When Secrets Strike

“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?”