In Laurel Ridge, Pennsylvania, a community once united must suspect one of their own

Amish quilter Sarah Bitler’s dreams no longer feature a husband and family. Instead, she searches for success in the quilt shop within Blackburn House, a place once tarnished with deadly secrets. She refuses to let the past influence her future...until an ominous fire forces them to collide.

Firefighter Aaron King was the first to touch Sarah’s heart—and the first to break it. Now a widower and father of two small girls, his return to Sarah’s life brings her buried feelings to the surface. As a string of horrific incidents tears apart their community, an arsonist’s wrath threatens to destroy them all. With Aaron as the only suspect, Sarah must follow her instincts to find the truth. But to protect an innocent man, she might risk her heart to Aaron again...and risk her life to an unknown killer.

Praise for Marta Perry

“Abundant details turn this Amish romantic thriller series launch into a work of art.”

—Publishers Weekly, starred review, on Where Secrets Sleep

“Crisp writing and distinctive characters make up Perry’s latest novel. Where Secrets Sleep is a truly entertaining read.”

—RT Book Reviews

“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

“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

When Secrets Strike

Marta Perry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Dear Reader,

I’m so glad you decided to read my latest Amish suspense series. I always intended to make Sarah, the Amish quilt shop owner, the protagonist of this story. But as I began the planning, I became aware again of the difficulties involved in having Amish characters in a suspense novel. The Amish believe that faith means following Jesus’s teachings, including the one about turning the other cheek. They will not return violence for violence, and of course suspense often does involve attacks, danger and threats. Obviously my Amish characters could not be police officers or use violence in any way against another person. As I wrote, though, I found that this seeming handicap brought an interesting facet to my characters, as they had to struggle against the temptation of anger and violence in the face of attack.

If you’ve read Where Secrets Sleep, I hope you enjoy revisiting familiar places, browsing in the quilt shop and catching up with what’s happening in the lives of people you met there.

Please let me know how you feel 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 facebook.com/martaperrybooks or at martaperry.com, or write to me at HQN Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

Blessings,

This story is dedicated to my husband, who always believes in me, with much love.

In nature there are neither rewards nor punishment. There are only consequences.

—Amish proverb

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dear Reader

Dedication

Epigraph

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

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

BE CAREFUL OUT THERE. Sarah Bitler smiled, thinking of her mother’s familiar goodbye as Sarah had climbed into her buggy this morning. Mammi always said the same thing when any of her family left her sight. She’d really rather they stay safely on the farm, even Sarah, who was nearing thirty and had long since been accepted as a maidal, an old maid, by their Pennsylvania Amish community.

What was there to be careful of on this peaceful back road that wound between Amish and Englisch farms on its way to the town of Laurel Ridge? The route took a bit longer to reach her quilt shop than if Sarah had gone by the main road, but was worth it to keep her mother from worrying.

“Mamm is being a little silly, ain’t so, Molly?” She could talk to her buggy horse out here without fear of being overheard. “There’s not even a storm cloud in the sky today.”

Molly flickered her ears in response to Sarah’s voice and then broke stride. The mare tossed her head, snorting.

“What are you—”

Sarah stopped, seeing a few seconds later what Molly had sensed immediately. Smoke, snaking its way up between the trees ahead of her.

“Someone burning trash, that’s all.” But doubt threaded her words. There was too much smoke for that, surely. Hard on the thought she saw the sparks shooting upward, landing among the trees. Her heart thudded in her chest.

Fire. The one thing that farmers feared most, especially in a dry summer like this one. She slapped the lines, sending the mare surging ahead. She’d have to see for herself what was burning.

Around the next curve in the winding road, the source was visible. Flames licked the back wall of a barn, and smoke billowed upward, fanned by the summer breeze. An unused barn, thank the gut Lord, part of the property belonging to an elderly widow who lived in town. No animals were in danger, at least, but if the fire spread—

Sarah froze for an instant, undecided. Race to the nearest phone to call for help? Or check first in case someone needed help?

A glimpse of the small cottage near the barn decided her. The cottage wasn’t empty—Mrs. Everly let Gus Hill live there in exchange for keeping an eye on the property. Sarah had to be sure he wasn’t in danger.

Turning an unwilling Molly onto the lane, Sarah touched her with the buggy whip, and they bucketed up to the cottage. Sarah jumped down from the buggy seat and raced to the door, her breath coming quickly. If Gus was there, surely he’d have smelled the fire by now. Unless he’d somehow provided himself with a bottle, in which case he could well be passed out and unaware of the danger.

“Gus! Gus Hill! Are you in there?” Sarah pounded on the door, glancing toward the flames that licked at the barn roof. “Gus!” She twisted the knob, and the door swung open.

A quick glance around the two littered rooms told her that wherever Gus was, he wasn’t here. But the barn—

She ran back outside. The fire ate greedily at one corner of the roof, sending a shower of sparks toward the trees. He surely wasn’t in there. He couldn’t be. She should hurry to the nearest phone. But she couldn’t, not without being certain.

Her breath catching, Sarah raced to the barn. The heat radiating from it was terrifying, but she had to look—had to be certain Gus wasn’t in there. She grabbed the hem of her apron and held it over her mouth and nose. Eyes watering, she peered through the open doorway.

Empty—not even any old hay bales to feed the fire. And no crumpled body lying unconscious, either.

A timber crashed, flaming, to the barn floor, sending a trail of fire heading toward her. Sarah spun, fleeing to the buggy, not needing to use the whip to persuade Molly into a gallop. They jolted back down the lane, back around the bend. The Stoltzfus farm, that would be closest, and they had a phone shanty near their barn.

Molly raced up the Stoltzfuses’ lane, heading straight for their barn as if it were her own. Sarah halted the mare at the phone shanty, stumbled down and grabbed the receiver, hitting 911. By the time she’d gasped out the information to the emergency dispatcher, Ben Stoltzfus was running toward her from the barn, followed by three of his sons, while his wife, Miriam, hurried from the house, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“Was ist letz, Sarah? What’s wrong?” Ben grasped her arm.

A fit of coughing seized her, and she could only point.

“Ach, how did we not smell it? Fire—the old Everly barn, ja?”

Sarah nodded, catching her breath. “I spotted it when I was passing. The sparks...” She didn’t need to explain the danger to Ben. He was already turning to his sons.

“Buckets and shovels into the wagon, quick. We must keep the fire from spreading until the fire truck gets here.”

Wide-eyed, the boys ran to obey. Ben raced for the paddock and his buggy horse.

Miriam had reached Sarah by then and wrapped her arm around her. “You’re all right? Komm, let me see. You didn’t burn yourself?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” A cough interrupted the words. “Just need a drink of water, I think.”

“For sure. Into the house, now.” Miriam glanced to the oldest of her daughters. “Emma, go and call the neighbors. Tell them the Everly barn is burning. Quick!”

Ten-year-old Emma paled, but she bolted to the phone shanty.

Suddenly weak in the knees, Sarah was grateful for Miriam’s arm around her as they headed for the farmhouse. Miriam, like any Amish mammi, clucked and comforted and scolded all at once as she gently shoved Sarah onto a kitchen chair and then set a glass of water in front of her.

“You rest a minute. I’ll start coffee. Lucky I have a couple of jugs of lemonade I can take over, too. The firefighters will need a drink.”

Sarah nodded, accepting Miriam’s automatic assumption that they would provide what was needed. It was what neighbors did.

“Maybe take drinking water, as well. I don’t know what the water source is over there.”

“Ja, that’s true.” Miriam bustled around, putting one daughter in charge of the baby and enlisting the other two in carrying jugs and cups to Sarah’s buggy.

“I looked for Gus Hill.” Sarah cleared her throat and took another gulp of water. “No sign of him.”

“He’s never one to hang around if there’s trouble,” Miriam said darkly. “I don’t know what Julia Everly pays him for looking after the place for her, but he’s not worth it, that’s certain sure.”

Reluctant as she was to speak ill of anyone, Sarah had to admit that Miriam was most likely right. Gus was a fixture in the township, well known for his talent for getting by on the least possible effort.

By the time the buggy was loaded, Ben and the boys had already taken off in the wagon. The wail of a siren pierced the air. The fire truck roared by, followed by the usual cars and trucks carrying extra volunteers. Most of the able-bodied men in the area belonged to the volunteer fire company, both Amish and Englisch. Like Aaron King.

Sarah shoved the name to the back of her mind as she and Miriam drove Sarah’s buggy in the wake of the volunteers. She had no right to be more concerned for Aaron than for any other of her Amish brethren. Now if she could only convince herself of that fact...

By the time they reached the Everly property, the barn was fully engulfed. Figures in yellow protective gear swarmed around it, but Sarah could see they were more intent on keeping the fire from spreading than on trying to save the structure. It was too late for that.

Molly whinnied, shaking her head nervously, so Sarah led her a short distance away and tethered her to a tree. Miriam had shoved a folding table into the buggy, behind the seat. They pulled it out and began setting thermoses and jugs on it.

Scanning the firefighters, all so alike in their gear, Sarah couldn’t deny she was searching for Aaron. She caught a glimpse of a chestnut-colored beard, and her breath went out in an involuntary sigh of relief. He was there, of course, and he was safe. That slighter figure next to him was probably his teenage brother, Jonah. Aaron would be keeping a close eye on the boy.

The barn roof collapsed with a roar and a shower of embers, and for a few minutes the scene reminded Sarah of an angry beehive as the volunteers fought to extinguish the flying sparks.

Miriam caught her hand, and Sarah realized the woman was watching her husband. Ben leaned on his shovel, coughing, but a moment later he’d straightened and was back at work.

Finally the barn was nothing more than a sullen black heap, still sending smoke and fumes into the air. In twos and threes the firefighters began drifting over to the table, and Sarah and Miriam were suddenly busy pouring out drinks.

“Sarah?” The sound of her name had her turning.

Mac Whiting, Laurel Ridge’s police chief, stood behind her, pulling a notebook from his pocket. He looked very official in his blue uniform with a weapon at his hip, and only the fact that she’d known him since childhood kept her from retreating into the usual Amish reticence when confronted with Englisch officials.

“Some coffee, Mac?”

He shook his head. “Save it for the guys who did all the work.” He snapped his pen. “I understand you called in the fire.”

“I was on my way to town. To the shop,” she added, although Mac would know that well enough. “I saw the smoke before I came around the bend, and then I saw the flames. In the back, the fire was, then,” she said, pointing.

“So you went over to Ben and Miriam’s to call?” He jotted the information down, though what good it would do anyone, she didn’t know.

“Ja. But I checked first to see if Gus was here. I pounded on the cottage door. No answer, but I was afraid he was asleep, maybe.”

Mac grinned. “That’s a diplomatic way of putting it. I take it you didn’t see him.”

“The door wasn’t locked, so I checked inside, but the cottage was empty. Then I feared he might be in the barn.” Sarah seemed to feel the heat on her face again. “I looked, but no—”

“You never go near a burning building!” Aaron King was suddenly at her side, looking as if he’d like to shake her. “Ach, Sarah, whatever were you thinking?”

His obvious concern warmed Sarah’s heart despite the fact that he was looking at her as if she were an erring child.

“I was thinking same as you would have,” she said, her voice tart. “If someone was lying there in danger, I couldn’t just go away. And don’t go telling me I shouldn’t have, because I had to.”

Aaron’s hand closed around her wrist for an instant, and her breath caught. Then he let go, shaking his head, his brown eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. “You always were a stubborn one, Sarah Bitler. Quiet, but stubborn.”

Too quiet, she couldn’t help thinking. If she’d given him even a hint of what she felt, all those years ago, would it have made a difference?

“It’s just as well she looked, or we’d have thought there was a body in there.” Mac sounded practical. “We might have known Gus wouldn’t be anywhere around when there was trouble.”

That seemed to be the unanimous opinion of Gus.

“Julia Everly is going to be so upset.” Sarah pictured the tart-tongued elderly woman. “She never would let go of this property, because her husband used to love coming out here. And now that she’s laid herself up with a broken leg, she’ll really be fretting.”

“You mean she’ll be calling me every five minutes to find out what progress I’m making,” Mac said.

Sarah looked at him blankly. “Calling you? Why?”

“I’m the local fire marshal, remember? I’m supposed to have answers.”

“Ja, but what could you do?” she asked. “The firefighters did their best. At least they kept the blaze from spreading. As dry as it’s been, it’s lucky the woods didn’t catch.”

“It’s not about that.” Mac frowned. “Look around you, Sarah. There’s not a cloud in the sky. No lightning to set it off. Nothing combustible stored in the barn. No electricity, even. So how did the barn catch fire to begin with?”

Arson. She felt Aaron stiffen next to her. The word didn’t have to be said aloud to chill the blood.

* * *

SARAH FINALLY MADE it to town by early afternoon. Instead of heading straight for the quilt shop, she drove the buggy down a quiet residential street. Her business partner, Allison Standish, would have things in hand at the shop, and Sarah felt compelled to visit Julia Everly. The elderly woman would certain sure be upset by the fire.

After tying the mare to a convenient porch railing at the modern ranch-style house, Sarah walked to the front door, mentally rehearsing soothing words. Julia was normally the feistiest of eightysomething women, but being confined to a chair by a heavy cast on her leg had taken some of the starch out of her. Sarah had stopped by the previous week, bringing an apple crumb pie her mamm had made, and had found Julia surprisingly subdued.

The door opened almost before Sarah had touched the doorbell. “Oh. It’s you, Sarah.” Donna Edwards, a distant cousin of Julia’s who made sporadic efforts to look after her, gave the impression that a welcoming smile was too much effort. “I was just trying to get my cousin to take a little nap in her chair. I don’t think company is a good idea right now.”

“I don’t want to disturb her, but I thought she’d want to see me.” If anything, Sarah would think Julia needed more company, not less.

Donna looked at her blankly, her thin face registering nothing other than a rather peevish attitude, apparently toward being interrupted. She reminded Sarah irresistibly of one of her mother’s irascible hens.

“I was the one who discovered the fire,” Sarah explained patiently. “I understood someone notified her, but—”

“Yes, of course.” Donna’s expression relaxed, and she fingered the glass beads that dangled over one of the frilly blouses she always wore. “You must think I’m half-asleep. Chief Whiting came by to let Julia know a while ago. I just didn’t realize you were the one who’d found the fire.”

Sarah nodded. “I spotted it on my way in to work this morning.” She had a feeling she’d get tired of saying those words.

Donna glanced back over her shoulder toward the archway into the living room. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you, but maybe later would be better. I don’t want her upset any further.”

Donna’s air of authority was mildly annoying. Still, Sarah supposed she meant it for the best. “Well, just let her know I stopped by, and—”

“Donna? Who are you talking to? Why don’t they come in? You can’t expect me to get up and fight with this walker every time the doorbell rings.” The voice came from the living room in a subdued bellow.

Sarah grinned. That sounded much more like Julia. “It’s Sarah Bitler,” she called.

“Well, come in. Why are you standing on the doorstep?”

Donna shrugged, rolling her eyes as she stepped back. “Try not to let her get upset,” she muttered. “I thought I’d never get her settled down after that policeman left.”

Nodding, Sarah went past her into the comfortable living room. Julia, unlike most of Laurel Ridge’s wealthier residents, didn’t live in one of the town’s classic Victorian houses. After her husband’s death she’d sold the place she’d always referred to as a mausoleum, and bought this small, convenient one-story rancher.

The living room was designed for comfort, rather than fashion, with a pair of recliners on either side of a fireplace, a welcoming love seat and built-in bookshelves that were filled primarily with bright paperbacks. A large-screen television sat at an angle to face one of the recliners, and as Sarah entered, Julia reached out to mute the game show she was watching.

“What’s going on? Don’t tell me Donna is trying to protect me again. I thought she knew better.” Julia’s round, wrinkled face was bright-eyed and sometimes a little malicious. Just now she darted an annoyed look toward the hallway.

Donna, shoulders stiff, obviously heard the words, as she was meant to. She marched toward the kitchen.

“You shouldn’t tease her,” Sarah said, avoiding the heavy cast on Julia’s leg as she bent to hug her. “She’s trying to take care of you.”

“I hate to be taken care of.” The older woman’s tone was so sharp, Sarah knew helplessness was the real cause of her annoyance.

“Give your leg time to heal. You’ll soon be able to handle things yourself.”

She hoped that was true, anyway. At Julia’s age, a badly broken leg could mean the end of independent living, and as far as Sarah knew, Donna was the only relative Julia had. In a typical Amish family, there’d be plenty of people to tend an elderly relative and it was taken for granted, but not so among the Englisch.

“Never mind telling me soothing things,” Julia barked. “Sit down here and talk. I heard you’re the one who spotted the fire.”

Sarah nodded, pulling over a straight chair to sit on. Julia’s short gray hair was ruffled, as if she’d been running her hands through it, and she glared at the cast as if it offended her. Obviously the only thing to do was to tell her the story.

“I saw the smoke when I was coming into town this morning. I supposed it might have been Gus burning trash, but as soon as I came around the bend, I saw the flames at the back corner of the barn.”

Julia’s jaw was clenched. “Mac Whiting said the barn was a total loss.”

“I’m afraid so.” Guilt pricked Sarah. “Maybe if I’d gone straight for a phone when I saw the smoke, the fire company would have been able to save it, but—”

“Nonsense.” The word was sharp, and Julia gripped her hand for a moment. “Mac said you went looking for Gus first. Naturally.” Her gaze searched Sarah’s face. “He says they’re satisfied Gus wasn’t caught in the blaze.”

“That’s certain sure,” she said quickly. “I looked, and the others did, as well. He wasn’t there.”

“I suppose he’s staying out of sight, afraid I’ll blame him.” Julia snorted, her fears allayed. “Silly old fool.”

Since Julia was probably a good twenty years older than her handyman, or whatever Gus claimed to be, the description didn’t seem to fit very well. And Sarah had never thought of Gus as silly. He managed to eke out a living doing nothing much at all, and he had a weakness for drink, but he had a certain amount of shrewdness, as well.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Julia said unexpectedly. “You wonder why I bother with the lazy layabout.”

Since that was just about what she’d been thinking, Sarah couldn’t deny it. “It’s not my business.”

“Oh, he doesn’t fool me any.” Julia’s eyes crinkled, increasing her resemblance to a mischievous monkey. “I know what he is. But my husband was never happier than when he was pottering around that piece of property, hunting and fishing with Gus. I’m not sentimental, but I just can’t bring myself to get rid of the place, no matter how many offers I get.”

“Have people been wanting to buy?” That surprised Sarah. She wouldn’t have thought the property was that much in demand. It had been a farm once, but the fields were overgrown now.

“Had a call not long ago, but I wasn’t interested in selling the place.” Julia brooded for a moment. “I suppose it’ll be worth less now that the barn is gone. Maybe I ought to get rid of it before anything else happens.” Her hands worked on the chair arms, as if she’d like to propel herself right out of it.

Concerned at her agitation, Sarah clasped her hand. “You don’t need to decide anything right away. And I’m sure Gus will turn up soon.”

Julia nodded, but she still looked upset. Hadn’t Sarah agreed with Donna that she wouldn’t upset her? She sought for some subject that would divert Julia’s thoughts from a decision she clearly didn’t want to make.

“By the way, did you hear about the quilt display we’re putting together for the shop? It’s Allison’s idea. We’re setting up a showing of some antique quilts. Allison thinks it will draw in customers from out of town.”

Julia grunted something that sounded like agreement. “Probably will. Your partner’s got a good head on her shoulders when it comes to business. But she’ll never know as much about quilts as you do,” she added, as if Sarah might be jealous.

“Ach, I was born knowing about quilting, I think, given the way my mamm and grossmammi love it. And with Allison being so smart about things like the internet shopping, we make a fine team, ain’t so?”

“I guess you do,” Julia said. “Good thing, too. A woman’s got to be able to take care of herself in today’s world. Even an Amish woman.”

“Especially a single one,” she said firmly. There was no point in pretending it didn’t make a difference whether a woman was married or not. It did in a community like the Amish that was centered on family.

Julia’s gaze seemed to search Sarah’s face for a moment. She gave a short nod, as if satisfied with what she read there. “You know, I might have a few quilts to go in your display. Come to think of it, it’s about time I got them out and did something with them. Donna!” She shouted the name loudly, and Sarah jumped.

Donna appeared in the doorway so quickly that Sarah wondered if she’d stayed within earshot. “What is it?”

“You remember those family quilts I showed you a few years ago? I’m going to lend them to Sarah for a display. Box them up for her, will you?”

“Box them up?” Donna’s voice rose. “That was ages ago. I have no idea where those quilts are. I thought you got rid of them years ago.”

“Of course I didn’t.” Julia sounded testy, and her eyes were dulled, as if she was tiring. “They’re in one of those trunks in the attic. I can find them easily.”

“You can’t go climbing those attic steps with your leg in a cast. You shouldn’t do it anyway, not at your age.”

It was inevitable that Julia would flare up at that. “My age has nothing to do with it. I’m twice as active as you are, except for this stupid cast.”

“You don’t need to...” Sarah began, but neither of them listened to her.

“I won’t hunt through a bunch of old trunks for something that isn’t there,” Donna declared. “Sarah doesn’t want them, anyway.”

Sarah opened her mouth and closed it again, unable to think of anything that would resolve the sudden hostilities. As far as she could tell, this was what always happened when Donna got one of her periodic urges to take care of her elderly relative. They couldn’t tolerate each other for long. The truth was that they were both stubborn and opinionated, and that inevitably led to a clash whenever they’d been together for a time.

“Sarah will find them for me. Won’t you, Sarah?” Julia sent a triumphant look at her cousin and patted Sarah’s hand.

“Ja, yes, of course,” she said. “But not today,” she added firmly. “I must get to the shop. I’ll come another time and find them for you. We don’t need them right away, in any event.”

She rose quickly, before she could get more involved than she already was. “I’ll see you soon.”

“All right, all right.” It was said in a grumbling tone, but Julia sank back in the chair, closing her eyes briefly. Donna, with a speaking glance at her, accompanied Sarah to the door and opened it.

“Thanks for putting her off,” she murmured with a glance back toward the living room. “I shouldn’t have argued with her, but really, she gets to me. After all, here I am giving up my time to help her, and does she appreciate it? No.”

“I’m sure she does, really.” Sarah stepped outside, the heat of the July day hitting her.

“Well, I’m the only family she has, so I guess it’s my duty.” Donna assumed the air of a martyr. “Don’t worry about those old quilts, now. She’s so forgetful lately she probably won’t even remember talking to you about them.”

Forgetful? That assessment didn’t match with Sarah’s impression of Julia, but she certain sure wasn’t getting into a discussion of Julia’s mental state with Donna. Instead she gave the woman a quick smile and hurried to her buggy, relieved to get away.

* * *

AFTER SETTLING THE mare in the small stable behind Blackburn House, where her shop was located, Sarah rounded the massive Italianate Victorian mansion to the front door. She always found it hard to imagine that the building had once been a private home. Who could possibly need such an imposing residence? Amish families, even those with eight or ten children, were content with simple farmhouses.

Well, Blackburn House had long since been turned into shops and offices, and she was fortunate to have her quilt store in what had once been a fashionable parlor. Doubly fortunate, because her business partner was Allison Standish, the owner of the building.

Once she was inside the double front doors with their elaborate fanlight, Sarah could glance up at the marble hallway that stretched practically the depth of the building. The quilt shop was on the right, with a small workroom behind it, while to the left was the showroom for Whiting and Whiting Cabinetry, with its office. Toward the back, the bookstore and storage rooms took up the rest of the downstairs space. The cabinetry showroom appeared to be empty at the moment, which probably meant Nick Whiting was in the workshop behind the building.

The bell over the door jingled as Sarah walked into her shop, and Allison slid a bolt of fabric into place and hurried toward her. “Here you are at last. Nick said you probably inhaled some smoke when you were trying to find Gus Hill. We were worried about you.”

Nick, besides being a partner with his father in the cabinetry shop, was the brother of the police chief, to say nothing of being a very special person in Allison’s eyes. Most of the community expected to hear momentarily that they were engaged.

“Nick worries too much, if he said that. I’m fine. I stopped over to see Julia Everly. Did Nick tell you the fire was on property she owns?”

Allison nodded, her dark red hair swinging against her cheeks. “Is Julia all right? I haven’t seen her in a few days.”

Julia had been a close friend of Allison’s grandmother, and Allison seemed to feel a special bond with the older woman on that account.

“I think so. Worried about whether or not she should sell the property, but I managed to distract her.” Sarah’s thoughts flickered to Julia’s quilts, which might or might not be suitable for display.

“Everybody’s worried about the fire, as far as I can tell.” Allison glanced at the two customers who were browsing through the racks of fabric in the back of the store, and lowered her voice. “I didn’t quite see what Nick and his dad were so upset about. Apparently the barn was empty.”

“That’s just it.” Probably Allison, having spent all her life in the city until she’d come to Laurel Ridge in the spring, had little idea how country people felt about barn burnings. “There was nothing in that barn that could have started an accidental fire.”

“You mean they think it was deliberate?” Allison shivered a little. “That’s frightening.” She had had a close encounter with a fire herself not so long ago. She wouldn’t have forgotten.

Sarah nodded. “There’s nothing worse in a farming community than the idea that there’s a firebug loose. It happened once when I was a child, and I remember it so well—Daad staying up at night, keeping watch, never knowing what might happen, afraid to leave the animals in the barn.” It chilled her just to think of it.

“Still, there’s no reason to believe this is more than an isolated incident.”

Allison was obviously trying to look on the bright side, and she was probably right. They might well discover some innocent reason for the fire.

Sarah began to speak, but the words froze in her throat. From the firehouse down the street came an ominous sound as the siren began to wail its alarm. There was another fire.

CHAPTER TWO

AARON WALKED ALONG the edge of the cornfield between his parents’ farm and the Bitler place. Or maybe trudged was a better word, he thought wryly. Fighting two fires in one day in addition to his usual work had taken something out of him.

He brushed his hand along the stalks of corn, registering the texture of the leaves. Too dry. If they didn’t get a decent rain soon, they wouldn’t have the winter feed they needed. He didn’t want to think about the temptation the dry fields might be to a firebug.

But he had to think about it. Isolated farms couldn’t rely on the fire department to get there quickly. He’d talk to Eli Bitler first off. They could set up a plan for looking out for each other’s property. As word of the fires spread through the county, other neighbors were most likely doing the same thing.

Aaron had nearly reached the property line when he saw Eli striding toward the house from the barn. Eli was younger than Aaron’s daad—probably not yet fifty, hale and vigorous. He wasn’t one to stand back and see a problem without wanting to do something about it.

“Aaron.” Eli raised a hand in greeting, but his usual quick smile was missing. “You boys had a long day today, with the fire at the Everly place this morning and another one at Morrison’s this afternoon. How bad was it?”

Aaron shrugged. “Just a small equipment shed at Tom Morrison’s, and he was able to get his mower and garden tractor out before we arrived with the truck. Good thing, too.” Tension seized the back of his neck at the memory. “Our equipment started giving us trouble right away. We were lucky to keep the fire under control.”

Eli studied his face for a long moment. “That’s bad news. All the will in the world won’t help fight a fire if your gear isn’t in shape.”

“It’s old, that’s all.” They turned, walking toward the farmhouse together. “We can’t afford new, a small volunteer company like ours. The chief nearly had to call in the surrounding fire companies for help today.”

The worry rode Aaron like a weight on his shoulders. The surrounding townships had small volunteer companies like theirs. Two fires in one day would be a strain on any of them.

“You want to come in?” Eli jerked his head toward the kitchen door. “Hannah’s got some coffee in the pot and a fresh-baked peach pie.”

Aaron’s smile flickered. It would be a rare day when Hannah Bitler didn’t have something baked fresh, the way those boys of theirs ate. “Denke, but it may be best we talk out here where the others won’t hear. The fact is, there was no gut reason for either of those fires to start.”

Eli nodded slowly. “I figured that was in your mind. It’s certain sure been in mine since our Sarah came back with the story of the barn on the Everly property burning. No reason, and two fires so close together in one day has to mean someone started them, I’d think.”

Eli looked toward his own barn. His oldest boy, Jonah Michael, usually known as Jonny, seemed to be teaching little Noah how to drive the pony cart, while Thomas sat on the paddock fence to watch.

“I remember the last time it happened. Years ago, it was, but they never caught the guy.” Aaron had been just a boy then, but he’d taken turns with Daad standing watch, starting at every sound in the dark.

“There’s more able-bodied men around here now, at least,” Eli said, sounding determined to put the best face possible on bad news. “You and your brother and your daad, plus me and the Whitings.” He nodded toward the next farm beyond the Bitler place, where Nick Whiting lived with his parents and Nick’s small son. “I’m thinking we’ll leave the dogs loose at night from now on. They’ll give an alarm fast enough.”

“If they’re not off chasing a deer.” Eli must have more faith in his dogs than Aaron did. “Jonah and I will take turns walking around a couple of times a night. Maybe get Nick Whiting to switch off with us.”

“You can count on me, too.” Eli glanced down the lane at the sound of buggy wheels. “Here comes Sarah. If we’re not careful, we’ll have her wanting to join us.” His eyes twinkled. “I hear you scolded her for getting too close to that burning barn this morning.”

Aaron grinned. “She put me in my place pretty fast. Sarah might be quiet, but she’s got a mind of her own.”

The buggy drew up next to the porch, and Sarah’s gaze went from him to her father. “What are the two of you conspiring about?” she asked. “You look like you’re sharing secrets.”

“Just talking about the fires,” Eli said quickly. “Your brother will put the mare away for you,” he added as Thomas came running up, obviously eager to be trusted with the job.

“Right. Denke, Thomas.” She hopped down lightly before anyone could move to offer her a hand, making Aaron smile again.

Sarah was still as slim and active as she’d been when she was a young girl. He had a sudden vivid image of her chasing after him in some game they’d been playing, her braids coming loose and trailing out behind her. Her fair hair was smoothed back from a center part now, fastened in a thick bun under her snowy-white prayer covering. No one outside family or a spouse would see it loose again, and he found himself wondering how it would look.

“What are folks in town saying about the fires?” Eli caught his daughter’s hand when she would have gone past them to the porch.

Sarah’s normally serene expression sobered. “Same as you two have been saying, I’d guess. That there’s a firebug loose. That maybe it’s the same person it was the last time, since the police never caught him. Poor Mac is looking harassed already, I think. Nick told us he’s reported it to the regional fire marshal. Why should anyone blame Mac for the fact that they didn’t catch the arsonist before? He was just a boy then.”

“Some folks are only happy when they have someone to blame for their troubles,” Eli said.

Aaron’s thoughts had headed a different direction. “It doesn’t seem likely it’s the same person. That must have been—what? Close to twenty years ago.”

Sarah shrugged. “I know, but that’s what some people are saying.” She focused on him, her blue eyes filled with concern. “Are you all right? I heard you had trouble with your gear today.”

Her caring touched him. “Nothing serious.” Though he had to admit it could have been, if he’d been any closer to the fire when his mask failed. “Some of our equipment is nearly as old as I am.”

“That’s terrible. Didn’t we make enough at the spring sale to buy new equipment?”

The community spring festival in town raised money each year for the volunteer fire company, and Sarah, one of the hardest workers, would feel responsible.

“Ja, well, the money was put to gut use, but the trouble is that there’s too much needs replacing. We’ll have to rely on the neighboring companies for help in future emergencies, that’s certain sure.”

“You shouldn’t have to take risks.” Sarah’s smooth forehead wrinkled. “We need to do something.”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“There’s always something.” Her sweet oval face was troubled. “There must be.”

Sarah had a big heart—he’d always known that. She was a gut friend. He’d never been able to understand why she and Mary Ann hadn’t been closer. They’d been neighborly, but never really friendly.

Still, women were unaccountable. As usual, thinking of his late wife made him feel vaguely uncomfortable and more than a little guilty. Logic said he hadn’t failed Mary Ann, but his conscience seemed to declare otherwise.

Seeing that Sarah still looked troubled, he managed a smile. “Don’t worry so much. We won’t take any needless risks. We all look out for one another.”

His words did bring a responding smile to her face. “Don’t bother telling me you’re cautious. You all get so excited when the siren goes off that you don’t think about a thing except getting to the fire, and you might as well admit it.”

“Maybe there’s a little truth to that,” he said, relieved to see her expression relax. Sarah knew him too well for him to deny it. When you’d been friends with someone since childhood, there wasn’t much you didn’t know about the person.

That was probably why he enjoyed being around Sarah. Any other single Amish woman would be wondering why he hadn’t remarried before this, with his wife gone for over two years. Maybe even flirting a little. And since he couldn’t look at anybody in a romantic way since Mary Ann’s death, they always made him uncomfortable.

But Sarah was different. He could be at ease with her because she didn’t have any such notions. She was a friend, a good friend, and that friendship was all they needed from each other.

* * *

SARAH MOVED ALONG the rack of quilting fabrics in the shop the next day, sorting and straightening. Several women had come in earlier to choose fabrics for new projects, and that had entailed pulling out dozens of bolts to compare. They’d gone away happy, though, purchases under their arms, and that was what counted.

The shop was quiet now, with Allison having gone upstairs to her office. In fact, all of Blackburn House seemed still after yesterday’s alarms. Too quiet? Sarah had begun to feel as if she were holding her breath, waiting for the siren to wail again.

Thank the Lord there’d been nothing more last night or today. Perhaps yesterday’s fires had been simply a coincidence. She pulled out a bolt of cotton and restored it to its proper place among the green prints, running her hand along the smooth surface. Still, two unexplained blazes within hours of each other seemed to stretch chance a bit too far.

It was odd, surely, that both incidents had happened during the day. She’d think that an arsonist would be more likely to set about his misdeeds after dark, when there was less chance of being seen. She’d intended to mention that to Daad yesterday to see what he thought, but Aaron had been there when she got home, driving every other idea from her brain, it seemed.

Foolishness, that was what it was. Most people would consider her a sensible woman, but on that one subject, she was ferhoodled. Nowadays young girls, even Amish ones, seemed to fall in and out of love a half dozen times before settling down. Why couldn’t she have done the same?

Sarah paused, cradling a bolt of material in her arms, a memory slipping to the surface of her mind for reasons of its own. She’d been the only girl in their small group of childhood playmates—Nick and Mac Whiting on one side of her house, Aaron on the other. During the school year they’d been separated, of course, with her and Aaron going to the Amish school, while Nick and Mac went to the Englisch one, but in the summers, she’d tagged along after the boys wherever they went.

Mac, lively and heedless, had usually been the one to dare the others into some foolish act—such as racing across the field where the bad-tempered bull was kept. No one would say no to a dare, even when they should have.

“If we all run at the same time, that stupid bull won’t know which one to chase,” Mac had insisted, and even at eight or nine Sarah had thought there was a fallacy somewhere in that argument. But she’d gone, running with the boys, hearing the bull snort with displeasure.

The pasture was uneven beneath her feet, and fear seemed to make her clumsy. She tripped, stumbled, and by the time she regained her balance, the boys were well ahead of her and the bull so close she could almost feel his hot breath. She wasn’t going to make it—the boys had already reached the fence, but she’d never get there in time—

Then Aaron was running back toward her. He grabbed her hand, yanking her along—not toward the fence, but to the old apple tree in the pasture. The bull was almost on them when he’d boosted her up into the branches.

“Climb! Go!”

She scrambled up and then turned back, convinced she’d see Aaron flattened on the ground. But he grabbed a limb, swinging himself up and out of range just as the bull thundered past, and she’d never been so relieved before or since.

Funny. She still dreamed of that sometimes, hearing the bull thudding behind her, getting closer and closer. Sometimes in the dream Aaron reached her in time. Sometimes he didn’t. She wasn’t sure what that meant, if anything.

In any event, she feared she’d fallen in love with Aaron that day, and her stubborn heart refused to fall back out again, even when he’d married someone else.

The bell on the door jingled, so Sarah looked toward it, smiling in welcome. The smile faded when she saw Gus Hill slouched in the doorway. In his tattered overalls and stained T-shirt, he didn’t look much like the typical quilt shop customer. As always, his faded baseball cap was pulled low on his forehead, and graying hair hung shaggy around his ears.

“Good morning, Gus. How can I help you?” Julia might have sent him along with a message, Sarah supposed.

His sidelong glance skittered along the rows of fabric, then focused on her. “Miz Everly said as how I oughta come by and thank you. Said you looked around for me when you spotted that fire yesterday.”

So that was the reason behind his visit. If Julia directed Gus to do a thing, he did seem to do it, however much he might skimp in other ways.

“I was concerned for you,” Sarah said. “I thought you might be asleep and not realize something was wrong.”

Gus took a step closer, planting a probably grimy hand on a bolt of pale yellow cotton. She tried not to think of the marks he might be leaving. “If I’d a been there, I’d a smelt it for sure.”

Sarah nodded, but she wondered. If Gus had been drinking, as Mac supposed, would he have been alert enough to notice? Folks said Gus was shrewd in his own way.

“Well, I was relieved to see you weren’t in danger.” And she’d also be relieved if he’d stop handling the fabric, but she could hardly say so.

Apparently feeling he’d satisfied his obligation, Gus started to turn away. Then he swung back, frowning. “Here—you didn’t go in my house, did you? Nobody’s got a right to go in my house without I say so.” His voice rasped, and he glared at her.

A tiny shiver slid along her skin, making the fine hairs lift. “I just looked in to be sure you weren’t there, that’s all.”

Maybe he was afraid she’d report to Julia on the state of the cottage. Julia probably hadn’t been out there in months, if not years.

“Yeah, well, see you don’t. Man’s got a right to privacy in his own home, ain’t he?” His tone returned to its usual complaining grumble, and Sarah told herself she must have imagined that note of menace.

“It’s lucky you weren’t home when the fire started. You might have been hurt trying to fight it on your own.” She’d like to ease him toward the exit, but wasn’t quite sure how to manage it. “You were out early, weren’t you?”

Anger flared in his face, so quickly it startled her. “No business of yours if I was, you hear?” Gus took a step toward her, oddly menacing.

Sarah was suddenly aware of how isolated they were. No one else was in the shop, and the old building seemed to echo with the sound of his words.

Don’t be ferhoodled, she lectured herself. Gus might be a bit disreputable, but he certain sure wasn’t dangerous.

She straightened. Best to ignore his last remark, she decided. “Thank you for coming by. I’ll be sure to tell Julia about seeing you.”

For a moment Gus stood there, close enough that she could smell the rank odor of his clothes. Then the bell on the door jingled, and he jerked around. In another instant he shambled out of the shop, brushing by Aaron King without a word.

Aaron frowned after him before crossing the space to her. “What was Gus Hill doing in here?” He studied her face, his brown eyes seeming to darken. “Was he bothering you?”

“No, no.” Gus was harmless enough, despite his manner. “He came by because Julia told him he should thank me, but I could have done without the visit.” She pulled the bolt of yellow cotton from the rack. Sure enough, there was a streak of dirt almost the width of the fabric.

Aaron grasped the bolt, preventing her from walking away. “I glanced in the window when I walked past. You didn’t look right. That’s why I came in.”

“I’m fine.” She would not be moved by the protectiveness in Aaron’s manner. It didn’t mean anything. “I was just cringing at his touching this material.” She gestured toward the bolt, hoping she sounded natural. “Look at it. I’ll have to cut off the end.”

Without responding, Aaron took the bolt and carried it to the cutting table for her. She could feel his gaze on her while she moved behind the table and picked up the scissors. Before she could cut, he put his hand lightly on hers, making her pulse jump.

“We’re friends, Sarah. You’d tell me if something’s troubling you, ain’t so?”

“There’s nothing. I’m fine.” It took a conscious effort to draw her hand away from his. “What brings you to Blackburn House this morning? You’re not shopping for quilting fabric any more than Gus was, that’s certain sure.”

She said the words lightly and was surprised by the way his brows drew down and his lips tightened.

“Aaron?” she questioned. “Was ist letz? What’s wrong?”

His broad shoulders moved in a shrug. “Nothing’s wrong. I came by to check on something with Harvey Preston, that’s all.”

Preston was the real estate agent who had an office on the second floor, and she couldn’t help a natural curiosity about Aaron’s business with him. “From your expression, you weren’t happy with his answer, ain’t so?” She smiled up at him. “We’re friends, remember? You can tell me if something’s troubling you.” She repeated his words back to him.

Aaron started to shake his head and then broke off, his lips moving in an answering smile. “Guess I can’t say it’s not your concern, ain’t so? You remember that I talked to Matthew Gibson before he took off for Florida last fall?”

“You offered to buy his place if he was thinking of selling.” Gibson’s property was across the road from that of Aaron’s family. It would make a nice addition to the farm, probably doubling the size.

“He hadn’t made up his mind then, but he promised me that I’d have the first chance at it when he was ready to sell.” Aaron’s clear gaze clouded. “Well, I just found out that Preston was handling the sale for him, and the place is already sold without a thing being said to me.”

“Aaron, I’m so sorry.” She almost reached out to touch him before realizing that might not be the best of ideas. “It’s hard to believe Matt Gibson would do that to you after giving you his assurance.”

“Ja.” Aaron ground out the word, his strong jaw tight under the chestnut beard. “It was his business, but I certain sure never thought he’d go back on his promise like that. Still, he’s old and he’s been sick. Maybe he just forgot about it.”

“Is it really too late?”

“Preston says the papers are already signed. He apologized, but said Matt never mentioned a word about giving me first refusal. The place went to somebody from out of state.” He shrugged again, managing a smile. “Well, it’s God’s will, ja?”

It was the normal Amish response when life didn’t go according to their plans. It was God’s will. “Maybe you’ll find a place for sale that’s even better.”

“Nothing else is likely to be for sale along our road.” He didn’t sound optimistic. “Daad’s place isn’t big enough to support all of us, but with Gibson’s land we’d have been okay, and my mamm and sister could keep watching my girls.”

“I know,” Sarah said gently. Aaron’s two little girls, Anna and Lena, were the center of his life since Mary Ann’s death, and of course Esther King was delighted to take care of them. It would be difficult for all of them if Aaron had to move farther from his folks to make a living.

“Well, there’s no point in crying over spilled milk, I guess.” The finality in his tone made it clear the subject was closed. Aaron glanced at the soiled fabric she had crumpled in her hand. “Are you going to try and salvage that piece?”

She could wash it and add it to the box of remnants she kept for people who needed just a small amount of one color. But the dirty streak on the pale color seemed to remind her of the discomfort she’d felt at being alone in the shop with Gus.

“Not worth it,” she said, and tossed it into the trash. There was an end to it. She’d never felt uncomfortable being alone in the shop before, and she wouldn’t start now. The shop was her creation and her haven, and it occurred to her that if she hadn’t lost Aaron, she’d never have had the shop.

“Gut. I’ll put this back for you.” He started to pick up the bolt, but then stopped and grinned, looking for a moment like the boy he’d once been. “If you think my hands are clean enough.” He held them out, palms up, as if for inspection.

She couldn’t help looking. They were good, strong hands—hands that could do a hard day’s work and yet be gentle enough to soothe a troubled child. For an instant she imagined them touching her, imagined having the right to hold them close against her—

Sarah yanked her mind away from such dangerous thoughts, hoping the warmth in her cheeks didn’t mean she was blushing.

“You’ll do,” she said briskly. “Mind you put it back in the right place.”

“Bossy,” he said with a smile, and moved away.

By the time he’d completed that small task, Sarah had her breathing under control again. Aaron headed for the door, and she followed him with a question.

“Is there any news about the fire marshal getting involved yet?” As a volunteer, Aaron would probably know as quickly as anyone.

“Nothing I’ve heard. Since there wasn’t any significant damage, it’s not likely the state police marshal would get involved.” Aaron stood frowning, his hand on the doorknob. “I have a bad feeling about these fires, though.”

She nodded. “My daad must have gone out six times to check the barn last night. He’s trying not to let the younger ones see that he’s upset, but...” She let that trail off, knowing Aaron would understand.

“Anybody old enough to remember the last time we had a firebug has to feel that way.” He rested his hand on the door frame.

“It’s strange, isn’t it, that the fires were during the day?” she said. “From the little I remember, all the ones before started at night.”

“Maybe it means the firebug is getting bolder,” Aaron said.

“You think it’s the same person, then?”

He frowned, looking older for an instant. “I didn’t at first, but I’m starting to wonder. Still, it’s funny he’d be quiet all these years and then start up again.”

“Unless something happened to set him off.” She shivered. “That’s what troubles me the most—the thought that there’s somebody who’s not right in the head getting pleasure out of seeing people’s property burn.”

“Ach, we shouldn’t be talking about it.” He seized her hands in a warm, strong grip. “We’ll be giving ourselves nightmares, that’s what’ll happen.”

“Better to be prepared than pretend it’s not happening. And I told Daadi that I’ll be doing some of those nighttime trips of his to have a look around, so don’t you bother telling me anything different.”

Aaron’s fingers tightened at that, but finally he shrugged and released her. “I guess if your daad can’t talk you out of it, there’s no use my trying. Just be sure you call for help if you see anything, and don’t rush in on your own.” His gaze held hers, even though they no longer touched. “Promise me that, please, Sarah.”

She could try telling him that her welfare wasn’t his concern, but that would be a waste of breath, wouldn’t it? “All right. I promise.”

Aaron gave a short nod, brushed her fingers lightly with his and went out. Sarah stood for a moment, watching his tall, sturdy figure silhouetted by the light pouring through the glass panes in the door, and then turned back to the shop.

This was the life she’d chosen, she reminded herself. She had to be satisfied with it.

CHAPTER THREE

MOVING QUIETLY, AARON bent over the twin bed in which Anna slept. At eight, she seemed to be growing out of her clothes practically daily, so Mamm said, but when she was sleeping, with her small face relaxed, her lips a little curved, she was still the baby he’d marveled over when the midwife had put his firstborn in his arms. Her flaxen hair lay in neat braids on the pillow, and one hand curled against her cheek.

Aaron dropped a kiss on her forehead and moved to the other bed. Lena, six, slept as intensely as she did everything, a little wrinkle between her brows as if she concentrated in her dreams. Her hair, as light as her sister’s, spread in wild abandon, having long since lost the ties that were supposed to keep it in braids at night.

Funny that neither of the girls resembled him or Mary Ann. They were much more like his sister Becky in looks. Smoothing the rumpled sheet over Lena’s shoulders, he kissed her, as well. She turned a little, as if she felt his touch in her sleep, and then settled.

His heart always seemed to expand when he saw his precious girls sleeping. They were so vulnerable, so utterly dependent on him for their present and their future. He would do anything to assure that future.

The thought reminded him of the day’s disappointment, and he was frowning as he tiptoed out into the hall, easing the door closed behind him. If he’d been able to buy the Gibson place, he wouldn’t have to worry so much about providing for his kinder. Matt Gibson’s action had been as surprising as it was upsetting. Aaron would never have expected the man to let him down this way.

He started down the stairs, running his hand along the banister worn smooth by generations of his family. He loved being back here in the house where he was raised, instead of the small house Mary Ann had wanted to rent on the other side of town. This was certainly the best place for his girls, with Mamm and Becky to look after them. The addition of the Gibson place to Daad’s farm would have allowed that situation to continue. Now—well, now Aaron wasn’t sure what to do next.

He’d probably vented a bit too much to Sarah, but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t wanted to let his parents see how upset he was, because they shouldn’t have to worry about him.

But Sarah was safe. He could say anything to her and know it would go no further. Sarah was, as she’d always been, loyal and honest all the way through. She’d never told on him and the other boys when they were kids, even to save herself from trouble. He hadn’t realized how close they’d been until adolescence seemed to push them apart with his sudden awareness of her as a female, not just a friend.

Mamm, Daad and Becky had gathered in the kitchen as they often did in the evening. He paused, rubbing the tension at the back of his neck and trying to erase his frown before he joined them.

As usual, Mamm was piecing together a patch for one of her intricate quilts. Becky, at seventeen nearly as skilled with a needle as Mamm, had material for a dress laid out on the table. Daad sat with a last cup of coffee, the Amish newspaper on his lap.

“They’re both asleep, ain’t so?” Mamm smiled at Aaron, her soft brown eyes crinkling behind her wire-rimmed glasses. “You don’t find Anna and Lena awake and looking out the window at the stars, like you used to do.”

“Sound asleep,” he agreed. He considered a cup of coffee and decided against it. It didn’t seem to bother Daad to drink it this late, but Aaron would be staring at the stars again if he had any. “Jonah is out, is he?”

Mamm nodded, sending a slightly worried glance toward his father. Sure enough, Daad rustled the paper with a bit of irritation.

“I don’t see why the boy has to stay out so late on a weeknight,” he muttered. “We’ll have to yank him out of bed when it’s time for the morning milking.”

“Ach, Jonah isn’t that bad,” Aaron said peaceably. “He might be half-asleep, but the cows don’t mind.”

Daad didn’t seem satisfied. “Wish I knew what he was up to. He’s not near as responsible as you were when you were going through your rumspringa.”

“Funny.” Aaron grinned, catching his mother’s eye to exchange a knowing look. “I don’t recall you saying so at the time.”

“Just leave Jonah to have his fun.” Becky glanced up from her cutting, the scissors in her hand. “He’s not up to any mischief, ain’t so, Aaron?”

“That’s right,” Aaron agreed, although he knew Becky would gladly cover up for Jonah if need be. The two younger ones were so close in age that they’d formed a special bond, always looking out for each other. Much as Aaron tried to bridge it, the age gap between him and his brother was just too big for Jonah to confide in him.

Daad grunted, giving the paper a shake. “Hope you’re right, that’s all.” He let the newspaper flop down again to look at Aaron. “You know, I was thinking about Matthew Gibson going and selling his place without a word to you. Seems to me you should write to him. Just ask him what happened.”

Aaron shook his head. “It wouldn’t do any good now. The matter’s settled, from what Preston told me.”

“Well, I’d still write.” Daad’s graying beard seemed to bristle. “Must be some explanation.”

Maybe, but he didn’t feel like ruffling any feathers over it. Matt Gibson had the right to do as he pleased with his property.

Daad looked as if he intended to press the matter, but before he could say anything else, an unexpected sound crackled through the quiet kitchen, startling them. Scarlet-faced, Becky dived for the drawer of the china closet and unearthed her cell phone.

“Sorry, Daadi. I forgot to switch it off.” She turned with the phone in her hand. It was jingling a tune that was certain sure not typical for an Amish household.

Aaron fought to control his twitching lips. “Maybe you ought to see who it is,” he suggested. Daad had tried to hold out against the use of cell phones, but as Mammi had pointed out, all the rumspringa teens had them, and Jonah and Becky must learn to be responsible with temptations if they were to live Amish.

Daad had given in, with the stipulation that the phones be turned off in the house. Now he frowned at Becky as she checked the screen. She looked up, puzzled. “It’s from Nick Whiting. Why would he be calling me?”

Aaron’s nerves jumped. “Check it. It might be important.”

Becky glanced at their father, got a nod in response and clicked the phone. She held it to her ear, and Aaron saw her face lose its usual rosy color. She murmured something, clicked off and turned to him.

“Barn fire,” she said, voice shaking. “At the Stoltzfus place. He says he’ll be here for you in a minute.”

Aaron didn’t wait for more. He bolted toward the back closet where his gear was kept, grabbed it and plunged outside. By the time he reached the driveway, Nick’s pickup truck came roaring toward him, its beams piercing the dark.

Scrambling in, he braced a hand on the dash as Nick made a fast U-turn and headed back out the drive.

“How bad is it?”

“Don’t know, I just heard it’s the barn.” Nick’s expression was grim in the reflected glow from the dashboard. “If they didn’t get the animals out...”

He didn’t bother to finish. He didn’t need to. They swung onto the blacktop road, and Aaron could see it now—the red glow in the eastern sky that heralded a blaze, and someone’s livelihood going up in smoke.

“No lightning tonight,” he commented. “And Ben’s one of the most careful men I know when it comes to safety.”

Nick nodded. “Maybe this will get the state police fire marshal moving in our direction at last. Another fire can’t be a coincidence.”

“All three fires in the same area, too.” Our area. “What’s going on?”

There wasn’t any answer to that, and they raced down the road without speaking, hearing the wail of the siren in the distance.

* * *

SARAH FELT HEAVY-EYED when she walked toward the shop the next morning. No one out their way had gotten much sleep the previous night, with vehicles racing along the road, and the scream of the sirens as additional fire trucks arrived from the adjoining township. When she thought of the loss to Ben and Miriam, her heart was even heavier than her eyelids.

The first person she saw at Blackburn House was Mac, leaning against the door frame of the shop. Waiting for her? She’d already told him everything she knew about the fire she’d discovered.

“Morning, Sarah.” He straightened at her approach, giving her the mischievous smile she remembered from childhood. “Sorry to be your first customer, especially when I’m not even going to buy anything.”

“I’d faint if you did. Or maybe I’d think you were sick.” She put her key in the lock and entered the shop, turning on lights as she went.

Everything was just as she and Allison had left it the previous afternoon. How would she feel if, like Ben Stoltzfus, she’d lost something as crucial to her business as his barn was to him? Ben would put a good front on, she supposed, but gazing at the ashes of his fine big barn must be devastating.

“You look about like I feel this morning.” Mac shoved his uniform cap back and tried to stifle a yawn. “Long night for everybody.”

“At least you’re getting paid for it.” Nick came into the shop with Allison in time to hear his brother. “We volunteers do it because we’re civic-minded.”

Mac snorted. “If you think my salary covers all the extra hours, Mr. Mayor, you’re dreaming.”

Sarah smiled, knowing how Mac loved to tease his brother about his role as mayor of Laurel Ridge. “You boys behave, or I’ll tell your mother.”

For an instant Allison looked left out, not having shared a childhood with them, but then Nick put his arm casually around her waist, and her eyes lit with her love for him.

Nick focused on his brother. “Did you find anything at the fire scene this morning?”

“Are you asking me to tell official secrets?”

“No, I’m asking you to let us in on anything that half the town will know or guess before the day is out,” Nick retorted.

“True enough,” Mac said. “And what they don’t know, they’ll make up, especially when the PSP fire marshal arrives.”

“PSP?” Allison questioned.

“Pennsylvania State Police,” Nick said. “So they’ve agreed to investigate?”

Mac nodded. “The financial cost of last night’s fire, combined with the fact that it was third in a string of fires, convinced them. And the truth is, they have more expertise in investigating fires like this than anyone in the county.”

“Arson fires.” Sarah said the words they were all thinking.

“The one at Stoltzfus’s barn for sure.” Mac’s forehead wrinkled and he rubbed it, looking tired. “I’m no expert, but I found enough to convince me. I can’t prove anything one way or the other about the first two, but...”

“But three fires in a space of a few days can’t be coincidence,” Nick said. Sarah looked at him more closely, realizing that one side of his face was reddened.

“Nick, were you hurt last night? You look as if you were burned.”

“He was, but he won’t give in and go to the doctor.” Allison’s arm tightened around him.

“The doc would just tell me to use burn salve, and I can do that without advice.” The way Nick looked at Allison took away any hint of sharpness in the words.

For just an instant, Sarah felt a sharp pang of something she feared was envy. If anyone looked at her that way... She slammed the emotion down before it could catch hold.

“He’s just being macho,” Mac said. “He and Aaron King were the big heroes last night.”

Sarah’s breath caught. “What...what did they do?”

“Nothing.” Nick sent a glare of annoyance at his brother. “Aaron and I were first on scene, that’s all.”

“And the two of you rushed into the barn to try and save the animals,” Mac added.

“That was doing our job, not being heroic. Besides, Ben was trying to go in without any protective gear. I dragged him back out while Aaron opened as many stalls as he could get to.” Nick’s face turned bleak. “It was bad, hearing the animals we couldn’t reach. The loft started to collapse, and for a minute I was afraid I was going to lose Aaron. But he got out just in time.”

Sarah put a hand on the nearest table to steady herself, her heart beating so loudly she could hear it in her ears. Allison glanced at her and moved closer.

“Aaron’s all right, then?” Allison said, obviously seeing more in Sarah’s face than either of the men did.

“Burned his arm, that’s all.” Nick shook his head. “He wouldn’t have, if we had some decent protective gear. We’re using stuff we bought secondhand way too many years ago.”

He’s all right, Sarah repeated to herself. And he certain sure wouldn’t want anyone fussing over him. Besides, she didn’t have the right.

“That’s terrible.” Allison’s tone was sharp. “You’re going out risking your lives for the community. The least Laurel Ridge can do is provide the equipment you need to stay safe.”

Nick shrugged, obviously used to the situation. “Laurel Ridge is a small town, and this isn’t an affluent area. The fire company got a nice amount from the spring festival, but between repairs to the truck and replacing some equipment, it doesn’t stretch very far.”

Mac interrupted the argument that was obviously hovering on Allison’s tongue. “Listen, I have to get moving, and I still haven’t told Sarah why I came over this morning. Too many distractions.” He looked meaningfully at his brother.

“Right, okay. You need to talk to Sarah. We’ll be quiet.” Nick touched Allison’s arm lightly.

“What is it?” Sarah felt a flicker of concern.

“Nothing scary.” Mac smiled. “I expect the fire marshal to show up this afternoon. You’re one of the people he’ll want to interview, so I thought I’d give you a head’s-up in case I’m not with him.”

Sarah clasped her hands together. “Why does he want to see me? I can’t tell him anything.” And despite dealing with Englischers daily in the shop, she wasn’t comfortable with the thought of this unknown official. She’d conquered her shyness a long time ago with her own people, but outsiders were different.

“That’s how they work. He’ll talk to everyone I interviewed about the fires. Nothing to worry about. Just answer his questions the best you can, okay?”

She nodded, feeling tension in her neck as she did. “If you say so.”

“Good. I’ll come with him if I can, but he may want to interview people without me.” Apparently having fulfilled his purpose, Mac headed for the door. “I have to get back to work. I’ll see you later.”

The door closed behind him.

“Now can I talk?” Allison’s words rushed out. “We really have to think of something we can do. Both for that poor family and for the firefighters.”

“You don’t need to worry about the Stoltzfus family,” Sarah said. “Everyone is rallying around to help—lending equipment and replacing that first cutting of hay they lost. The men are already planning a barn raising.” Seeing that Allison looked doubtful, she smiled. “Really. We’ve done this before, you know. I’m not saying it isn’t a blow for Ben and Miriam, but you’ll be surprised at how quickly the barn will be replaced.”

“She’s right,” Nick added. “The Amish take care of their neighbors. It’s a lesson the rest of us could learn.”

“There’s still the problem of the fire company equipment.” Allison wore a crusading expression. “Maybe some sort of fund-raiser would work.”

Nick shrugged. “Maybe, but we just had the spring festival a couple of months ago. I’m not sure people would respond.” Seeing that Allison didn’t think much of his reaction, he added, “We ought to bounce some ideas around. I have to get back to work now, but I’ll think about it.”

“Do that.” Allison shot him a determined look. “I’ll talk to your mother. I’m sure she’ll agree that protective gear for the firefighters is crucial.”

Sarah hid a smile. Allison had gone straight for the bull’s-eye. Ellen Whiting wouldn’t be easily deterred if she thought her sons were in danger.

With a quick kiss for Allison, Nick left, heading down the hallway and to the detached workshop of Whiting and Whiting Cabinetry.

Chuckling, Sarah turned her attention to a box of fabric they hadn’t finished unpacking yesterday.

“What are you laughing about?” Allison joined her. “I’m right. We have to do something.”

“I know.” Sarah pulled out a bolt of cotton print in fall colors—orange, russet, gold and red. It might be July, but women who sewed would soon be looking ahead to the next season. “I’m just amused at how fast you figured out the Whiting family. Go to Jim for wise advice, but go to Ellen if you want something done.”

“It wasn’t hard.” Allison pulled out another bolt, and they worked in silence for a few minutes.

Sarah felt her partner’s gaze and knew she was going to speak. And guessed, too, the subject.

“You’re not worrying about Aaron, are you?” Allison was predictable. “I’m sure if the burn had been serious, the EMTs would have taken him to the hospital whether he wanted to go or not.”

“I... Was I very obvious? Did Nick or Mac notice?”

“I don’t think so.” Allison made a face. “When did you ever find a man who noticed emotional responses without being hit in the head by them?”

She had to smile at that. “I guess you’re right. It just startled me, that’s all.”

Allison’s gaze remained fixed on her face. “I don’t want to pry. I know you cared for him but he married someone else. If you’d like to talk about what happened between you and Aaron...”

Sarah shrugged. Pulling out another bolt of fabric, she held it against her, hands smoothing the chintz. “Nothing happened. Not really.”

She didn’t talk about Aaron, though it was certain sure that her family had long since guessed. But she and Allison had formed a solid bond in the few months they’d known each other, and the longing to speak about the thing she held so tightly in her heart was strong.

Allison waited.

“You know Aaron and I have been friends since we were kinder.” She smoothed her hand down the surface of the fabric again. “Friendship turned into love on my part. But not on his.”

“He seems to feel close to you,” Allison said. “Didn’t he ever give you any sign that he felt something warmer than friendship?”

Her fingers tightened on the bolt, and she avoided Allison’s eyes. “Once, maybe. When we were teens. He took me home from a singing, and I thought maybe that meant he was getting interested. But he never said anything. And then Mary Ann—”

“Mary Ann?” Allison queried. “Oh, right, the girl Aaron married.”

Sarah nodded. “She was so pretty and popular. Everyone wanted to be around her.”

“You mean all the boys,” Allison said.

“Well, you can understand it. She made a point of talking to me. She said that she really liked Aaron, and since he and I were such good friends, maybe I could give him a hint.”

“And you did?” There was so much outrage in Allison’s voice that Sarah stared at her. “Oh, Sarah. Why didn’t you let her know what you wanted? Or better yet, let Aaron know?”

“I couldn’t.”

Allison didn’t understand, but then, Allison hadn’t been brought up Amish. And she didn’t have a shy bone in her body, as far as Sarah could tell.

“It would have been impossible.” Sarah took a breath, trying to ease the tension that came with remembering. “So I told Aaron that Mary Ann was interested, and...well, it went just as Mary Ann wanted.”

Allison was silent for a few minutes, but Sarah could almost feel the thoughts teeming in her friend’s mind. They emptied the box and broke it down before she spoke.

“Aaron’s free now,” she pointed out. “Maybe it’s not too late. He’s still around. Still your friend.”

Sarah shook her head, busying herself with picking up the flattened box. “Exactly,” she said finally. “I’m a friend. He’s not likely to see me any differently now.”

“You have to give him a hint. A strong hint.” Allison leaned toward her, voice eager. “Remember what I said about men and emotions? Just start him thinking, and let nature take its course.”

“I can’t.” She put out a hand to stop Allison before she could bubble out with a list of suggestions. “Really, I can’t imagine doing it. I’m not outgoing and confident like you.”

Allison seemed to make an effort to restrain herself. “You should be. Confident, I mean. Look at all you’ve accomplished.” She waved a hand to encompass the shop and its contents—the fabrics, quilts, wall hangings, all products of women’s industry. “You might have been too shy to say what you wanted at sixteen or seventeen, but you’re a grown woman now, an accomplished businesswoman.”

Sarah’s heart was so heavy she put her hand over it, as if that would ease the weight. It shouldn’t still hurt after all this time.

“It’s true that I’d never have imagined myself actually making a success of my own business. And I’ve learned a lot along the way. But that hasn’t changed who I am inside.” She patted her chest. “In here, I’m still the same person.” She managed a smile. “Maybe it comes of being taught all my life to be humble. Whatever the reason, there are things I know I can never do, and telling Aaron how I feel about him is impossible.”

Allison pressed her lips together briefly, holding back with an obvious effort. “I won’t argue. But I do believe you’re capable of a lot more than you’ve ever thought.”

Sarah just shook her head. Allison meant well. But Sarah knew herself. To speak out—to claim what she wanted—the very thought made her stomach twist. She would have to be content with being Aaron’s friend, because she’d never have anything more.

* * *

THE STOREROOM AT the rear of Blackburn House was theoretically for the use of all the residents, but in actual fact, only the quilt shop and bookstore staff made much use of it. Sarah stacked a box on one of the metal shelves, making sure the contents were marked on the side facing front. She’d hate to become like the former bookstore owner, who’d had such a scrambled method of storing things that he’d never known what he had.

The poor man was gone now, and Emily, the new owner, was far more organized, if a bit dithery when things upset her. Sarah and Allison had become used to calming Emily down whenever business threatened to overwhelm her.

Sarah made a quick survey of their storage section, just to be sure nothing had been neglected. It wasn’t too early to start thinking about Christmas fabrics, as the crafters in Laurel Ridge would soon start working on Christmas gifts and items for the various bazaars and craft shows.

Satisfied that all was in order, she stepped out of the storage room, keys in her hand, her thoughts still occupied with possible orders, and nearly bumped into Harvey Preston, who had the real estate agency on the second floor.

“Sarah! Just the person I was hoping to see.” His round, jovial face lit with a smile. Harvey, she’d always thought, had the perfect personality to sell real estate—outgoing, optimistic and soothing to the stressed nerves of sellers and buyers.

“How are you, Harvey?” She gestured toward the door. “Were you going in?”

“No, no. I don’t have occasion to store much in there, with practically all my work done online these days.” He waited while she locked the door. “I noticed you when I was coming down the stairs, and wanted to have a word.”

“Of course.” She couldn’t help the curiosity in her tone. She and Harvey were fellow tenants, of course, but other than that they had little in common. “How can I help you?”

“I know you’re a neighbor of Aaron King. A friend, too.” He shook his head, his normally cheerful face sobering. “I suppose he told you about this business of the Gibson farm.”

She nodded, not sure what, if anything, she should say. But Harvey didn’t seem to expect a comment.

“It’s very distressing.” He fell into step with her as she headed toward the shop. “I didn’t know what to say to Aaron when he told me about the understanding he had with Matthew Gibson. I really knew nothing at all about it. If only Gibson had told me...” He let the words trail off, shrugging.

“It is a shame. And very unlike Matthew, to go back on his word to anyone.” The man she remembered had always been the soul of honor—the kind of neighbor anyone would want.

“True, so true.” Harvey nodded. “But on the other hand, his health hasn’t been all that good lately, according to the conversation we had about the property. In fact, that’s why he entrusted the sale to me, not even making the trip back to clear the house. Depend on it, he forgot all about his conversation with Aaron.”

“I’m sure that’s what happened,” Sarah agreed politely. If Harvey had been taken by surprise by Aaron’s visit, it was natural enough that he wouldn’t have thought everything through. The situation had clearly been bothering him. “The King family certainly doesn’t blame you for what happened.”

“Are you sure?” His brows drew down, and he looked as woeful as someone with his round, cheerful face could. “I feel terrible about it, but there’s simply nothing I can do. I wouldn’t want to be on bad terms with anyone over it, especially not with any of my Amish neighbors.”

Enlightenment dawned, and Sarah smiled. Harvey’s real estate agency did a great deal of business in the area, and the Amish were the primary buyers and sellers of farmland. Naturally he wouldn’t want to get a bad reputation with them.

“I don’t think you need to worry about it.” She stopped at the door of her shop. “I’m sure it’s just as you say, and—”

Allison opened the door behind her. “Sarah, you’d better come in. The state police fire marshal is here to see you.”

Harvey looked startled, as well he might, and Sarah’s stomach seemed to do a somersault. She took a steadying breath. Mac must not have come with the man, or Allison would have said. Apparently Sarah would have to deal with the investigator on her own.

CHAPTER FOUR

“SARAH, THIS IS Norman Fielding, the investigator Mac sent over to talk to you.” Allison gave her a reassuring look as she made the introduction. “I’ll just get back to work while you talk.”

The fire marshal turned out to be a diminutive man, barely her height, with the kind of wiry build that suggested he’d go on forever. Sarah guessed him to be about her father’s age, with a thin, noncommittal face and a way of looking suspiciously over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses as he took down her name and address.

“Now, then, Ms....um, Miss Bitler, I understand you were first on the scene at the initial fire.” In his clipped tones the fact sounded almost like an accusation.

“Yes, that’s right. I saw the smoke when I was driving into town that morning.” As often as she’d been over it, she’d begun to feel as if she could tell the story in her sleep.

“That’s what I was told.” He darted a glance around the shop. Allison was at the counter a few feet away, occupied with the quilt files but within easy earshot, and several women browsed through the racks. “Maybe you’d rather we talked in private,” he suggested.

Allison flicked a frowning look in her direction.

“This is fine,” Sarah said, trying to appear more at ease than she felt. “My partner knows all about what happened that day.”

She thought Fielding seemed dissatisfied, but he didn’t raise any objection. Sarah took a couple steps closer to the counter, which forced him to do the same. As Allison had pointed out a short time ago, she had gained a lot of confidence in dealing with the Englisch from running the shop. Still, her stomach seemed to churn at the idea of being questioned by this stranger and having everything she said put down in his report.

“Were you on your usual route to town?” He looked at her over the frame of his glasses. “You were coming here, I suppose?”

“Yes, that’s right. And it’s the way I normally come.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve had a look at the area. That back road wouldn’t be the most direct route from your home to the store.”

Allison stirred, as if about to speak, but she didn’t.

“I drive a horse and carriage back and forth. There’s less automobile traffic on the road I take.”

Fielding gave a rather disparaging look at her plain navy dress and apron. “That’s an Amish thing, is it?”

Sarah nodded.

Allison took a step closer, and Sarah frowned at her. Nothing would be gained by challenging the man’s apparent ignorance of Amish customs. That is, assuming it was ignorance and not prejudice.

Fielding had moved on. “Now, about the smoke you saw. Can you describe it?”

Sarah blinked. How did one describe smoke? “It was just smoke. I thought it might be from someone burning trash, but it seemed too thick for that.”

“What color? Brown? Gray? Black?” He snapped the questions at her.

Determined not to let him fluster her, Sarah took her time, trying to picture in her mind the moment when she’d first seen smoke rising above the trees.

“It was dark,” she said finally. “Dark gray or maybe black.”

“What is the significance of the smoke color?” Allison’s curiosity had apparently gotten the better of her.

Fielding eyed her for a moment before deciding to answer. “Wood burns brown or lighter gray. Black signifies the presence of gasoline or some other accelerant.”

“But...” Sarah frowned, visualizing the scene. “There wouldn’t have been any gasoline stored in an unused barn. Anyone would know better than that.”

At least, she’d think so. Gus Hill drove a rattletrap old pickup that looked as if it were held together with binder twine, but surely he wouldn’t do something so foolish as to store gas in the barn.

Fielding made a noise that might have been agreement. “Did you approach the barn once you got there?”

“I checked the cottage first, looking for the caretaker, but it was empty. Then I went to the barn. I had to be sure the caretaker wasn’t inside, you see.”

Unlike Aaron, Fielding didn’t criticize that decision. “How could you see inside? Did you open the door?”

“No, I didn’t have to. The door was standing wide open.”

He nodded, and she understood now what he was thinking. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

“The doors are usually closed. I’ve passed that barn a hundred times and never seen them standing open before.”

“Why? I mean, what’s the point of the doors being open?” Allison didn’t bother to disguise her interest.

“Someone might have left them open to allow the air to get at the fire,” Sarah said. “That would feed the flames.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.” Fielding peered at her again.

Maybe she’d better not volunteer opinions so quickly, with the investigator writing down her words.

“Anyone who burns trash knows that much,” she pointed out.

He made another note on his pad. “Could you tell where the flames were concentrated when you first got there?”

Sarah tried to put herself back in the jolting buggy, urging the frightened mare up the lane. The image rose in her mind.

“The two back corners,” she said without hesitation. “At first I thought it was just one, but then I saw the other burning, too. I remember that’s how it appeared at first, and then after I’d checked the cottage and looked again, the whole back was in flames.”

“Moving fast?” He tilted his head to one side, his eyes intent, looking like a robin that spied a juicy worm.

Sarah shivered. “It seemed so to me. When I looked in the front to see if anyone was there, the flames seemed to race toward me across the floor in kind of a narrow path.”

Fielding made a satisfied sound and jotted a few more words in his notebook. Then he snapped it shut decisively. “Good. That’s all for now, but I might want to talk to you again.”

Sarah couldn’t imagine what else there was to say, but she nodded. “I’m usually here during the day and home in the evening.”

“Don’t take any trips without letting the police know,” he said shortly, then headed for the door like a man in a hurry.

Allison waited until the door had closed behind him before she spoke. “Condescending jerk,” she muttered. “I’d have told him a thing or two about his attitude, but I knew you didn’t want me to.”

Sarah shrugged. “He probably hasn’t been around the Amish much.”

“That’s no excuse for rudeness,” Allison snapped. “You are a witness, not a suspect.”

“He probably thinks everyone is a suspect.” She frowned, uneasy. “I hope he doesn’t stir up trouble.”

“What was all that about, anyway? You seemed to understand the importance of where the fire was when you first saw it, but I didn’t.” Allison pushed a wing of coppery hair behind her ear.

“When I drove up the lane, the smoke was coming from the two back corners.” Sarah visualized the scene again. “I didn’t even realize that until he asked me the question. Don’t you see? An accidental fire wouldn’t start in two different places at the same time.”

“So that means someone started it.” Allison considered the idea for a moment. “Well, we’ve suspected it all along, so I’m not exactly shocked.”

“It means more than that,” Sarah said, her voice dragging as she saw the implications. “It means that the fire had been started a short time before I saw the smoke. So when I reached the barn, the arsonist couldn’t have been far away.”

“You didn’t see anyone? No, of course not, or you’d have said.” Allison answered her own question.

“Not a glimpse.”

Sarah had a sudden image in her mind of a faceless figure lurking in the woods, watching her run toward the barn, and her stomach turned over. He’d been there, whoever he was. He could have seen her, and she’d never known it.

* * *

“CAN WE GET any treat we want?” Lena tilted her head to one side and gazed up at Aaron as they entered the sunny interior of the coffee shop across the street from Blackburn House late in the afternoon. “A doughnut would make my arm feel better.”

Anna gave her little sister a skeptical look. “Shots don’t hurt after they’re over,” she pointed out.

“Lena was a brave girl when the doctor gave her the shots,” Aaron said peacefully. “And you were very patient to wait. So you each get a treat, so long as you promise to eat your supper when you get home.”

“I promise, Daadi,” Anna said quickly, and Lena nodded vigorously.

Ella, the cheerful Amish widow who ran the restaurant, came to the counter as they approached. “My, look at these two big girls. What brings you to town today?”

“I got my shots so I can go to school this year,” Lena announced. “And we get to have a treat.”

“That is a special event,” Ella said. “It deserves a special treat. What will you have?”

While the girls pondered, pressing their faces against the glass case to debate the merits of crullers and peanut butter doughnuts, Ella glanced at him. Her perpetually flushed face was concerned.

“Have you heard? The man from the state police is in Laurel Ridge to look into the fires. And none too soon, I’d say. The damage—”

Aaron shook his head, glancing at the girls. They’d had enough trauma in their young lives with losing their mother. He didn’t want them losing sleep fearing a fire.

Ella, stricken, snapped her lips closed and seemed to be trying to think of something else to say. He saw that Anna was watching her, apprehension lurking in her blue eyes.

“Anna and Lena. How nice to see you today.” The door closed behind Sarah, and she advanced on his daughters, smiling. “What are you doing in town?”

Lena, distracted, began to repeat the story of her injections. She even insisted on pushing her sleeve up so Sarah could see her bandage.

“You’ll be all ready for school, won’t you? And you’re so lucky.” She reached out a hand to draw Anna closer. “Because your sister is going into third grade already, and she knows everything there is to know about first grade. She can tell you all about it, ain’t so, Anna?”

Anna brightened, clasping Sarah’s hand. “Ja, that’s right.”

Aaron watched, smiling a little. What a shame it was that Sarah had never married. She’d certain sure have made a good mother, seeming to understand his kinder by instinct. He’d never pictured Sarah, of all people, being a maidal. But when he thought about who she might have married, the question stymied him. Was there anyone he’d have thought good enough for his friend?

Still chatting to them about school, Sarah got the girls settled at a table, and Ella brought them their doughnuts.

“Ach, I’m sorry,” the widow said softly, when both women came back to the counter. “I wasn’t thinking, that’s for sure. You don’t want the little ones worrying about somebody starting fires.”

“No harm done,” Aaron said. “Sarah distracted them.” He smiled at her. “What brings you to Ella’s? A late lunch?”

Sarah shook her head. “Ella has promised me a quilt her great-aunt made—for our display. So I came to pick it up and save her a trip.”

“I have it here for you.” Ella dived behind the counter and emerged with a quilt wrapped loosely in paper. “It ought to have the binding mended or even replaced, but I’m too busy in the shop to find the time.”

“It’s lovely,” Sarah said, turning back the paper to reveal a Log Cabin design, its deep colors faded to a mellow tone. “We’re happy to have it to show.” She held it so he could see.

But Aaron wasn’t especially interested in quilts, at least not at the moment. “I heard the state police fire marshal talked to you already.”

She nodded, a shadow coming over her face. He saw her glance at his arm, obviously knowing he’d been burned, but his sleeve covered it. “I guess he’s going to talk to everyone who was at the fires. He seemed convinced, I thought, that the one I saw had been deliberately started.”

“I’m not surprised. We’d figured it out already. I just hope he can find the person who’s doing it before it gets any worse.”

Sarah clutched the quilt against her, as if for comfort. “It’s terrible, wondering who it could be.”

Aaron wanted to reassure her, to say that nothing bad would happen. But how could he? None of them knew that for sure.

“We’re keeping watch,” he said, fearing it wasn’t enough. If someone was out there looking for a chance to set a fire, he’d find one.

The bell on the door jingled as a customer entered, and he recognized that cousin of Mrs. Everly’s. She hurried to the counter, and he stepped politely out of her way as she nodded at Sarah and set an oversize purse on the counter.

“A loaf of cinnamon raisin bread for my cousin,” she said to Ella. “She says she’s hungry for it.”

“Right away.” Ella beamed, happy to have her baking expertise noticed.

“How is Julia today, Donna?” Sarah asked.

“Not as good as she thinks.” The woman shook her head, pressing her thin lips together. “Like this cinnamon loaf. By the time I take it to her, she’ll have forgotten she asked for it. I’m telling you, she gets more and more confused every day. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.”

Sarah’s gentle face seemed to tighten. “I didn’t find her confused when I visited her,” she said.

“Yes, but you’re not there every day, like I am,” the woman said quickly. “You don’t know. And much as I hate to say it, having visitors just makes her worse. Anything out of the ordinary is upsetting. All I can do is keep her as quiet as possible. People should be more understanding.”

“Julia always enjoys chatting when I come by.” Sarah said the words carefully, keeping her tone mild.

But Aaron knew his Sarah well enough to recognize the annoyance lurking in her eyes, and it surprised him. Obviously her caring extended well beyond her own family.

That shouldn’t be a surprise, he told himself. Sarah was a woman now, and those qualities of kindness and caring she’d shown as a child had grown with her.

“Yes, well... I think I know my cousin best.” Seizing the loaf of bread from Ella, the woman flounced off.

Sarah looked after her, worry lines forming between her brows. “Julia didn’t seem nearly that bad the last time I talked to her. If Donna is right...” She let that trail off and shook her head. “Maybe Allison and I should drop in on Julia. She’s wonderful fond of Allison because of her friendship with Allison’s grandmother.”

“Don’t look so worried. Maybe the woman is exaggerating.” Aaron brushed Sarah’s hand with his, wishing he knew how to remove the stress from her face. “You don’t have to take care of the whole world, you know.”

Her lips seemed to tremble for an instant, and then she pressed them together. “If someone needs help, I can’t pretend it’s not my concern,” she said.

No, he supposed she couldn’t. It wasn’t in Sarah’s nature to ignore her responsibility to a neighbor, no matter who that neighbor happened to be. And he wouldn’t want to change one thing about her. His little playmate had grown into an admirable woman, and that fact battled with a startling need to protect her from discomfort.

* * *

SARAH FOUND HER thoughts returning to Julia Everly that evening. Washing dishes while Grossmammi dried and Mamm put things away, she felt more than usually thankful for family. Grossmammi would never have to think of growing old alone. She’d live and die surrounded by those who loved her, unlike Julia Everly.

Julia had friends, of course, acquired over a long life, but her tart tongue had sometimes isolated her. And Donna Edwards, a several-times-removed cousin, was apparently her only family.

Mamm flicked the dish towel at her. “What has our Sarah so silent tonight?”

“Ach, I was just listening to the two of you.” Mamm and Grossmammi had been chatting away as they always did, and no one listening to the love flowing between them would think Grossmammi was Mamm’s mother-in-law, rather than her mother.

“You listen to us every day of your life,” Grossmammi said. “You are fretting. Is it about the fires?” She lowered her voice on the last word, as if hating to say it aloud.

“No, well, not at the moment, anyway. I was thinking about Julia Everly. I ran into Donna today, and she says that Julia’s memory is failing her. I thought Julia was fine when I talked to her, but Donna seemed convinced.”

Grossmammi listened to her account of Donna’s words, her gray head tilted to one side like a tiny snowbird. Never more than an inch or two over five feet, she’d shrunk in recent years. But her eyes still held their sparkle, and her fingers had never lost their cunning with a needle.

“It does sometimes happen that a person might perk up for a visitor but show more loss to the one who cares for them every day,” she said when Sarah had finished. “Your grossdaadi was like that, remember?”

Sarah nodded. “But we were all around, so it was as if he had company all the time, ain’t so?”

Grossmammi chuckled. “That’s certain sure. And he loved it.” Her smile faded a bit. “Julia doesn’t have any kin except for Donna, so I’ve heard.”

“Donna said Julia would be better off if people didn’t drop in to see her, but that seems so wrong to me. Julia enjoys visitors. I’d think she’d be better off with more, not fewer.”

Mamm opened her mouth as if to say something and then frowned, shaking her head a little. “If her doctor thinks that...”

Her words trailed off as she glanced toward the window over the sink. “Someone’s coming. That’s Allison’s car, ja?”

Sarah put the last pot in the drainer and dried her hands. “I hope nothing’s wrong. She didn’t mention stopping in tonight.”

“I’ll put the kettle on.” Grossmammi hustled to the stove. “Allison always likes a cup of my mint tea. She says it’s soothing.”

In another moment Allison was coming in the back door, too much at home in the cozy kitchen to need to knock when she spotted them through the window. Greeted with hugs, she was soon ensconced at the long maple table with a steaming cup of mint tea, while Mamm tried to persuade her to have just a sliver of blackberry pie.

“A tiny, tiny piece,” Allison agreed, laughing. “I know what your slivers look like.”

“There’s nothing wrong, is there?” Sarah poured tea for her grandmother, as well, before sitting down.

“No, but I had an idea. You know, about needing to raise more money for the fire company.” Allison’s green eyes lit with enthusiasm. “We have to do something. I talked to Ellen, and she agrees with me.”

“We heard about Aaron getting burned,” Mamm said. “That’s bad. The boys should have what they need to do the job, ain’t so?”

“That’s what I think.” Allison sparkled, obviously sensing an ally. “Nick says they really need a new truck, as well. Their pumper is on its last legs, so they’ve been saving up to buy a good used one.”

“I don’t think there’s anything—” Sarah began, but Allison interrupted her.

“Oh, I know we can’t do everything at once, but it seems to me if we get the ball rolling, more people will understand the need and become involved.”

Mamm nodded. “That makes gut sense. Sometimes folks just have to be pushed a little.”

Sarah eyed Allison cautiously, wondering what notion she had come up with. It was sometimes a bit unnerving to have such a go-ahead Englisch partner. Allison never seemed to see obstacles, only opportunities.

“What were you thinking we might do?”

“Well, we’re already planning the antique quilt display for the shop, and I’ve been working on some ways of publicizing it. What if we expanded the idea? Got hold of a bigger place to have it, and turned it into a quilt festival? I just read an article about one out in Ohio that brought visitors in from all over, and made a lot of money besides. You know how quilters are—they can’t get enough. A display of antique quilts, combined with a sale of quilts and quilted products, demonstrations, maybe even some workshops on different techniques... I think with the right publicity, we could make much more money for the fire company.”

Before Sarah could catch her breath at this grand expansion of their original idea, she realized that both her mother and grandmother were nodding eagerly. Was she the only person who saw any flaws in that plan?

“But...that’s a very big job. It will take ages to plan and put together—”

“Not that much if we all work together.” Allison waved away her objection. “It’s all in the organization. I’ve worked on big design expos several times, and the crucial thing is to decide on a date and a place and start getting the promotion out.” She studied Sarah’s expression for a moment and smiled. “Trust me. I do know enough not to dream too big. But even a small one-or two-day event will draw in quilters ready to spend money.”

Mammi nodded. “Look at the Englisch who come to the quilters’ group and class at the shop. They wouldn’t hesitate to travel—why, some of them will drive half a day just to visit a big fabric store or see a quilting demonstration.”

“You girls aren’t going to leave us out,” Grossmammi declared. “What can we do?”

After another half hour of talking, Allison had several lists drawn up, and Sarah’s head was spinning. It was a fine idea, and she didn’t doubt her partner’s ability to plan it out. What did set her stomach churning was the thought of what Allison might decide Sarah should do. Her friend seemed to think Sarah was as brave as she was.

“Goodness, look at the time,” Mammi said, standing. “The boys should be getting to bed.”

Allison gathered her lists together. “I shouldn’t have kept you talking so long, but your input was invaluable. I’ll start working out the plans tonight, and with a little luck and a lot of cooperation, we should be able to put this on by the end of the summer.” She looked at Sarah and her lips twitched just a little. “It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sarah said with mock solemnity. “I’ll get a flashlight and walk out with you.”

The air was still when they stepped outside into the dark, and the sky was spangled with stars. Not a single cloud marred the view.

“If only it would rain,” Sarah said softly. “Everything is so dry.”

“I know.” Allison fumbled in the pocket of her bag for her car keys, and they jingled, the sound carrying in the still night. “But maybe knowing the state police are investigating will scare the firebug into hiding.”

“Maybe.” Sarah wished she could believe that, but somehow she thought he wouldn’t be so easily deterred. “But it seems to me anyone who sets fires for fun isn’t right in the head.”

Allison gave her hand a quick squeeze and then slid into the car. “I know. That is the scary aspect of it. Good night. Take care.”

Sarah stood where she was while Allison turned around, and then watched the taillights until the car disappeared onto the road at the end of the lane.

It was so quiet, the darkness so intense, that it was a relief to see the lights from the Whiting place. Jim had put a pole lamp in back, bathing the area between the house and the first of the outbuildings with its glow. But his barn, like theirs, was dark.

She took a few steps, holding the flashlight loosely in her hand, but not bothering to switch it on. As her eyes grew used to the dark she could make out the lines of each of Daad’s buildings—chicken house, brooder coop, corncrib, barn, a couple sheds. All of them wooden, all of them vulnerable. As long as she was outside, she might as well take a walk around now to be sure all was secure.

Sarah glanced to her left. Across the fields in that direction lay the King farm, and she could just make out the glimmer of the twin silos. Aaron or his daad could be out right now, doing the same thing she was. Nobody would be sleeping well until the firebug was caught.

Taking a firm grip on her courage, Sarah advanced toward the chicken house, switching on the flashlight but keeping the beam lowered. No point in stirring up the chickens when they were in their roosts for the night.

In the instant after she’d turned it on, she heard a sound—quick, low, unidentifiable. Her fingers tightened on the flashlight.

Don’t be ferhoodled, she lectured herself. You wanted to help patrol. You’re not going to back out now because you imagine things, are you?

She listened, but the sound wasn’t repeated. It had probably been one of the hens, disturbed by the unexpected light. She advanced on the henhouse, keeping the beam of her flashlight low, but aiming it into the dense shadows around the building. Nothing. Besides, if any stranger were that close, the hens would certain sure be making a racket.

Sarah moved slowly around the other outbuildings, checking each one. Daad had taken to padlocking any that could be easily locked, making her search easier. All was serene, the dry grass rustling under her feet.

Just the barn now, and her steps quickened. She’d been tempted to leave Molly out in the field tonight, but hadn’t liked to give in to the fear. Still, she’d be glad to double-check to assure herself that the mare was safe.

A sudden sound from the side of the barn made her freeze, and her heart was suddenly pounding so hard she could feel it in her chest. Biting her lip, she raised the torch, remembering in the same instant the promise she’d made to Aaron.

If you hear something, don’t try to deal with it yourself.

But she wasn’t sure. And she couldn’t go running for Daad when it might be nothing but a bird or a bat.

“Is someone there?” Somehow the sound of her own voice was reassuring. “Hello?” She aimed the light, saw something move in the shadows, and drew a breath to yell.

“Sarah? It’s just me.” Jonah King stepped into the circle of light. “You’re not going to scream, ain’t so?”

She managed a chuckle. “No, but I came close. What are you doing here, Jonah?” Aaron’s teenage brother was physically very like Aaron had been at that age, but he had a quick, changeable personality that meant you were never quite sure when he might take offense at something you said. Aaron had always been the same as he was now—steady, calm and dependable.

“I’m taking my turn to patrol.” Sure enough, Jonah sounded a bit prickly. “Daad acts like I can’t be counted on to do it right.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t think that,” she said, hoping to dampen the teen’s irritation. Jonah was at the age to be at odds with his daad, she supposed. It was hard to imagine her little brothers hitting that point, but no doubt they would. “I’m glad you’re here,” she added. “That means I don’t have to go in the barn alone.”

His slight figure seemed to straighten. “Sure, I’ll go with you. Aaron says you shouldn’t be out patrolling, anyway.”

“He does, does he?” She already knew that, but felt a surge of annoyance that Aaron had spoken to young Jonah about it. “It’s just as much my concern as anyone’s. Besides, I want to make sure Molly is okay.”

Jonah swung the door open. “You wait here while I take a quick look,” he said, a note of importance in his tone.

Sarah bit back the response that sprang to her lips. Let Jonah have his moment of masculine strength—he could probably use it if he was on the outs with his daad.

“Denke, Jonah.” She waited while he stepped inside, shining his own flashlight around the barn before gesturing to her to come in.

“Everything looks okay,” he said. “I’ll just check the loft.”

While he clambered up the ladder, she moved to Molly’s stall, crooning to her softly. The mare came to have her muzzle rubbed, whickering.

“That’s my good girl,” Sarah murmured.

Jonah scrambled down a few rungs and then jumped the rest of the way, too impatient to take every step. “All clear,” he said. “I’ll wait and close up for you.”

“I’m ready now.”

She gave Molly a final pat. Jonah seemed intent on showing how competent he was, so she let him close the barn door and double-check the latch.

Daad wouldn’t think of putting a padlock on the barn. In the event something did happen, a minute or two spent opening it could be crucial in getting the animals out. She shivered despite the warmth of the night when she thought of the cows that had been trapped in Ben’s barn.

“Thanks again,” she said, once they were outside.

Jonah nodded, switching off his light. “No problem.” With a long, easy stride, he headed off toward the lane.

Sarah watched until the darkness swallowed him up, uneasiness stirring. If Jonah was heading for home, why was he going that way? It would be much shorter to go across the fields. Shaking her head, she went back into the house.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.