Marta Perry (6 page)

Lainey had been ten the last time Meredith saw her—sent to Deer Run to stay with a virtually unknown Amish great-aunt while her much-divorced mother embarked on matrimony once again. Most Amish had kin who had jumped the fence to the
Englisch
world in search of another life, just as her father had done.

“Ach,
ja,
I had a letter from her chust last week.” Rebecca’s face brightened, her keen blue eyes shining. “She is living in St. Louis now, doing some work in advertising, she says.”

“I hope it’s something that uses her gift for drawing.” That was what she remembered most about Lainey from that summer—a vivid imagination coupled with a pencil that could create a scene in a few lines while she and Rachel looked on in amazement.

“She was
sehr gut
at drawing, wasn’t she? I remember that from the summer she was here.” Rebecca’s eyes grew misty as she seemed to look back through the years.

“I wish we’d stayed in touch. We did write for a time, but it seemed she kept moving around.” Probably Meredith should have tried harder, but life had moved on, even though that summer had never entirely faded from her memory.

Rebecca opened the drawer of the sewing cabinet that sat against the wall. “I don’t keep this out, but I like having it here where I can look at it.” She drew out a photograph and handed it to Meredith.

No, she wouldn’t keep it out. The Amish didn’t display things “for pretty” and they didn’t believe in having photographs taken. But Rebecca obviously cherished this recent image of her
Englisch
great-niece.

Lainey leaned back against a cluttered desk, her face caught in a half smile. Her mass of curly dark hair was pulled back from her face and fastened at the nape of her neck, and that was surely a drawing pencil tucked behind her ear. She wore jeans and a print tunic in vivid colors, and her silver-and-turquoise earrings dangled nearly to her shoulders. She was a far cry from the ten-year-old tomboy Meredith had known, and yet she felt she’d have recognized her anywhere.

“She’s beautiful. And she looks happy.” Meredith glanced at Rebecca, hoping she’d said the right thing.

“
Ja,
she is.” Rebecca took the picture back, caressing it with a wrinkled hand before returning it to the drawer. “I wish St. Louis wasn’t so far away.”

Not far on a plane, Meredith thought but didn’t say. It wasn’t her business whether or not Lainey visited her great-aunt.

“It would be nice to see her again.” Again she hesitated, not sure how to go on. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that summer we spent together.”

“
Ja,
because of Rachel coming home.” Rebecca nodded, obviously seeing through what she didn’t say. “The three of you were inseparable that summer, following Aaron Mast around like puppies.”

“You knew that? We thought we were being so sneaky.”

“Ach, for sure I knew it. And I knew you wouldn’t come to any harm with Aaron. He was a fine young man, even if he was foolish enough to take up with that
Englisch
girl.” Her face was touched by sorrow.

“Rachel and I were saying it seemed as if our summer ended when Aaron died,” Meredith said. “And you’re right, it was Rachel coming back to Deer Run that made me remember so much.” She forced herself to go on. “And to start wondering about what happened to Aaron.”

Rebecca eyed her with a certain amount of reserve, it seemed. “Aaron’s drowning was an accident. It was God’s will.”

That was the Amish response to sorrow. It was God’s will. She hated to mention the possibility of suicide, but if the Amish community was talking about it, surely Rebecca would have heard.

“I understand from my cousin Sarah that there’s a rumor going around that maybe Aaron killed himself.”

“
Ja,
I have heard that.” Rebecca’s gaze focused on Meredith’s face. “People are saying there was a note of some kind that Rachel found.”

Meredith nodded. Better to tell the whole thing than to talk around it. “We discovered that Aaron and Laura used to leave notes for each other behind a loose board in the covered bridge. A note was still there after all this time, but it was an anonymous one. It was written to Aaron, telling him that Laura was going to break up with him.”

Rebecca stared down at her lap, absently smoothing her apron. Then she glanced up at Meredith. “Why have you come to me?”

For a moment Meredith couldn’t speak. Then she found her voice. “People are saying that maybe Aaron was so distraught he killed himself. Sarah asked me to look into it. To try and prove that he didn’t, for her sake, and for his parents’ sake.”

Rebecca seemed to be waiting for something.

“I thought there might be something you remembered from that night,” Meredith said. “Your house has as good a view of the dam as ours does. If you saw anyone coming or going, it might help me find answers.”

Still Rebecca didn’t speak. She seemed intent on the movement of her fingers, pleating and repleating her apron. Finally she looked up.

“I did not see anything that night. Sarah and the Mast family must accept what happened as God’s will.” She sounded as if she’d made up her mind.

“Even if they never know the truth?”

“Even then. Even not knowing is trusting God.”

Somehow she’d thought Rebecca was going to say something that would lead to an answer. It seemed she was wrong.

But Rebecca wasn’t finished. She leaned forward to put her hand over Meredith’s. “It’s right for us to bear one another’s burdens. But we can’t blame ourselves for the decisions other people make.” She leaned back again, closing her lips into a firm line.

That was an odd bit of philosophy coming from an Amish woman, and Meredith couldn’t help feeling that there was something left unsaid.

But Rebecca turned the subject firmly to the proper length for the skirt, and Meredith knew that whatever Rebecca might suspect, she wouldn’t speak of it.

CHAPTER SIX

M
EREDITH
STEPPED
OUT
the back door and eased it closed behind her. Her mother had been tired from the auction, and it hadn’t taken much persuading to convince her to let Meredith tuck her into bed to watch her favorite sitcom. When Meredith checked on her a half hour later, she’d been sound asleep, the remote still in her hand.

Meredith pulled her tan jacket around her against the chill evening air and slid a flashlight into her pocket. Her mother was unlikely to wake. Still, it was wise not to switch the light on until necessary.

Going down the steps to the lawn was like descending into a dark pool. Annoyed with herself, Meredith shrugged away the image. Her eyes were adjusting already. Fitful clouds obscured the quarter moon and then moved on. She could do without the flashlight until she reached the path.

Next door, Rebecca Stoltzfus’s house was dark. Rebecca kept Amish hours—early to bed and up with the sun. Beyond her place, a glow came from Rachel’s bed-and-breakfast, most likely from the family room in the rear of the house. Colin might be there with Rachel, planning their future together although he, like Meredith, had an ailing parent to take care of.

Meredith crossed the lawn, moving more confidently as shapes emerged from the darkness—the birdbath, the circular bed of dwarf marigolds, the lawn chairs she hadn’t put away for the winter yet. She was a bit early, but Zach might be there already, waiting for her. She felt a bit like the teenager she’d been, sneaking out to meet him in the first rebellion of her otherwise responsible life.

Zach had struggled not to laugh at her nervousness the first time she’d slipped out to meet him under the screening branches of the weeping willow tree in the back yard. But when he’d seen how upset she was, he’d put his arm around her, snuggling her close, and her guilt had evaporated. She’d tried to be open about her friendship with Zach, but her mother hadn’t listened. She’d had a choice between giving him up or seeing him behind her parents’ backs, and it still surprised her that she’d found the courage to disobey.

She’d nearly reached the garage when she heard...what? Meredith froze. There had been some alien sound she didn’t expect on an autumn night, but it was gone before she could identify it. She waited, but there was no recurrence. An animal, she told herself, as afraid of her as she was of it.

The cloud passed over the moon’s face again, so Meredith switched on the flashlight, letting the light seep through her fingers. It was unlikely that Mom could spot the light from her bedroom, even if she woke and looked out, but Meredith had no desire to set anyone else in town talking.

Odd, that she and Zach had never met here when they were teenagers, probably because the dam was linked too closely in her mind to Laura and Aaron’s tragic love. Still, it made sense to talk there tonight. She could be back at the house in minutes, and no one was likely to spot them together.

Darkness gathered under the trees as Meredith reached the woods. Shivering a little, she turned the flashlight on again. Its yellow beam seemed feeble against the dark, as if the air was dense enough to repel it. Rachel had talked once of seeing a light flickering at the dam from her bedroom window. Though Rachel denied it, Meredith knew it had frightened her. They were both easily spooked by the place.

She and Lainey had sneaked out one night and followed Aaron to the dam, tiptoeing and whispering, trying not to giggle. Funny, how the giggling had died when they actually spotted Aaron and Laura. They hadn’t been kissing. They’d just been standing, looking into each other’s eyes, holding hands.

Lainey had nudged her, she remembered. They’d exchanged one look and then scurried back the way they’d come. Even then, they’d sensed that some things weren’t meant for other people’s eyes.

The path ended at the clearing. Meredith half expected Zach to be there waiting, but a quick flash of the light showed her otherwise. Well, he’d come soon. She eyed the sullen surface of the pond and fought back a shiver. She didn’t like it here.

A branch cracked, the sound as sharp as a shot in the still night air. She spun toward the path. It would be Zach.

He didn’t appear, and she moved a few steps toward the entrance to the trail. “Zach?” She kept her voice low, not eager to advertise her presence. “Is that you?”

No one answered, but a faint swish sounded, as if someone had brushed against a branch. Meredith’s fingers tightened on the flashlight. If it was Zach— But Zach wouldn’t be playing games with her.

A shiver went down her spine. Who was there with her in the dark?

The silence stretched until she couldn’t stand it. Better to move than to stand there frozen and wait for someone to come to her.

She took a few quick steps down the path, swinging the flashlight up. Something moved ahead of her, a figure, dark clothes, face invisible.

Meredith choked on a gasp, trying to focus the light on the figure’s face, trying to think which way to run—

A hand grasped hers, turning the beam of light aside. She yanked at it, unable to find her voice, she should scream, she should run—

“Was ist letz?”

At the sound of the soft Pennsylvania Dutch words the fear went out of her, leaving her limp, and she knew who it was. “Samuel? What are you doing?”

The grip on her wrist didn’t loosen, and her tension seeped back. Samuel was her cousin, but how well did she really know him as an adult? She tugged at her wrist.

“Samuel, let go.”

He ignored her words. “I must talk to you.”

“So talk.” Fear made her voice brittle. “You don’t have to scare—”

Her words were lost as Zach shot out of the dark, barreling into Samuel and yanking him away from her.

“What happened? What’s going on? Did he hurt you?” The urgency in Zach’s voice touched unexpected depths of response, and Meredith sucked in a breath before she could speak.

“I’m all right. It’s just my cousin Samuel.” She discovered she was still holding the flashlight, and she flicked it on. “Samuel, you remember Zach Randal, don’t you?” Ridiculous, to be standing here in the dark performing introductions.

Samuel gave a curt nod. “
Ja.
I remember.”

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” she prompted, every trace of fear gone now that Zach stood so close.

“To tell you something,” Samuel said. “To tell you to drop this foolishness of looking into why Aaron Mast died.”

She could only stare at him for a moment. “But...Sarah is the one who involved me to begin with. She asked me to find out.”

“She shouldn’t have.” Samuel’s voice was gruff, and she wished she could see his face more clearly.

“She wants to be at peace about Aaron,” she said. “You and Sarah have always been so close. You must understand that.”

Even in the dim light she could see his face tighten as if in pain. “No. Sarah will be better off if she never knows the truth.” He turned away, brushed past them and disappeared down the path.

* * *

Z
ACH
DECIDED
HE
’
D
be better off not looking too closely at why he’d reacted so strongly when he’d seen that dark figure looming over Meredith. “Look, maybe we should put this conversation off. If you’re upset—”

“I’m fine. Samuel just startled me, that’s all. He certainly didn’t mean to scare me.”

“You sure of that?” He reached out to touch her arm and then thrust his hand into his pocket instead.

“Positive.” She seemed to be trying hard to convince herself. “I’ve known him all my life. He was practically Sarah’s shadow since they were so close in age.”

“He’s a man now.” Big, hefty, with the kind of muscles men developed when they did hard physical labor every day.

Meredith seemed to shrug that off, or maybe she didn’t catch his meaning. She glanced toward the house, visible from where they stood. “We’d better go. I don’t want to be out too long.”

Zach followed her through the trees toward the dam, his memories of the place hazy. It was funny that the local kids hadn’t hung out there, even when he was a teenager. Nobody talked about it—they just didn’t go there.

His foot kicked something that rattled metallically, and he bent to pick up a beer can. Maybe times had changed. He tossed it into a thicket of brambles.

They stepped from the band of trees into the clearing by the pond, and Zach swung the beam of his flashlight around. The water flowing over the three-foot-high dam made a ruffle of white even in the dimness, and the pond was an ominous patch of darkness beneath it. But even as he thought that, the moon slipped from behind the clouds and laid a silvery path across the water.

Meredith made her way to a rough wooden bench. He sat down next to her and patted it. “Was this always here?”

“It’s fairly recent. Colin McDonald’s dad comes down here to fish since he retired, so Colin knocked this together to give him a place to sit.”

He remembered Colin from school. One of the “in” crowd—the kind of person who had it easy. Like Jake, his father had had a business all ready for him to step into.

“I hear Colin’s running the real estate office now,” he said, keeping the rest of his thoughts to himself.

Meredith nodded, staring out at the pond. “It wasn’t exactly what Colin had in mind for his life, but after his mother died, his dad started to go downhill quickly, so Colin came home to take charge.”

Maybe even the golden boys like Colin didn’t always get everything they wanted. He studied Meredith’s face, relaxed now. He didn’t want to bring the strain back to her expression, but he wasn’t satisfied with her explanation of Samuel, not by a long shot.

“Look, we need to talk about your cousin. What was he doing sneaking around here at night if he just wanted to deliver a message?”

“Avoiding my mother.” Meredith turned from her study of the pond to focus on his face instead. “Like us. Maybe you don’t remember, but my mother prefers to ignore the Amish side of the family.”

“Not posh enough for her?”

“Something like that. Anyway, I did see him at the auction today, but he had his family with him, and he wouldn’t have been able to talk without them hearing. He probably intended to come to the back door and attract my attention, but saw me out here.”

That made sense. It was what they were doing, after all. Avoiding Margo King was apparently a popular sport in Deer Run.

“Why wouldn’t he want you to do what Sarah asked?”

Meredith’s forehead wrinkled with concern. “I don’t know, unless he’s afraid that Sarah will be even more upset by the answers, assuming I actually find any. He’s always been protective of her.”

“What was his relationship with Aaron?”

Meredith blinked. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing. Relax. I’m not accusing your cousin of anything. I’m wondering if he knows more than he’s saying, that’s all. Would Aaron have confided in him?”

She seemed to accept that at face value. “I wish I knew. Obviously I’ll have to talk to Sarah again.” She ran her hand back through her hair, pushing it behind her ear in the familiar gesture. “I can’t do it tomorrow, because Sarah is busy with church and family on Sunday. Monday I have to be in Williamsport on business, but I can stop and see her on the way back.”

“I thought you worked from home.” Where her mother was a constant interference, he’d guess.

“Mostly, yes, but I have to make some site visits. I’m doing an employee health and welfare handbook for a new client, and that means spending hours at the company.”

“You like doing that?” She didn’t sound especially enthused.

“It’s not my favorite part of the job, no. I’d rather work with figures.” Her smile flickered. “They’re easier to understand.”

He studied her face. Was this life really what she wanted? “Why here?” he said. “With your skills, you could work anywhere. Why Deer Run?”

“Why not Deer Run?” She said it lightly, but her eyes evaded his. “It’s home.”

“I remember a girl who dreamed of seeing the world. What happened to her?” A girl who had encouraged him to dream big plans for the future. He remembered that, as well.

Her expression didn’t change, but he thought she winced very slightly.

“She grew up.” She turned, looking out at the water again, and linked her hands around her knee. “I was in my freshman year of college when my father got sick. Mom couldn’t cope, so I had to come home.” Her voice trembled a little on the words, and she seemed to steady herself. “He wanted to die at home, so I had to make that work.”

“You. Not your mother.” That was Margo, shoving her responsibility off on her daughter.

“She has a heart condition. She couldn’t manage.” Defensiveness threaded Meredith’s voice. “Anyway, I wanted to.” Her lips pressed together for a moment. “He left everything to me, and he asked me to promise I’d take care of my mother, just as he had.”

Zach wanted to rage at her—to insist that John had had no right to ask her to give up her life for Margo’s sake. But he knew it wouldn’t do any good. She was held here as tightly as a princess in a tower, shackled by her own sense of responsibility.

Meredith straightened, seeming to feel there was nothing else to be said on that subject. “What about Jeannette? Were you able to get anything out of her about my dad?”

“Not much. She doesn’t trust me—no reason why she should. Even when I hinted that I had reason to dislike your father, she didn’t say much.” And what she did say would only make Meredith feel worse.

“Was that really necessary?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Can you think of a better way to get her talking? She was ready to believe I’d come back nursing a grudge for the way I was treated here.”

Meredith studied his face. “That would be a logical assumption.”

“Only if I were still a love-struck kid,” he said deliberately.

Meredith drew back. “What exactly did Jeannette say to that? You may as well tell me. I can see there was something.”

His jaw clenched. So he’d hurt her with his comment to push her away from the subject, but he was still going to have to tell her.