlier, they’d started reminiscing about the events of that summer when they’d been ten and had shared a childish crush on the Amish teenager.

Aaron had been the hero of the imaginary world they’d created that summer. But the world had come crashing down when Aaron died in the pond below Parson’s Dam. What started as harmless wondering about the events of that summer had also ended in uncovering the probability that Aaron had committed suicide.

“I’m sorry we ever started poking into it,” Meredith said, guilt settling across her shoulders like a heavy blanket. “We certainly didn’t intend to cause grief to his family.”

“Please, Meredith. I can’t go asking questions among the Englisch, but you can.” Sarah gestured to her Amish dress as if in explanation.

True enough. An action that would be unthinkable for an Amish matron was possible for Meredith.

“Besides, you know as much as anybody about that summer, following Aaron around like you did.” Sarah must have sensed her hesitation and pressed on. “I know you were just a girl, but you didn’t forget our Aaron, ain’t so?” The possessive way Sarah spoke suggested that Aaron had meant something special to her.

“Aaron was a friend of yours, then?” She should have realized that Sarah, ten years older than Meredith, would have been about Aaron’s age.

“Friend, ja.” Sarah’s gaze seemed to lose focus, as if she looked into the past. “More than friends, once.” She shook her head, becoming again the mature Amish wife and mother. “But this talk of suicide hurts so many people. The Aaron I knew would not do such a thing.”

“Sometimes we don’t know others as well as we think.” For example, she’d never guessed that there had been any love in Sarah’s life other than her husband, Jonah. “Even if I can think of a way to find out more, you might not be happy with the result.”

“If Aaron really did this thing, I will bear it.” Sarah’s voice was firm. “We all will. But we must know for certain sure.”

Meredith was silent for a moment, trying to find a way to refuse. She didn’t want to bring still more heartache to people who’d already suffered so much.

But Sarah was the closest link she had to her father and the Amish side of her family. For their sake, she couldn’t refuse to do as Sarah asked, could she?

“I’ll try,” she said at last. “I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll try.”

“Denke, Meredith.” Tears shone in Sarah’s blue eyes as she clasped Meredith’s hand. “Da Herr sie mit du.”

The Lord be with you. She’d certainly need the help if she were to solve a twenty-year-old mystery.

“Meredith?” Anna Miller called from behind the counter of the combination grocery store/tourist stop/coffee shop that had served the village of Deer Run as long as Meredith could remember. “Your mother has called, saying why are you so late and don’t forget the goat’s milk she wants. I have it ready for you.”

“Thanks, Anna.” She stood, wishing she could stay long enough to wipe the worry from Sarah’s face, but knowing her mother was perfectly capable of calling every five minutes until Meredith showed up. That was why she’d muted the ringer on her phone.

“I’d better go.” She touched Sarah’s shoulder lightly as her cousin stood, gathering her purchases. “Give my love to Jonah and the children.”

Sarah nodded. “I would say the same to your mamm, but I think it would not be wilkom, ja?” She gave a wry smile and turned toward the grocery section of the shop.

Since everyone in the valley knew of Margo King’s antipathy to her late husband’s Amish kin, there was little point in pretending it was otherwise. So Meredith just nodded and went to the counter to pick up the quart of goat’s milk Anna had ready.

“Thanks, Anna.”

“It makes no trouble,” Anna said, although it had to be a bit of a chore to make a separate trip just to pick up the milk, especially when, like Anna, one drove a horse and buggy to do so.

“Well, I appreciate it.” She handed over the money.

“You’re a gut daughter,” Anna said as Meredith turned toward the door. “Ain’t so, Jeannette?” She appealed to the woman who’d just entered the shop.

Jeannette Walker’s smile, as always, seemed to curdle a bit when she turned it on Meredith. “I’m sure she must be.” Since Jeannette’s bed-and-breakfast, the Willows, stood directly across the street from Meredith’s house, she no doubt thought she had ample opportunity to judge.

“It’s nice to see you, Jeannette.” Meredith gave the expected greeting and attempted to reach the door, but Jeannette stood in her path, and she seemed in no hurry to move.

“Don’t rush off yet,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you my news.” Jeannette patted the tightly permed curls that made her look older than the fortysomething she probably was.

Funny, the difference between her and Sarah even though they were probably about the same age. Sarah, with no makeup, plain dress and her hair pulled back from a center part under her white kapp, still looked younger than Jeannette.

“Is something new in the bed-and-breakfast business?” she asked, even though she wasn’t exactly panting to know.

“You might say that.” Jeannette’s gaze sharpened on Meredith’s face. “I have a guest coming in today. An old friend of yours, I think.”

“Really?” It seemed unlikely that one of her friends was coming to stay at the Willows, but she supposed stranger things had happened. “Who is it?”

“Well, you’re just not going to believe it when I tell you.” The faint look of triumph on Jeannette’s face made Meredith vaguely uncomfortable. “I’m sure he was once a special friend of yours.”

Meredith’s fingers tightened around the milk bottle, and somehow she already knew whose name was coming out of Jeannette’s mouth.

“Zachary Randal.” Jeannette proclaimed the name loudly enough that everyone in Miller’s Shop could hear it. “Now, tell me I’m not wrong. You two were an item once upon a time, weren’t you?”

The smile on Meredith’s face was probably frozen, but it had nothing on the icy hand that gripped her heart at the name. Zach Randal, returning to Deer Run after thirteen years? Surely not. He’d made it plain enough when he’d stormed away from her that he would never come back.

“Zach Randal?” Anna joined the conversation, diverting Jeannette’s focus, thank goodness. “Well, that is interesting news. It’ll be nice to see how that boy turned out after all these years.”

Jeannette’s expression suggested she smelled something nasty. “Not very well, I’m sure. If anyone had asked me, I’d have said he’d be in prison by this time.”

Meredith discovered she was still capable of being roused to anger on Zach’s behalf. “If that’s so, why did you rent a room to him?”

Jeannette shrugged, spreading her hands wide. “I run a business, after all. What can I do? But I’m surprised you didn’t suggest he stay at your friend Rachel’s little inn.”

Rachel ran Mason House, a thriving new B and B that was giving the Willows a run for its money. But never mind the barb—Jeannette was fishing for a response. She was probably torn between wanting to be the only person who knew of Zach’s imminent arrival and her desire to find out if Meredith was still in touch with him.

The thought of exposing her feelings in public kept Meredith’s spine straight and her face composed. “There’s no reason for Zach to contact me about his plans.”

“So sad.” Jeannette shook her head as if in sympathy, but her gaze was that of a robin with its eyes on a succulent worm. “When you were once so very close.”

“Just casual friends,” she said, knowing full well that everyone in the store probably saw that for the lie it was. Knowing, too, that she couldn’t keep this front up much longer. “Excuse me. I must get home.”

She brushed past Jeannette and hurried out the door, trying not to look as if she were running away.

She didn’t run away. She’d never been able to. Running away was what Zach had done. She had just provided the reason.

* * *

ZACH HAD EXPECTED he’d have some time to adjust to being back in Deer Run before his inevitable first sight of Meredith King. He’d been wrong. As he pulled up in front of the Willows, Meredith was letting herself in the gate to her front yard, right across the street.

He could have stayed at a big, anonymous motel out on the interstate, but conducting this business had become a matter of pride to him. If he had to come back to Deer Run, he’d come, and nobody here could intimidate him again.

Including Meredith. He slammed the car door, making her face turn toward him, and started across the road. Sauntering, not hurrying. He’d greet her like any nearly forgotten acquaintance he hadn’t seen in years. He’d show both her and himself that nothing remained of their long-vanished love.

That was easier said than done, given the fact that just the sight of her made him feel as if he’d been rammed full-on by a semi.

He came to a halt a few feet from her. Meredith stood still, just looking at him, her hand arrested with the gate half-open.

“Meredith.” Luckily his voice came out as cool as he’d hoped. Undercover work had honed his acting skills. “It’s been a long time.”

He might have hoped to find that his first love had turned into a frazzled housewife carrying an extra twenty pounds and with a whining toddler in tow. She hadn’t. If Meredith had added any weight since she was seventeen, it had certainly gone to the right places. The lovely girl she’d been had turned into a beautiful woman.

“Thirteen years,” she said. She seemed to realize that she was gripping the gate tightly, and she let it swing closed, creating a barrier between them. “How are you, Zach?”

“Doing fine.” He probably resembled the drug dealer he’d been posing as, with his tight, well-worn jeans, hair over his collar and stubble on his jaw. Fine. Let Deer Run think ill of him. It always had.

Meredith, on the other hand, looked like a polished professional woman with her shining brown hair worn in a sleek, just-below-the-chin cut, neat slacks and a soft coral sweater, with a touch of gold at ears and wrist.

Not on her hands, though. He’d seen that bare ring finger first thing.

“I just learned from Jeannette that you were coming.” Those big brown doe eyes focused on his face. “I was surprised.”

He managed a short laugh. “I’d say appalled was closer to the truth, right?” That came out sounding more bitter than he’d intended.

“Just surprised. Because I remember hearing you swear that Deer Run had seen the last of you.” Those full lips might have trembled for an instant on the words.

“We talk a lot of nonsense when we’re seventeen, right?” Things like I love you. I’ll always love you. He shrugged. “It was time I dealt with the property I own here. Had a few vacation days coming, so I figured I’d clear things up.”

“I see.” She glanced away, as if at a loss for something else to say.

He could remember when it seemed they’d never run out of things to say to each other. They’d walk around town in the summer twilight, sharing secrets and dreams as if they were two parts of a whole.

Meredith seemed to regain her poise after the momentary lapse. “I guess this visit won’t be much of a vacation from work for you. What are you doing now?”

He raised an eyebrow, wondering how she’d react. “Police. Detective Zachary Randal, Pittsburgh P.D., believe it or not. I imagine most people in Deer Run expected me to end up on the other side of the bars.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” A faint flush touched her cheekbones, denying the words.

“Come on, Meredith.” He put his hand on the gate, dangerously close to hers. “We both know what this town thinks of me.”

“Deer Run has changed,” she protested.

He took an obvious look down the street at the same lineup of century-old Victorian houses and small shops. A few cars were parked in front of the grocery store, an Amish horse and buggy was hitched at the side of the hardware store. The village snoozed under the shelter of the mountain ridge that seemed to cut it off from the rest of the world.

“Really? Looks the same to me.” He raised an eyebrow and had the satisfaction of seeing a spark of anger in those brown eyes.

“You shouldn’t judge what you don’t know.” Her chin came up, reminding him of the sensitive good girl who’d still had the courage to date the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks.

The front door of the house rattled, and a high, sweet voice called out, “Meredith? Come inside, please. I need you.”

The door closed again. Apparently Margo King had her daughter so well trained that she didn’t need to call twice.

Meredith half turned away from the gate. “I’m sorry. I have to go in.”

“Yeah. Right.” Bitterness welled up, raw in his throat. “I see one thing hasn’t changed at all.”

Before she could answer he turned and walked away, his fists clenching as he tried to stamp down feelings he’d been sure had died a long time ago.

* * *

ANGER WAS MEREDITH’S only shield against pain, and she clung to it as she hurried into the house. If all Zach had to offer her was bitterness, so be it. He might at least have given her a chance to explain.

The thought drew her up sharply. What was there to explain? She’d said she loved him, but she hadn’t had the courage to go against her family, her mother’s imagined social status or the opinion of Deer Run to prove it. Zach knew that as well as she did. Their love was long since dead and buried, and it might have the decency to stay in its grave.

“What on earth were you doing, talking to that boy? Standing there at the front gate where everyone in town could see you—Meredith King, you should have better sense.” Her mother waited in the entryway, shaking with anger from the top of her carefully tinted hair to the tips of her neat leather loafers. “I can’t imagine how he has the nerve to show his face in Deer Run again. What’s he doing here, anyway?”

Meredith sucked in a deep breath and prayed for calm. “I’m not sure, Mother. I believe he has some business to take care of.” She kept walking, heading for the kitchen. “I’d better put the goat’s milk in the fridge.”

It was too much to hope that her mother wouldn’t follow her. “What kind of business? If he’s come back here to moon after you again, he might as well go back where he came from.”

“Don’t be silly.” That came out too sharply. “You know all that was over a long time ago.”

“You shouldn’t have talked to him at all.” Her mother sank onto a kitchen chair, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “It gives me one of my headaches just to think about Zach Randal, right at my front gate, looking like some kind of a hoodlum.”

Zach had looked a bit rough around the edges, hadn’t he? That had always been part of the allure, Meredith supposed. It was classic, a good girl like Meredith King falling hard for the boy who was bad to the bone, or so people said. And Zach, with his disdain for small-town attitudes, had seemed to enjoy shocking the denizens of Deer Run. If he wasn’t cutting school, he was sauntering in late. And he’d been quick with his fists at the slightest opportunity.

“I understand he’s a police officer now,” she said, opening the refrigerator door to shield her face while hoping to head off some of the inevitable speculation.

“I suppose he told you so, and you believed him. Just like you always did.” Her mother’s voice went up an octave, and she stopped massaging her temples to clutch at her chest—never a good sign. “You believed him no matter what we said, causing your poor father so much grief.”

Tears spurted from her mother’s soft brown eyes, and her words came in little gasps. She was working herself into a state of hysteria, and if Meredith didn’t intercede, she’d end up with a frantic call to the doctor, insisting she was having a heart attack.

“Now, Mother, that’s all in the past. There’s nothing to worry about anymore. Zach is only here for a few days, and then he’ll be gone and we’ll never see him again.” Her heart seemed to lodge a protest at that, but she kept going. “I’m sorry his return upset you, but it doesn’t need to. Why don’t you come upstairs and have a nice rest before supper?”

Still soothing, Meredith led her mother gently to the stairs. They’d played this scene so often she knew it by heart. First it had been Daddy doing the soothing and comforting, and now it was Meredith’s job.

Keeping her voice calm, her touch gentle, she guided her mother up to her bedroom, pulled the shades, tucked her under the coverlet. Experience had taught her that it was useless to try and reason with her mother—she was no more amenable to reason than the average two-year-old. And too much emotion led inevitably to the racing heartbeat that frightened her mother as much as it did Meredith.

According to the doctors, her mother’s atrial fibrillation was not nearly bad enough or frequent enough to require anything other than the mild medication she was on. Their assurances had never comforted her mother.

Finally, after repeated promises that Margo would never be subjected to the sight of Zach Randal again, Meredith was able to get away. An easy promise to make, wasn’t it? It was hardly likely that Zach would care to confront Margo King after what she had done to him.

Meredith had barely reached the kitchen when she heard a tapping on the back door. Through the window she spotted Rachel, who’d probably cut across the back lawn between their houses in the shortcut they’d developed in the past few months. The elderly Amish seamstress whose small house sat between the two didn’t mind their frequent trespassing.

Meredith opened the door with a sense of relief. Here was someone she could confide in without the need to protect her feelings.

Rachel came in, handing her a package as she did so. “This was on your back porch.”

Meredith glanced at the label as she led the way into the kitchen and sighed. “It looks as if Mother has been watching the Shopping Channel again. I can’t seem to convince her that we can’t afford every little thing that appeals to her.” She’d have to have another of her futile talks with her mother.

Rachel nodded in sympathy. She knew all about getting by on a small income, since she was supporting herself and her young daughter by turning her former mother-in-law’s house into a bed-and-breakfast. “She still doesn’t understand that her investments aren’t paying off the way they used to?”

“Understand? She won’t even listen. Says it gives her a headache.”

Meredith put the kettle on the stove with a little unnecessary force. Rachel was the only person in whom she confided, and Rachel was safe. Their childhood friendship had blossomed into a solid relationship since Rachel moved back to Deer Run.

“How is she taking Zach Randal’s return?” Rachel lowered her voice, as if Margo King might be lurking around the corner.

“It’s okay to talk. She’s taking a nap.” Meredith set two mugs on the counter. The late-September day was cool enough to switch from iced tea to hot tea for their afternoon break. “So the rumor mill is turning already, is it?”

“I’m afraid so.” Rachel hesitated, her usual gentle expression concerned. “If you don’t want to talk about it...”

“I’d rather talk to you than anyone. I just can’t believe Zach has come back. I never expected to see him again after what my mother did.”

“Your mother?”

“You didn’t know? I guess you might not have.” Rachel had still been Amish then, and their childhood friendship had faded by that time. Amish teenage girls were helping their mothers or preparing for marriage at a time when Englisch girls were engrossed in cheerleading and the latest hairstyles.

The kettle shrieked, a suitable sound for the way Meredith felt. She poured water over the tea bags.

“My parents didn’t want me involved with Zach, as you can imagine. He was the rebel, constantly in trouble with everyone.”

She had to smile. It had been such a classic story—like Grease without the music. Or maybe more like West Side Story, even though no one died.

“When we started getting too serious, my mother came up with a simple plan to get rid of him. I had let him into the house when she wasn’t there, and she claimed money was missing from her desk drawer. She said Zach had taken it, and she threatened to prosecute if he didn’t go away and leave me alone.” The words were as dry as dust in her mouth. “He was ready to leave Deer Run behind, anyway, I suppose. He wanted me to go with him. I said no.” She set the mugs on the table with a clunk and sank into her chair.

Rachel studied her face for a moment. “Did you love him?”

A fair question, wasn’t it? In a similar situation, Rachel had run off to marry Ronnie Mason, to the dismay of both their families. It hadn’t turned out well, but at least Rachel had her little Mandy by way of compensation.

“I thought I did.” Meredith shook her head. No point in evading the truth. “Yes, I loved him. I just didn’t have the courage to go with him.”

“Maybe you did the best thing.” Rachel’s voice was gentle.

“I doubt that Zach saw it that way. He ended up branded a thief because of me.” She sucked in a breath. “Now he’s back, and he’s...” She hesitated, trying to find the word to express what she’d sensed from him. “...bitter, I guess. I can’t blame him. I just wish I knew what to say to him.”

“Maybe you need to tell him how sorry you are. For your sake, if not for his.” Rachel had a way of going to the emotional heart of the matter.

“I’m not sure he’d want to hear it.” She saw again the dark intensity of his gaze.

“If he’s not willing to forgive you, then that’s his right.” Rachel still had a typically Amish attitude toward right and wrong. “But you’ll have cleared the slate, and you can move on.”

Meredith stared down into the amber liquid in her cup, as if she’d see an answer in its depths. “Suppose...suppose I find I don’t want to move on. What if I still have feelings for him?”

Rachel didn’t speak for a moment. “Either way, isn’t it better to know the truth?”

The truth. The words were an echo of what Sarah had said to her earlier. Life seemed easier, somehow, if you could settle for a polite fiction that glossed over the difficult facts. But some people would only be satisfied by the truth, and she had an uncomfortable feeling that she might be one of them.

Rachel leaned back, sipping her tea, ready to talk or listen or forget, whatever Meredith needed. A wave of gratitude went through her. Maybe that was really the definition of a friend... Someone who could hear all the bad stuff, empathize and then let it slip away.

She took a gulp of her tea, letting the hot liquid dissolve the lump that had formed in her throat.

“I met with my cousin Sarah this afternoon,” she said, abruptly changing the subject. “Apparently rumors are going around that Aaron Mast killed himself.”

Rachel’s clear blue eyes clouded. “Oh, no. We tried to be so careful not to let anyone know what we’d found.”

“I’m beginning to think there’s no such thing as a secret in Deer Run,” Meredith said. “Sarah’s so upset about it. And Aaron’s parents, as well. She asked me to find out if it’s really true.”

“I can understand how they feel. Suicide goes against everything the Amish believe. But how are we supposed to come up with something new after all this time?”

Meredith appreciated the we. Rachel wouldn’t let her deal with the problem alone. “At this point, I don’t have a single idea. But I’d like to go through the scrapbook we kept that summer again. Would you mind if I picked it up?”

She, Rachel and their friend Lainey Colton had kept a scrapbook of their imaginary world that summer, filled with their observations and the illustrations Lainey had drawn. Meredith had already been through it several dozen times, but perhaps there was something she’d missed.

“I’ll drop it off for you,” Rachel said, still looking concerned. She glanced at her watch. “I didn’t realize how late it was getting. I hate to cut this short, but I told Mamm to send Mandy home at four-thirty.”

“No problem. At the moment, I don’t have any idea of how to do what Sarah wants.” She rose, putting the mugs in the sink.

“Maybe if we both think about it, we’ll come up with something.” Rachel touched her arm in silent sympathy. “As for the other...well, try not to worry too much about Zach. He’s not a boy any longer. He’s responsible for his own happiness.”

Or unhappiness, Meredith added silently. Still, Zach hadn’t seemed unhappy. Just bitter.

“Say hi to Mandy and your folks for me.” Meredith walked with her to the back porch. The breach between Rachel and her family over her leaving the Amish faith had healed, and Rachel considered herself fortunate to live only a stone’s throw from her parents’ farm on the far side of the covered bridge over the creek.

Meredith stood for a moment on the back stoop, watching as Rachel cut across the intervening backyard. All of the backyards on this side of the road ended at the creek, which formed a boundary between the village on this side and the Amish farms on the other. Meredith kept her backyard mowed to just beyond the garage, as her father always had. A little farther on, a tangled border of raspberry bushes spanned the space to the trees that crowded along the creek banks.

If she went down the path behind the garage, it would lead her to the small dam that emptied into a wide, inviting pool. The pool where Aaron Mast died.

A breeze touched her and set the branches moving, a few leaves detaching themselves to flutter to the ground. The sun was just beginning to slip behind the mountain, but the shadows already lay deep under the trees around the pond.

She rubbed her arms, unaccountably chilled. She hadn’t liked going to the dam since that summer. It had figured in too many bad dreams.

She didn’t believe it was haunted by ghosts. That was nonsense. But it certainly was haunted by memories.

CHAPTER TWO

MARGO SLIPPED AWAY from the kitchen door, her terry-cloth slippers making no sound at all. But she wouldn’t be heard in any event. Meredith had gone out on the back porch with her friend. She’d never know her mother had been out of bed at all.

A lady doesn’t eavesdrop. It wasn’t polite. But what was she to do when her own daughter kept secrets from her?

Margo’s anger flickered as she made her way up the stairs, her hand on the railing for support. Really, Meredith should have better sense, but it certainly wasn’t her fault. No one could say that Margo hadn’t done her best to raise her only daughter properly.

It was a mother’s duty to protect her child, even when that child was an unmarried woman of thirty. She winced, Meredith’s age reminding her uncomfortably of just how old she was. Still, her friends assured her she didn’t look a day over fifty.

Margo padded into her bedroom, sending a satisfied glance at her image in the mirror. Like a Dresden doll, her father had said of her the evening she’d gone to her first dance. Certainly the boys had agreed. She’d had her pick of boyfriends. If only she hadn’t imagined herself in love with John King....

She fluffed up her pillows and settled back against them, frowning a little. The issue now was Meredith, and how she could be protected from her weakness where Zachary Randal was concerned.

Good riddance to bad rubbish—that was what people had said when he’d left town all those years ago. Margo had bathed in a glow of righteousness for weeks over her role in making his departure come about. Zach had left, and Meredith had been protected from him. Goodness only knew what might have happened if Margo hadn’t intervened when she did.

She’d been so sure the incident was closed after all these years. Who could have imagined that Randal boy would dare to show his face in Deer Run again?

Her breath came too quickly, and Margo forced herself to relax. She mustn’t upset herself or she’d bring on one of her attacks, and then she wouldn’t be able to do anything to save Meredith from herself.

Meredith was still in danger of succumbing to Randal’s dubious attractions. Margo didn’t doubt that for a minute. There was simply something about one’s first love that blinded one.

She glanced at the silver-framed photo of John that stood on the bedside table. John hadn’t liked having it taken—some silly hangover from his Amish upbringing. But she’d had no patience with that foolishness and had insisted.

Enough of thinking about the past. She had to decide what to do now. Meredith and Rachel had brought up two distasteful matters in their private little chat.

Why were they so fascinated with Aaron Mast’s death? It had been an accident, pure and simple. Everyone knew that. As for Sarah asking Meredith to look into it—well, that was just ridiculous, and no more than one could expect from her husband’s relatives.

Meredith couldn’t possibly know anything about what happened the night Aaron drowned in the pond. She hadn’t even been at home. She’d spent the night with another of John’s numerous cousins, at his insistence. If Margo had had her way, Meredith would have had no communication with those people. But John, usually so compliant and eager to please her, had stood firm on that subject.

Margo sifted through memories. Odd, how some incidents formed landmarks in a person’s mind. She remembered that night clearly because of what had happened early the next morning. She’d gone downstairs to find Bill Kramer, his fishing rod still dangling from his hand, pounding on the back door and insisting on using the telephone because someone was dead in the pond.

Margo pulled the silky comforter up to her chin. The accident had probably happened in the late evening, people had said. Meredith hadn’t been home, thank goodness. John hadn’t, either. He’d gone back to the harness shop to work on an order.

Margo’s lips tightened at the remembered grievance. All the men in her family had been professionals—doctor, pharmacist, teacher—but John had insisted on opening his harness business right here in Deer Run. Worse, he’d left her alone in the house the evening that boy had drowned.

Still, his callousness had an unexpected benefit now. If anyone in the family knew anything about the Mast boy’s death, she would.

Margo glanced at the window, shielded by the shade Meredith had pulled down. It faced the driveway, down which someone might have walked to reach the creek. People shouldn’t trespass, of course, but they did. And the window would have been open on a summer evening.

Memories began to stir and shift in her mind. Consider how satisfying it would be if Margo was the one who remembered something important about that night. It would certainly show Meredith she wasn’t the only smart one in the family.

Margo leaned back against the pillows, indulging in a rosy daydream. Of herself, the heroine of the hour, graciously telling her story to a chosen few. Of Meredith, looking on admiringly.

As long as she was dreaming, she might just as well dream of a means of getting rid of Zach Randal again, this time for good.

* * *

ZACH ARRIVED RIGHT ON TIME for his meeting with the attorney the next day. Evans and Son. The gilt letters on the window of the office weren’t exactly a surprise. Jake Evans had been slotted to go into his father’s law firm from the day he was born, he’d bet.

Zach paused for a second, his hand on the doorknob, remembering. Jake had been in his class in school, so they were about the same age. There the similarity between them ended.

Jake had been one of the “in” crowd, the people who lived in the big old houses along Maple Street and Main Street, the ones whose fathers had worn coats and ties to work every day, who never had to wonder if there’d be food in the house.

The “in” crowd hadn’t had much time for somebody like Zach Randal in those days. He didn’t figure much had changed in that respect, not in Deer Run. He swung the door open and went into the outer office with a determined step.

The middle-aged receptionist didn’t look familiar, but she eyed him as if his reputation had preceded him. Either that or he didn’t look as good as he’d thought he did after a night’s sleep and a shower and shave.

“Mr. Randal? One moment please. I’ll let Mr. Evans know you’re here.”

Her finger moved to a button on her desk, but before she could push it, one of the two doors behind her desk swung open. Jake Evans stood there, giving him a quick, assessing glance before his face eased into a smile.

“Zach, come on in. It’s been a long time. Good to see you.”

Zach allowed himself to be ushered into the inner office, where the latest thing in computers seemed to argue with a heavy oak desk that would fit more readily with a fountain pen and legal pad. Zach swept the room with a comprehensive glance, accustomed to sizing up his surroundings swiftly.

The office was clearly a study in contrasts, with the taste of the elder Evans jockeying for control with that of his son. A small basketball hoop was attached to a black enamel wastepaper basket, and a Phillies ball cap sat rakishly atop a crystal vase on the corner of the bookshelves.

Jake waved him to a chair and folded his lanky, still-athletic frame into the black leather one behind the desk. He moved like the basketball star he’d been in high school.

“Is Jeannette Walker making you comfortable at the Willows?” Jake leaned back and seemed to restrain himself from propping his foot on the wastebasket.

“The place isn’t bad.” He couldn’t blame the setting for Jeannette’s blatant curiosity.

Just like all of Deer Run and everyone in it. He’d come back because he had to, but given the feelings Meredith had stirred up by a single conversation, he’d be better off to sign whatever papers Jake had for him, get rid of the house and head back to his real life.

Jake twirled a pen between his fingers, seeming in no hurry to get down to business. “What do you think of Deer Run? Does it look different to you after being away so long?”

“No.” Zach said the word flatly. “Look, let’s just take care of things so I can get out of here. You didn’t have time for me in high school, and I don’t see any point in making small talk now.”

Jake was immobile for an instant, and then one eyebrow edged its way upward. “I hope I’ve grown up a little since high school,” he said, apparently not taking offense. His grin flickered. “Not that my father would agree with that. He still looks at me and sees the kid who embarrassed him by asking both the Hamilton twins to the senior prom.” He glanced toward the wall beyond which, Zach assumed, lay the senior Mr. Evans’s office.

“That must have caused quite a stir.” He remembered the Hamilton twins—identical daughters of the then mayor. But he didn’t remember the prom. “Afraid I was gone by then.”

“Right.” Jake’s gaze slid away from his, as if he was embarrassed he’d mentioned the prom. He shuffled through a file folder on the desk. “Well, to business.”

Zach nodded, the movement curt. He didn’t want any side excursions into high school memories. He had intended to take Meredith to their senior prom, going so far as to sell his beat-up old car in order to have enough money to do it right. But fate, in the shape of Margo King, had intervened.

“You know that the house went to your stepmother after your father’s death, of course,” Jake said, raising a questioning eyebrow.

He nodded. The only surprising thing was that Wally Randal had hung on to enough money to pay the taxes and keep from losing the place altogether.

“I’m not sure why the property comes to me,” he said. “I’m not related to Ruth.”

Jake shrugged. “I guess she didn’t have any other family. Her will was clear enough. Everything goes to you. Unfortunately, as I mentioned in my letter, the house is badly run-down. If you want to sell—”

“Definitely,” Zach interrupted him. “As soon as possible. Can you refer me to a real estate agent?”

Jake frowned, his frank, open face looking suddenly older. “To tell you the truth, I doubt you could find anyone to take it on. It’s in such bad shape I don’t know how you’re going to find a buyer.”

Zach could only stare at him. He’d ignored the place since he’d heard that he owned it. Now, it seemed, he was going to pay the penalty for that.

“You’re telling me that I own a worthless piece of property, and I won’t be able to get rid of it.” He glared at Jake, who returned the look with interest.

“You’ll recall that I sent you several letters asking you to come back and deal with the place. You didn’t.”

So it was his fault. He’d like to deny it, if he could think of anyone else to blame, but he couldn’t.

“Okay.” Zach blew out a long breath. “Where do I go from here?” If he stopped paying the taxes, the place would eventually go up for sheriff’s sale, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. It would be proof that he was trash, just as the good people of Deer Run had always supposed.

“As I see it, you could either do the minimum amount of repair work to make the place saleable.” There might be a trace of sympathy in Jake’s face. “Or you could have the house demolished and try to sell the lot.”

Either way, his legacy was going to cost him. The old man would be laughing his head off, if he knew about this from wherever he’d ended up.

“You have an opinion about which?” Zach raised an eyebrow.

Jake shook his head. Yes, that was definitely sympathy in his expression. “Sorry. That’s not for me to make a recommendation. If you want the opinion of someone in real estate, you ought to talk to Colin McDonald. You remember him from high school, don’t you?”

Zach nodded. Another one of the “in” crowd. Presumably they’d all stayed here, where they could be big fish in a small pond. “I’ll give him a try.”

Jake reached across the desk, holding out a set of keys. “In the meantime, I’d suggest that the first thing you ought to do would be to take a look for yourself.”

Zach forced himself to take the keys, fighting down a wave of nausea. That wasn’t the first thing he wanted to do. It was the last thing.

* * *

IF SHE CONCENTRATED on what Sarah had asked of her, Meredith decided, she might be able to keep her mind off Zach. She would not let herself wonder why she hadn’t seen him since the previous day, or what he was finding to do in Deer Run.

Reminding herself of her good intention, Meredith walked quickly down Main Street and turned up Church. Church Street, named for the two houses of worship which faced one another on opposite sides, sloped gently uphill to Maple, where Victor Hammond, heir to the Hammond Grocery chain, had built a dream house for his wife, Laura.

There would be no taking over the comfortable old Victorian house where Victor’s parents had lived. Gossip had it that Victor had been so surprised and pleased when Laura accepted him that he’d have given her anything, including the ultra-modern home that now sat uneasily among its more traditional neighbors.

Since no place in Deer Run was too far to walk to, Meredith had walked. The problem was going to be finding Laura both at home and accessible. The secondary problem was having some believable reason for dropping in on her.

Well, she’d create some logical excuse for her presence. If she were going to find out anything else about Aaron’s death after all these years, Laura was the obvious place to start.

The clearing at the dam had been the meeting place for Laura and Aaron’s ill-fated romance. The curiosity of three ten-year-old girls had been more than up to unraveling that little secret. They’d known, and they’d been awed by the Romeo-and-Juliet story of Amish and Englisch—their golden knight involved with the most beautiful girl in the valley.

But Aaron had died at the dam, and Laura had never been the same since. That had to add up to something. Perhaps Laura had broken up with him and he’d taken his life in a moment of despair, or maybe he’d been showing off for Laura and had fallen, to be caught up in the treacherous swirling waters. Try as she might, Meredith couldn’t come up with any other likely alternatives.

Meredith approached the wrought-iron gate and stopped, hand on the cool metal. The grounds surrounding the house were professionally cared for, she felt sure. She couldn’t picture Victor cruising along on a riding mower, or Laura deadheading the chrysanthemums.

Meredith’s breath caught. It looked as if the way had been paved for her. Laura, her face hidden by a floppy-brimmed hat and a pair of dark glasses, sat on a wrought-iron garden bench, motionless. Was she admiring the gold and bronze of the mums, or staring into space?

Even as she watched, Laura stood. She paused, as if she’d forgotten what she was about to do, and then drifted wraithlike along the path between the rosebushes.

She wouldn’t get a better chance. Meredith slipped through the gate and hurried toward the rose garden.

“Laura?”

Laura turned at the sound of her name, her expression, or what Meredith could see of it with the barrier of the glasses and hat, oddly stiff. For an instant she seemed about to speak but instead made a gesture, which Meredith decided to interpret as an invitation to join her.

“I hope you don’t mind my dropping by without calling first,” Meredith said.

“Of course not.” The polite words took a visible effort. “It’s always nice to see you, Meredith.” Laura pulled off the dark glasses, managing a smile. “I was just enjoying...” The sentence trailed off, as if it took too much effort, and she gestured vaguely at the roses.

“Your roses have been beautiful this year.” They were about past their prime now, a sentiment that could apply equally well to Laura.

What had become of the prettiest girl in the valley? In recent years, Meredith had thought Laura resembled a child’s fashion doll with her perfect face, perfect hair and perfect clothes. Today she looked...empty. There seemed no life at all in the blue eyes half-hidden by drooping lids.

“Yes, lovely,” Laura repeated. “The gardener does it all.” She cupped one overblown blossom in her hand. “You wanted...” Again the sentence trailed off.

Fortunately the flowers had given Meredith a reasonable excuse for her presence. “The church women’s group is having a flower stand at the Amish school auction tomorrow. If you’d like to donate some of your blossoms, it would be appreciated. I could come by early tomorrow and pick them up.”

All of that was true, although not, strictly speaking, her reason for being here. Still, she was bending the truth for a good cause, wasn’t she?

Laura nodded, her attention still on the rose in her hand. “Fine, fine.” Her fingers tightened on the rose, and with a quick wrench she pulled it off. The flower disintegrated in her hand, petals scattering on the flagstone path.

The sudden violence of the gesture made Meredith’s stomach twist. She tried to think of something to say, but came up empty. If she intended to bring up Aaron, she’d better do it.

“These are too perfect,” Laura announced. She caught another of the full red blossoms and subjected it to the same fate.

“You...don’t care for the red ones?” That was an inane question, but she couldn’t think of a better one.

“Too perfect,” Laura said again. She reached out as if to destroy another bloom, but then her hand fell to her side, the animation draining away as quickly as it had come.

“I wanted to ask you...” Meredith began.

“The little white roses grow wild along the edge of the field.” Laura swung on her, frowning. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, feeling as if she’d stumbled into some dark version of Wonderland. Everyone knew the wild roses that grew with abandon if given a chance. They practically had to be firebombed to be gotten rid of.

“Those are real roses, don’t you think?” Laura’s expression turned dreamy. “Aaron brought me those.” She smiled. “You remember. He’d scratched his hand on the thorns, but he said it was worth it. I kissed it to make it better. You remember, don’t you?” Her tone demanded an answer.

“Yes, I remember,” she soothed. “That’s a nice memory.”

Why was Laura so insistent that she remember? Maybe she was thinking of the three young girls following her and Aaron around that summer. They’d never given away those secret meetings between Laura and her Amish lover. Maybe that idea had planted itself in Laura’s apparently scrambled thought processes.

“I remember a lot about that summer,” she went on, watching Laura’s face for a reaction. “Aaron really loved you.”

“Yes.” Laura’s smile was dreamy, and she stroked her cheek with one of the despised roses. “He loved me. We were going to get married. But then—” She stopped, her expression shifting in an instant. “It all changed. Why did it change?” She grasped Meredith’s arm, her nails digging into the skin. “Why did it change?”

“I don’t know.” Meredith fought to keep her voice soft. “Why did it?”

“I don’t know, either.” Laura’s face crumpled like the roses. “That last night...”

“What about that last night?” Her heart thudded in her ears.

“That night—” Laura’s breath caught on a sob.

“It’s all right, Laura. Don’t worry about it.” Meredith put her arm around Laura’s waist.

She was ashamed of herself, tormenting this poor creature by asking questions. And yet, even though she’d come here for that reason, she hadn’t had to bring up the subject. It was as if her presence was enough to send Laura’s thoughts back to that lost summer.

“You have to know,” Laura said. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “You know, don’t you?” Her eyes pleaded with Meredith.

“I’m not—”

“Well, Meredith. What a surprise.”

She spun around to see Victor puffing across the lawn toward them, his round face caught between anger and worry, it seemed.

Meredith moved a step, aware of some insensible desire to shield Laura’s tears from her husband.

“It’s nice to see you, Victor.” She managed what she hoped was a natural-looking smile. “Laura and I were just discussing the possibility that you might donate some flowers for the women’s association stand tomorrow.”

“That’s tomorrow, is it?” He seemed to respond automatically while scanning Laura’s face, perhaps gauging her emotional temperature. “Yes, I’m sure we’d be happy to do so. Anything for a good cause.” He edged around her to take Laura’s arm, patting it. “Isn’t that right, Laura?”

“That’s right,” Laura parroted, her expression blank.

Meredith’s stomach gave a decided wrench. Definitely time to beat a retreat. Laura wouldn’t say anything else with Victor there, and judging by the way he grasped her arm, he had no intention of leaving Meredith alone with her.

“I’ll stop by in the morning to pick them up,” she said.

“No need.” Victor waved his hand in dismissal. “I’ll have the gardener drop them off first thing. Down at the fire hall grounds, right?”

“Right.” Most outdoor events of any size were held there, and the twice-yearly auctions to support the local Amish schools were a fixture.

“Good, good.” His attention on Laura, Victor began nudging her toward the house. “Time you were having a rest, dear. You know you’ll get a headache if you stay out in the sun for very long.”

Laura nodded, face empty. She walked toward the house next to him, as docile as a doll.

Poor Laura. Everyone in town knew about what Victor called “her visits to a spa.” The kind murmured of a nervous breakdown, while others speculated on rehab, drugs, alcohol. No one knew for sure, but the woman was clearly hurting, lost in one tragic event in her past.

Meredith hurried to the gate. She’d made a mistake in coming here. Anything she did to uncover the events of that summer was bound to cause pain to someone. She should never have gotten into this.

CHAPTER THREE

ZACH HAD COME to the conclusion that being back in Deer Run had turned him into a coward. He’d tried to walk over to the old house after his meeting with Jake Evans, but he’d wimped out. Twice.

Too many bad memories—memories he’d effectively buried for years but never quite gotten rid of. His boss had been right. He should have come back years ago to settle up with Deer Run once and for all.

He walked down Main Street, not sure where he was going but knowing he didn’t want to go back to the bed-and-breakfast. He couldn’t leave, and he wasn’t ready to face the house yet. The tiny post office, its flag fluttering in the breeze, sat where it always had, and the imposing red brick of the bank still stood on the corner. There was a bench between them where a guy loitering to meet the girl he was forbidden to see could spot her coming out of her house.

He’d imagined that the years would make it easier—that he’d have forgotten Meredith and that he’d have come to terms with his father. Instead, the shadow of his old man could still turn his spine to spaghetti. And as for Meredith...

When he’d seen her, the years had telescoped and he’d been a love-struck seventeen-year-old again. At least he hadn’t let her see that, he trusted.

Neither of them was the same person now, and imagining anything else could lead to disaster. He had to figure out how to make peace with his memories, and he’d better do it fast, because Meredith was walking down Main Street toward him.

He sucked in a breath, telling himself to play it cool. She hadn’t seen him yet. Her gaze was fixed on the sidewalk, and something had upset her usual equilibrium, setting a frown on her forehead and anxiety in the set of her jaw. It struck him that he might have been the cause, given how he’d spoken to her yesterday.

There was a difference between being cool and being cruel. He didn’t have the right to hurt her for decisions they’d made when they were seventeen.

He stepped into her path and she looked up, startled. Color flooded her cheeks.

“Zach. I—I didn’t see you.”

“What’s wrong?” They’d always been able to go to the heart of things with each other, and he didn’t figure he’d start making polite conversation now.

“Nothing,” she said quickly and then shook her head. “Well, nothing I can do anything about, in any event.” She seemed to brush aside whatever it was, or at least table it until later. “Have you taken care of the business you had to deal with?”

“I’ve made a start.” He shrugged. “According to Jake Evans, you can’t just toss a house in the trash if you don’t want it.”

Meredith studied his face, and he had the sense that she was seeing beneath the surface, just like she used to do. She’d always been able to glimpse the person behind the tough-guy façade.

“The house where you grew up, you mean?”

He couldn’t keep from grimacing. “It came to me after my stepmother died, it seems. I don’t want it.”

“You don’t want it because the property is a tie to Deer Run, I guess.” Her direct gaze wanted the truth.

“Maybe.” But that was putting too much of the burden on her. “But mostly because the place holds a lot of bad memories. My childhood isn’t something I care to be reminded of.”

That had been one of the best things about starting a new life in a different place. He hadn’t had to deal with the constant reminders.

“What are you planning to do with it, since throwing it away isn’t an option?” The curve of her lips invited him to see the humor in the situation.

He didn’t. “I figured I’d put it on the market cheap and get rid of it, but according to Evans, it won’t sell in the shape it’s in.”

Meredith nodded, the tiny frown line back between her brows, for his problem this time. She shoved a strand of hair behind her ear, and his heart jolted. She’d always done that when she concentrated on something.

“You can trust Jake to give you an honest opinion, I’m sure. Everyone says he’s become a good attorney.”

“He claims his father is the exception to that opinion,” he said, just to see her face lighten.

Her smile flickered. “Jacob Senior is proud of his son, but of course he can’t admit such a thing. His gruff predictions of imminent disaster when Jake takes over are just a smoke screen, and everyone knows it.”

“Must be nice to have a father like that.” His old man had meant every word of the things he’d said to him, most of it stuff he certainly couldn’t repeat to Meredith, of all people.

As always, she saw behind his words to the meaning. Her hand moved tentatively, as if she wanted to reach out to him.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft.

“Yeah. Well, it’s over and done with. I don’t suppose there were many people who thought Wally Randal was much of a loss when he died.”

“You didn’t come back for the funeral,” she observed.

“You were there?” That shocked him. He hadn’t known about it in time, but if he had, he still wouldn’t have come. But Meredith had gone. “Why?” Because of him?

“I...thought I should attend.” She looked so uncomfortable that he let it go.

“I heard about your dad’s passing.” Courtesy of Jeannette, who seemed convinced he wanted to hear every scrap of news about what had happened in Deer Run since he left. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Her face was composed, but her eyes were shadowed. “It’s been a long time, but I still miss him.”

Zach’s heart twisted. “I know you were close.” He’d admired John King’s devotion to his daughter, even though that devotion had once made him Zach’s enemy.

Meredith stepped aside to let a woman carrying a shopping bag pass, nodding a greeting. She didn’t speak again until the woman was well out of earshot.

“There was something I wanted to say to you, Zach.” Her brown eyes were candid, fixed on his face. “Maybe I’d better say it now, since I don’t suppose you’ll be in town long.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear whatever it was, but he nodded.

Meredith hesitated, and for a moment he thought she looked more like the girl she’d been than the polished woman she was now. That glimpse kicked him right in the heart.

“I want you to know how sorry I am for what my mother did to you.” She seemed to force the words out. “She thought she was protecting me, but that’s no excuse. She drove you away from your home, kept you from finishing high school...” Her voice trembled slightly. “And I hurt you, too. I can’t expect you to forgive me, but I wanted you to know how much I regret what happened.”

She pressed her lips together, and he knew that it had cost her a lot to say what she had. How much easier it would be for her to pretend the past had never happened, to greet him politely and then avoid him until he disappeared again. But Meredith had never been one to take the easy way. He’d admired that quality years ago, and he still did.

“It’s all right. I mean it. Getting out of Deer Run was the best thing that could have happened to me. Your mother didn’t intend to, but she did me a favor.”

She managed a faint smile at that idea. “It’s good of you to take it that way. But I let you down, too, and I’m sorry.”

He had to take the guilt from her face, even at the cost of a lie. “Forget letting me down. What did we know about life at seventeen? The way I see it, you kept both of us from making a big mistake, right?”

Her face was immobile for a moment. Then her lips moved in a stiff smile.

“Right.” She glanced around, as if to be sure no one was watching them. “I’d better get back to work. If I don’t see you again, have a safe trip back.”

She turned and walked quickly away.

* * *

AS SHE HEADED up the steps to the wide front porch a few minutes later, Meredith couldn’t help hoping that her mother wasn’t back yet from her committee meeting. If the local rumor mill had already reported her conversation with Zach, she’d have to listen to her mother’s laments, lectures and warnings all over again.

More importantly, Meredith didn’t want her mother’s sharp eyes zeroing in on how upset she was.

Her luck was out—Mom sat in her favorite upholstered rocker in the living room, her low-heeled pumps propped on the small ottoman. “Meredith, you’re finally home. I was starting to worry about you.”

What did she imagine could happen to Meredith in Deer Run in broad daylight? Maybe exactly what had happened—an encounter with Zach.

“How was your meeting?” Meredith paused in the archway. She wanted nothing so much as to disappear into her bedroom or her office and close the door, but that would be inviting her mother to follow her with questions.

“Fine, fine. We’re all ready for the sale tomorrow.” Her mother’s lips tightened, accentuating the fine lines. “Though why Jeannette imagines she’s in charge, I don’t know.”

“You know how she is.” Meredith kept her tone soothing, fearing the subject of Jeannette would lead inevitably to Jeannette’s current guest. “She thinks nothing will go well if she doesn’t have her hand in it.”

Her mother sniffed, not mollified. “She thinks she knows more than anyone else, too. She actually had the nerve to ask me if you’d talked to Zach Randal yet. Nosy woman. I can’t stand gossips.”

If her father were here, he’d be exchanging a secret smile with Meredith about now. He’d known perfectly well that Margo was fully engaged in the silent, secret battle that went on among much of Deer Run’s female population to be the first to know what their neighbors were thinking and doing. Or thinking about doing.

There didn’t seem to be any useful comment she could make. “I’m going to change clothes before I settle down to work.” She turned toward the stairs.

“Wait.” Her mother straightened, moving her feet to the carpet. “You didn’t tell me where you’ve been.” There was a slightly sharper edge to her voice than her usual curiosity.

“I was up at the Hammond place. I spoke with Victor.” Since she’d set up the bookkeeping system for the Hammond grocery stores, her mother wouldn’t be surprised. And she had spoken to Victor, after all.

“Did you see Laura? How is she?” Mom, along with most of the village, was insatiably interested in Laura’s frequent visits to rehab.

“She seemed fine.” That was really a whopper, wasn’t it? Laura was definitely not fine. “She showed me her roses, and they’re going to send some flowers for the stand in the morning.”

A few more steps, and she’d be on the stairs.

“Wait,” her mother said again. “There’s a bag inside the door. Something Rachel dropped off for you. That scrapbook you girls kept when you were little.”

In other words, she’d checked the contents. Well, stopping her mother’s curiosity was about as likely as stopping the wind from blowing.

“Thanks, I’ll take it up with me.” She slid the scrapbook out, handling it cautiously. The pages were browned and brittle after all these years.

“I suppose this means you’re thinking about the Mast boy’s drowning again.” Her mother stood in the archway, one hand on the brass latch of the pocket door. “I don’t know what you think you’ll find out after all these years.”

Meredith tried to mask her surprise. Was that just a general comment, or had her mother somehow learned what Sarah had asked of her?

“I’d just like to hold on to the scrapbook.” She cradled it in her arms. “That’s all.”

“You weren’t even here that night.” Her mother went on as if Meredith hadn’t spoken. “Spending the night with some of your cousins, as I recall. So you couldn’t know anything about what happened. Any more than your father could. He was out that night, too.”

She’d heard often enough how her mother had been alone in the house the night Aaron Mast had died not more than a hundred yards away. It was a frequent refrain when her mother didn’t want to be left alone in the evening.

“That’s true. I don’t know anything about it.” And she was beginning to think it was best that way. What right did she have to probe into other people’s private grief? She ought to tell Sarah there was nothing to find and let the past rest.

Her mother nodded, but she didn’t return to her chair. “When is that Randal boy leaving?” she asked abruptly.

Meredith’s heart clenched at the sudden introduction of his name, although she hardly thought the man Zach was now deserved to be referred to that way.

“I don’t know.”

“Why not? You talked to him.”

“He didn’t say. He has some business to take care of. I suppose he’ll leave when it’s finished.” And that was another piece of the past that she should lay to rest.

She walked quickly to the stairs. “I really have to get to work now, Mom. We’ll talk later.” She hurried up toward the sanctuary of her room, relieved not to hear her mother’s plaintive voice behind her.

Once the door was closed she leaned against it, closing her eyes. Strangely enough, now that she could cut loose, she no longer felt the urge to cry.

Zach had made his feelings clear—he was glad she had refused to go away with him. So all the guilt she’d been holding tight had been unnecessary. He apparently considered that he’d had a narrow escape.

She should be happy. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem able to convince her heart of that fact.

Meredith crossed the room, carrying the scrapbook, and slid it into a drawer of the maple desk Dad had bought for her when she outgrew the frilly pink bedroom of her childhood. The desk, along with the maple sleigh bed and chest of drawers, had been made by an Amish furniture craftsman, and the star quilt had been a gift from Sarah’s mother, a little touch of her Amish heritage in a house that was otherwise decorated in her mother’s taste.

As for the scrapbook, she’d study it later. Or not. Without thinking, she looked out the back window toward the dam, catching just a glimpse of the water through the trees.

Hadn’t she already decided that poking about in the past was too hurtful? It was time she buried the events of that summer.

Meredith reached out, automatically straightening the milk-glass vase her father had won for her at the county fair when she was ten. It had stood on her desk ever since, filled with pens and pencils. Her hand rested on the desk blotter, and she frowned. She always kept it aligned with the front edge of the desk, but now it was pushed a good two inches back.

Still frowning, she let her gaze scan the desk surface, the bookcase, the dresser with its embroidered scarf. Her mother thought she was too methodical, too organized, as if that was a fault, or too masculine a trait. But she liked order, and she found it soothing to see things in their proper places...things like the hand mirror, which belonged on the right side of the dresser, not the left. And she’d never leave the top drawer slightly open like that, caught on a frill of lace.

She went to the dresser, her heart thudding uncomfortably, and yanked the drawer open. Someone had been in her room. Someone had disarranged things in his or her search.

She glanced at the window again, feeling as if a shadow had reached out of the past to touch the present.

But that was ridiculous. She didn’t have to look very far to find out who had searched her room. No doubt it had been her mother, looking for evidence of her nonexistent affair with Zach.

She closed the drawer firmly. Irritation burned in her, urging her to confront her mother about this invasion of her privacy.

She fought back the indignation. Did she really want to open that subject with her mother? And did she want to deal with the inevitable consequences of a scene with her mother?

Better to do what she always did. Better to swallow her annoyance, put on a pleasant face and deny her feelings. She was getting almost frighteningly good at that.

* * *

MEREDITH CHECKED TO BE SURE there was still decaf in the coffeepot, in case anyone wanted a second cup, and switched off the light over the kitchen sink. Her image, reflected in the window, disappeared, and she stood looking out at the lawn and the strip of woods beyond as dusk drew in.

From the living room she could hear the chime of her mother’s laughter. Dr. Bennett Campbell had stopped by, and the two of them were playing a game of dominos. As good an excuse as any, Meredith supposed, for an exchange of local gossip and the mild flirtation that had gone on between the two of them for years.

Bennett had closed down his medical practice a few years ago, but he was always ready to listen and sympathize with Mom’s complaints. He’d describe himself as a family friend, probably, but Meredith had always believed he didn’t care much for her. She was too sensible and practical, too much like her father. Bennett, ridiculously old-fashioned for his age, liked women who were frilly and flirtatious, and who at least pretended to be a bit helpless when there was a man around.

Still, she had to be grateful to Bennett for tonight’s visit, since it removed the temptation to confront her mother about searching her room.

A flicker of movement from outside caught Meredith’s eye, and she leaned forward for a better look. Someone had come down the drive, apparently, and was headed toward the path to the pond. A faint uneasiness touched her, moving like a breeze across her skin.

People did come through this way, even though it involved walking across their property. She wouldn’t ordinarily say anything, but something about the way that figure drifted silently along...

Her breath caught. She recognized the shape and the movement. It was Laura Hammond.

What was Laura doing here? She rarely went out at night, and certainly not alone and on foot. The unease strengthened to concern. With a quick glance toward the door to the living room, Meredith slipped out onto the back porch.

Dusk drew in earlier now, and the air had cooled down from this afternoon’s balmy seventies. She should go back for a flashlight and jacket, but something insisted she hurry. Laura was already disappearing into the trees.

Meredith walked swiftly across the back lawn. Daylight lingered enough here to make the way easily visible, but shadows gathered beyond, where the path wound toward the dam.

Laura had every right to go there, but at the risk of appearing a hopeless busybody, Meredith knew she couldn’t ignore this visit. Certainly Victor didn’t know Laura was heading for the spot where she used to meet Aaron, the place where Aaron died.

The woods closed around Meredith once she reached the path. She could call to Laura, but the same impulse that had compelled her to follow also urged her to silence.

A thought struck her, nearly taking her breath away. What if Laura was meeting someone else there, where she’d once met Aaron? Her step faltered. Well, if so, Meredith would have to hope she could slip away undetected.

Her sneakers made no sound on the soft earth, and only the faint rustle of the weeds on either side of the path disturbed the stillness.

A branch snapped somewhere off to her left, and her heart stuttered. Foolish. An animal, probably.

She could see the surface of the pool now, gleaming through the trees, and she slowed, coming to a cautious halt when she reached the edge of the clearing. She drew in a breath. Where was Laura? The path didn’t lead anywhere else, but the clearing lay empty before her.

A sound drifted through the air—a kind of tuneless humming that started and stopped. As Meredith’s eyes adjusted to the dark she spotted Laura, sitting on a log in the shadow of the big oak that overhung the dam. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, and she rocked back and forth, as if in time to some music only she could hear.

Meredith approached slowly, trying not to startle her. “Laura?”

Laura didn’t turn, but the slightest movement of her shoulders acknowledged Meredith’s presence.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” Some instinct kept her voice soft, her movements slow.

She sat down next to Laura on the log, feeling the rough bark even through her khakis. Laura was wearing a short-sleeved sweater and a soft, full skirt—hardly the apparel for walking in the woods.

“I come...sometimes.” Her words were as soft and fragmented as the tune she’d been humming. “I...” She seemed to lose focus for a moment. “I’m waiting.”

Meredith pressed her hands against the log, grateful for the bite of the texture grounding her. If she really wanted to find out what Laura knew about Aaron’s death, this might be the only opportunity she’d have.

“What are you waiting for?”

Laura’s forehead puckered. “I don’t remember.”

She was on something, Meredith felt sure. The slightly slurred speech, the unfocused stare... Still, it might be a medication that had been prescribed for her. Even so, she shouldn’t be out here alone, and the pity Meredith felt for her overwhelmed her desire to question the poor woman.

“It’s getting chilly, and you don’t have a jacket. Why don’t you come in the house with me? I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

“That’s very kind of you.” From somewhere, Laura pulled up the appropriate response. “But I can’t go yet. I have to tell him something.”

“Tell who?” She thought she already knew the answer, and a chill settled inside her.

“Aaron, of course.” Laura looked at her, an expression of surprise on her face. “You know that. You know I have to tell him.”

Was Laura imagining that Meredith was one of her high school friends? Jeannette, maybe, who’d always been her best friend, even when they were teenagers. She’d always thought Jeannette an odd choice of best friend for the most popular girl in the valley.

“I don’t think he’d want you to wait out here in the cold, would he?” She took Laura’s arm, attempting to get her to her feet. “Let’s go back to the house.”

“I can’t.” Laura rose, but her voice rose, too. “You know I can’t. It’s important. I have to tell him. It changes everything. I have to tell Aaron.”

The chill seemed to expand, surrounding Meredith’s heart. Laura wasn’t talking about whispering a message to Aaron in the place he’d died. She was back there, twenty years ago, waiting for Aaron to meet her.

“Aaron? Where are you?” Laura called out, taking a step toward the dam and the foaming water.

Meredith caught her arm. “He’s not here. He couldn’t come tonight. You can tell him later.” She tugged at her, suddenly desperate to get Laura back to lights and warmth and other people.

Laura strained toward the dam. Meredith held on, afraid of what Laura might do if she let go. She needed help, she couldn’t cope with this alone—

The pressure on Meredith’s hand stopped. Laura stared at the water. And then she buried her face in her hands, her body trembling as she began to weep soundlessly.

Meredith wrapped an arm around her and hustled her toward the path. “It’s all right. Really. We’ll soon get you home. Everything will be all right.”

Nonsense words, and false besides. She didn’t think everything was going to be all right for Laura for a long time, maybe not ever. But the words were meant to comfort, and maybe they did that, at least.

They stumbled up the path. It wasn’t really wide enough for two, but Meredith was afraid to let go of the woman, so she walked through the weeds. Berry brambles caught at her pant legs, but she kept forging ahead, absurdly glad to see the lights of the house still on and even to see her mother and Bennett seated at the card table in the living room.

Bennett was a doctor. Maybe she should ask him for help with Laura.

But Bennett was also an incurable busybody, and if her mother saw Laura like this, it would be all over Deer Run by morning. Better just to put Laura in the car and run her home. Her mother would hear the car going out, of course, but Meredith could think of some explanation by the time she got back.

But she didn’t have her keys. She’d have to go in the house for them, risk having her mother hear what was going on—

A light stabbed her in the face, and she lifted one hand to shield her eyes, clutching Laura with the other.

“What are you doing with Laura?” Jeannette lowered the flashlight she held, rushing toward them like an avenging angel.

“Keep your voice down unless you want my mother and Bennett Campbell out here,” Meredith said in a furious whisper. “I was about to run Laura home.”

Jeannette shielded the flashlight with her fingers, letting out enough light to examine Laura’s face. The tears had stopped, thank goodness, but her face was still wet with them, and she’d begun humming again. Meredith’s heart clenched with pity.

“My car’s still out,” Jeannette said abruptly. “I’ll drive her.”

Meredith nodded. She had no desire to face Victor with explanations. “I’ll help you get her to the car.”

Laura’s humming had been replaced with a soft murmur of words Meredith couldn’t understand. Did Jeannette? She glanced at Jeannette in the circle of light from the streetlamp as they crossed the road, but Jeannette’s face was expressionless. Maybe she was used to this. Being Laura’s best friend couldn’t be an easy task.

Jeannette steered them to her car, which was parked at the curb, and opened the rear door. Wordlessly they helped Laura inside. She promptly slid over to lie down on the seat. Jeannette closed the door.

“I’ll take it from here.” She yanked the driver’s door open. “Thank you.” The words were an after-thought, apparently. She started the car and drove off.

Meredith shivered, rubbing her arms as she watched the red taillights recede down the nearly empty street. It didn’t look as if anyone had noticed them. She’d better get inside before she was missed.

When she reached her own driveway again, she couldn’t help glancing at Jeannette’s place, and she sucked in a breath. She’d been wrong. Someone had noticed them. Zach stood in the upstairs window, and he was looking right at her.

Meredith turned and fled for the back door.

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