Marta Perry (9 page)

He shrugged. “Not without a high school diploma.” Which her mother’s accusations had scuttled. “When I left Deer Run, I was ripe for any kind of trouble. Hitched my way to Pittsburgh, where I fell in with a gang of guys who were about as angry as I was. We got involved in some petty crime. Then they decided to rob a construction site.”

He fell silent, remembering how he’d felt. Reluctance at doing something so irrevocably against the law had fought with his need to belong somewhere.

“You did that?” Shock laced Meredith’s voice even though she probably tried to prevent it.

“Not exactly. Oh, I went with them. They really weren’t very good at it. We got caught almost immediately by a night watchman. One of the guys took a swing at him, and the next thing I knew, they were all ganging up on this old man. I thought they were going to beat him to death.”

He didn’t like remembering that moment, seeing Joe lying on the ground, his head bleeding, someone’s leg drawn back to kick him... “So anyway, I jumped in. Fought them off long enough for the man to radio for help.”

He risked a glance at Meredith, not seeing any condemnation in her eyes.

“You saved him.” She didn’t even sound surprised.

“Yeah, well, I ended up arrested for my trouble. But Joe—that was his name, Joe Tedrow—was a retired cop. He had a lot of friends on the force, and he wouldn’t give up on me. Got me out of jail, got the court to wipe my record clean, gave me a place to live. He badgered me until I went back to school.”

“He sounds like a remarkable man.”

“Yeah, he is.” He couldn’t talk about what Joe had done for him without his throat turning to gravel. “So I ended up wanting to be a cop like him. He still claims he knew I was meant for the job from the minute he saw me.”

Meredith didn’t speak for a moment. “It sounds as if life gave you a new father, as well as a new chance.”

“Maybe so.”

Meredith was the only one he’d even talked like this to, and the only one who understood. He’d never met another woman who could do that, and eventually he’d stopped trying.

She seemed to sense his feelings, because she didn’t ask any questions. She leaned forward a moment later, pointing to an even narrower road to the right between two pastures. “That way. It’s only a couple miles.”

He nodded, making the turn. “Anything else turn up since the last time we talked?”

“N-no, not exactly.”

“Not exactly what? Are you going to make me drag it out of you?”

“No.” Her smile flickered. “Something a little odd did happen last night.” She paused, seeming to organize her thoughts. “I had gone over to Rachel’s, and I was coming home across the backyards when I thought I heard something, but it was nothing. Just a couple of raccoons trying to get into my neighbor’s trash cans.”

“If that was all that happened, you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Well, no. It was probably my imagination, but it felt as if someone was watching me.” She sounded as if she were trying to reassure herself. “But then when I went in the house, my mother almost hit me with the broom.”

“What? Why?” He nearly veered off the road.

“She said she heard someone outside. She was convinced someone was out there, but I persuaded her it was just me, chasing the raccoons away.”

He eyed her face, hands gripping the wheel. “You don’t think so.”

“When I looked out the kitchen window a few minutes later, I saw a light moving through the trees down by the dam. Someone was there with a flashlight.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” He was instantly alarmed at the thought that she might have tried to investigate on her own.

“I...I thought that would be making too much of it. I mean, we don’t own the area around the dam, just the path that leads down to it. Anyway... Well, I didn’t. And I wasn’t about to go check it out alone.”

“I’m glad you had that much sense.” Why couldn’t she just have called him? He could have been there in a couple minutes.

She looked annoyed at his comment. “I decided I’d work in my office, where I could hear anyone who came past on the driveway. But no one did.”

He considered that. “It’s not the only way to get to the dam. Just the easiest one.”

“True.” She nodded, pointing to a lane that branched off to the right. “There’s the farm.”

The lane was wider and better tended than he’d expected, probably because the milk trucks used it.

“There’s another explanation,” he said, drawing up at the end of a long line of parked buggies and a few cars. “Someone could have intentionally kept quiet going by so that you wouldn’t hear him.”

He’d rather he hadn’t thought of that, because it put an unpleasant image in his mind—an image of Meredith, sitting at her computer in a lighted room, in full view of anyone out in the dark. Of someone standing out there, watching her, before creeping silently away.

CHAPTER NINE

M
EREDITH
SLID
OUT
of the car, taking a deep breath of crisp fall air and freshly cut wood. Being in the car alone with Zach even for the short ride to Sarah and Jonah’s farm was disturbing to her equilibrium. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him to come today, but the urge to have a little more time with him before he left had overcome her better judgment.

Well, this was business, in a way. It would give Zach a better sense of the complex web of Amish relationships as well as give her the opportunity to question Samuel.

“Wow.” Zach stood next to her on the lane, staring at the raw framework of the barn. Already it towered skyward, the bare ribs giving an impression of power. Men swarmed over it like ants, almost indistinguishable in their black pants, solid-colored shirts and straw hats.

“They’ll have started hours ago,” she said. “My onkel Simon, Sarah’s father, is generally recognized as the person in charge of design. He’d have laid it out last week, so they could be ready to start at dawn. That’s him over there, by the apple tree.” She gestured toward the lanky figure who surveyed the workers with a practiced eye.

Zach glanced at her uncle, then at her. “He’s your dad’s brother?”

She nodded. “They were always very alike in looks, though Dad didn’t have the beard, of course.” Simon’s beard was down to midchest now, and more gray than brown, but otherwise he’d changed very little over the years.

“If you want to help with the work...” she began a little tentatively, not sure Zach realized what he’d gotten himself into when he’d agreed to come today.

“Sure. I’ve pounded a few nails in my time. As long as someone tells me what to do, I’ll be fine.”

“Sarah will expect me to help with the lunch now, so I won’t have a chance to corner Samuel until later.” She started walking toward the house, and Zach fell into step beside her.

“I didn’t realize you were so involved with your dad’s Amish relatives,” he said.

“It was harder when I was younger,” she admitted. “My mother made it...well, difficult.”

“And now?” His glance was questioning.

“She knows I’ll come anyway, so we both pretend she doesn’t know about it.” It was one of the compromises she made to keep the peace, but it sounded a little ridiculous to say it out loud.

“Your mother hasn’t forgiven them for objecting to your parents’ marriage?”

“That’s part of it.” She hesitated, but Zach knew so much about her family that there was no reason not to speak. “She looks down on the Amish. Thinks they’re somehow inferior socially.” It sounded even worse said out loud. “It doesn’t make sense, but that’s how she is.”

“Trust me, nobody knows that better than me.” His smile was wry, and he shook his head when she would have spoken. “Don’t apologize.”

She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. She’d inadvertently reminded Zach that Mom had felt the same about him.

Sarah came hurrying to meet them, smiling. “Meredith, Zach,
gut,
you’re here.
Wilkom, wilkom.
”

“Thanks for inviting us.” Meredith gave her cousin a quick hug. “Zach’s ready to go to work.”

“Ja?”
Sarah seemed to size him up. “
Komm.
We’ll talk to Daad. He’ll give Zach something to do.”

She led them toward the apple tree where her father stood. Simon beamed, bending to plant a kiss on Meredith’s cheek.

“Ach, it has been too long since I’ve seen you.”

Meredith’s throat tightened. “For me, too.”

“This is Zachary, Daadi,” Sarah said, shoving Zach forward. “Meredith’s friend. He’s here to help.”

“Ja?”
Onkel Simon sized him up with much the same look Sarah had had. “You know how to use a saw and a hammer?”

Zach nodded. “I worked construction one summer. Hope I know enough to be of some use.”

“Gut.”
Onkel Simon gave a short nod. “We’ll get you started.”

There was no chance to remind Zach not to ask questions about Aaron. She tried to put a warning in the glance she sent him, but he looked back blandly.

Sarah caught her arm. “
Komm.
These men will be wanting lunch before long. You can talk to Zach again later.”

Meredith eyed her cousin as they headed for the kitchen. “You’re not matchmaking, are you?”

Sarah’s blue eyes twinkled. “Maybe a little. Somebody needs to, ain’t so? Here’s your first love come back to town. You can’t pretend you don’t feel anything.”

“I hoped it didn’t show.” That was probably a futile hope, especially with those who really knew her, like Sarah and Rachel. “Even if I do feel something, it’s still complicated. We’ve both changed.”

“That can happen,” Sarah said. “I know now that Aaron wasn’t the one for me. Sometimes the first love is just meant to get you ready for the real thing. But sometimes it is the real thing. If it is, just be sure you don’t let it slip away.”

Meredith followed her gaze toward the barn. Zach was working beside Jonah, the two of them hammering in unison, it seemed. Zach looked as if he belonged, despite his jeans and T-shirt.

But he didn’t, any more than he belonged in Deer Run. So she’d better concentrate on how she was going to talk to Samuel and stop wishing for the stars.

It was one thing to decide to confront Samuel and another to find the time to do it. Meredith was caught up in lunch preparations immediately, talking all the while with cousins and second cousins and others whose relationship was more distant on the family tree but recognized, nonetheless.

The other women switched effortlessly from Pennsylvania Dutch to English in her presence, as they always did. She had a rudimentary understanding of the language, but she’d never be able to keep up with the quick exchange of gossip, allusions and teasing that went on among women who’d known each other all their lives.

Sarah handed her a platter of sandwiches to carry out to the table in the yard and then took a second look at her face. “Something is wrong?”

Meredith shook her head. Given the tangle her emotions had been in lately, she was glad to know one solid truth. “Just thinking how fortunate I am to have family like you.”

Sarah’s quick smile lit her face. “We are wonderful glad that you are part of our lives. Onkel John would be pleased.”

Meredith nodded. Her father would be happy, and maybe a bit relieved, to know that the bonds he’d fostered for her with his family were still strong.

Meredith joined the exodus of women and girls from the kitchen, carrying food out to the tables. She’d been to enough of these things to know the routine. The men and boys who were working on the barn would be served first, so they could get back to work. Then the women would settle down to have a leisurely meal before cleaning up.

The lunch break finally gave Meredith the opportunity she’d been watching for. Zach stood talking with a knot of men that included Onkel Simon, Jonah and a few others. Samuel was alone by the barn, bending over a stack of boards.

With a murmured excuse, she slipped away from the table and approached him, waiting until she was at his elbow to say his name.

“Samuel.”

He jerked at the sound of her voice, fingers closing on a plank, and he hefted it to his shoulder before turning to face her. “I must get back to work.” His gaze didn’t meet hers.

“The others aren’t ready to start yet,” she pointed out. “You can spare me a few minutes, can’t you?”

He looked faintly mulish, but he nodded. “What is it?”

She’d have to be blunt and quick, or he’d be gone, she suspected. “Sarah told me that you were Aaron’s best friend when you were teenagers.”

“
Ja,
I guess. What of it?” He was just short of belligerent.

“You know how much it means to her to know Aaron didn’t kill himself. If you’d just tell me about him—”

“Nothing I can tell you will help one way or another.” He took a step away, and she stopped him by grabbing his arm.

“Come on, Samuel. You can at least tell me what his mood was those last few days before he died. Was he upset? Did he think Laura was going to break up with him?”

Samuel’s eyes widened slightly, just for an instant, before he looked with a show of impatience at the ladder that leaned against the barn. “I don’t know. He knew I thought he was
ferhoodled,
getting involved with an
Englisch
girl like that. So he wouldn’t tell me.”

Something about her question had surprised him, Meredith felt sure. But what? Surely it was a question he’d have expected. Frustration gnawed at her. Zach would be doing this much better.

“You must have had some idea of what he was feeling, even if he didn’t talk to you about Laura,” she persisted. “What did you feel when you heard he’d been found drowned? You must have wondered how it could happen.”

Samuel’s arm relaxed slightly under her hand, as if he no longer felt an urgent need to get away from her. “
Ja,
well, I thought it was odd. Aaron was sensible, not like some of them
Englisch
kids. He didn’t take stupid chances. So how did he come to drown? He knew that creek like the back of his hand.” A thread of anguish wove through Samuel’s words, as if the pain was still fresh after all these years.

“You don’t think it was an accident, then.”

Samuel yanked his arm free, glaring at her. “I didn’t say that. I think it is best left alone, before it causes still more trouble.”

“Sarah wants to know the truth, whatever it is.”

“Sarah is wrong,” he said flatly. “But I’ll tell you one thing. It never would have happened if Aaron had stayed with his own kind. You should take a lesson from that. Stay with your own kind. You’re not one of us, and you never will be.”

He spun away from her, the long plank he carried swinging out, missing her head by inches as she ducked away. Samuel was up the ladder and out of sight in the rafters of the massive barn by the time she could take a breath.

Zach raced across the lawn and grasped her by both arms. “Did he hit you? Are you all right?” His voice was low but urgent, his concern washing over her in a warm wave.

“It was nothing. The plank never touched me.”

“No thanks to him.” Zach swung toward the ladder, and Meredith grabbed him.

“Don’t.” She lowered her voice to a whisper with a quick glance around. “No one else noticed. Don’t make a scene.” Clearly Zach had been watching her with Samuel when she’d thought him absorbed in conversation.

“Maybe a scene is just what’s needed.” Zach ground out the words. “Did he tell you anything before he nearly brained you with that board?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “He insisted he didn’t know anything—that Aaron didn’t talk to him about Laura because Samuel didn’t approve of Aaron’s relationship with an English girl.”

“Did you believe him?” Zach’s dark gaze probed her face.

“Not entirely.” She said the words slowly, trying to recover the feelings she’d had in the moment. “I asked him if Aaron thought Laura was going to break up with him. After all, that’s the idea that started the rumors he might have killed himself.”

“And?” Zach sounded as if he was thinking he’d have made a better job of it.

“It wasn’t his answer that was odd.” She struggled to put her finger on the cause of her uneasiness. “It was more his reaction to the question. As if he’d expected me to ask something else. But I don’t know what it would be.”

Zach looked up at the barn, but Samuel was no longer visible. “We have to talk to him again.”

“I don’t know if that’s even possible.” She seemed to hear again Samuel’s final words. Apparently Sarah had been wrong. Not everyone in the family thought Meredith had a place here.

Zach studied her face, frowning. “Look, Meredith, I know these people are important to you, but one thing is clear. Cousin or not, Samuel isn’t behaving like an innocent man. He’s acting like a person who has something to hide.”

“I’m sure he’s just trying to protect Sarah,” she said, but she wasn’t sure at all, and she was afraid that showed in her voice.

“Maybe.” Zach was grim. “And maybe his disagreement with Aaron over Laura turned violent. Did you ever think of that?”

She hadn’t. But now that Zach had said the words, she suspected she wouldn’t be able to stop.

* * *

A
S
SHE
’
D
IMAGINED
, Meredith couldn’t stop thinking of the situation with Samuel as they drove back toward Deer Run later. Zach had to be wrong about Samuel. He had to be. The cousin she knew could never have harmed his friend, even unintentionally. The Amish prohibition against violence was engrained so deeply that even a teenager—

The car slowed, tires crunching on gravel, and Meredith looked up, startled. Zach had pulled into the parking lot of the county park.

“What are you doing?” She glanced at her watch. “I should get home.”

“Your mother can do without you for another half hour.” Zach switched off the ignition and slid out, then looked back at her. “Come on. We need to talk, and I’m not going to do it while driving. Let’s take a walk.”

A little shiver went down her spine, and she wasn’t sure whether it was apprehension or anticipation. She got out and followed him to the head of the path that led in a gradual slope toward the creek.

Zach started down the path, and after a moment’s hesitation, she followed him.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” she said to his back.

“I remember a bench by the stream. Is it still there?” He tossed the question back over his shoulder.

“I think so.” She hadn’t been down this way in some time, although it had been a popular hiking trail when she was younger.

The path emerged into the cleared area by the creek, leveling out and continuing on for another hundred yards or so before curving up into the woods. Zach caught her hand and pulled her onto the rustic bench that overlooked the water.

“This is better.” He half turned to face her, propping his elbow on the back of the bench so that his hand was an inch or so from her shoulder. “Now, talk to me. What has you so upset?”