by Marta Perry
He snapped the phone closed, a new energy seeming to charge his body. “That list of charges just got longer. The van was stolen this afternoon from over in New Holland. They found it abandoned about two miles down the road. No sign of the driver.” He was out of the house almost before they could say goodbye.
“Ach, he’s gone without his pie,” Mamm noted mournfully, not liking it when any visitor to her house left without being fed.
“Teenagers,” Daad said, with an air of finality. “That’s what he’ll find. Some Englische teenagers stealing a car for a joyride.”
“Maybe so,” Jacob murmured, but he sent a worried look in Sarah’s direction.
She understood what he was thinking. The incident with the horses last night, now the buggy crash today. Either one of those things might have injured her enough to keep her away from work.
Well, if that was the case, the guilty person would be disappointed. Thanks to the new locks Jacob had installed, no one would get into the Strickland house unless she let them in.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MAMM HAD BEEN URGING HER to go to bed since the police chief left, but Sarah managed to evade her.
“I’m all right, Mamm.” She bent to press her cheek against her mother’s. Mamm was sitting with her mending in her lap, but hadn’t yet taken a stitch. “Really. I’d rather do something.”
“Play Chinese checkers with us?” Emma asked, her tone hopeful. She was poised by the stack of games on the bookshelf, ready to pull the game out.
“Ja, that’s a gut idea.” Sarah smiled at her little sister. “That will get my mind on beating you.” She knew she’d said the right thing when the lines in Mamm’s face relaxed.
“Set it up,” Sarah instructed. “I’ll be back in a minute, soon as I tell Jacob something.”
She hurried toward the kitchen, listening to her sisters squabbling good-naturedly about who would go first. The door was closing behind Jacob, but he must have heard what she’d said, because he was waiting on the porch when she got there.
The evening had turned chilly, and she drew her shawl around her. Jacob leaned against the porch railing, his face a pale oval in the dim light. She didn’t need to see him to know that he was waiting for her to speak.
Now that she was here, she didn’t know what to say. That moment after the accident, when she’d clung to him, pressing her body against his… Her face flooded with heat at the thought of it. She had to say something to put that in its proper perspective and return things to normal between them. She just didn’t know what.
“Mamm is determined to send me to bed,” she said finally. “You’d think I had a cold instead of a few bumps and bruises.”
“She loves you.” His voice sounded deep, coming at her out of the dark. “She was scared, that’s all.”
“Daad’s got a bee in his bonnet about Englische teenagers,” she said, not wanting to think about being scared. “He’s sure that’s who is responsible.”
“He hasn’t forgotten about the kids who splashed the red paint on the barn last year, ain’t so?”
She could hear the smile in his voice, and she found it soothing. Daad had forgiven those kids, of course, and his solution had been to paint the whole barn red.
“Well, I guess he could be right in this case,” she stated. “Taking a car, going for a joyride—that’s the sort of thing teenagers would do.”
“Do you think that, Sarah, or are you trying to convince yourself?”
She shook her head, moving to the railing to stand next to him. “If it was deliberate, I’d think the driver would have done worse than sideswipe us.”
“Not if he just wanted to convince you to stay at home instead of going to the Strickland house.”
She tilted her head to look up at him, remembering the summer he’d suddenly shot up to become taller than she was. “Is that what you want me to do?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, and then he shrugged. “Maybe so, but you won’t, ain’t so?”
She thought there was a note of frustration in his voice, and knew that was exactly what he wanted.
“You are the one who suggested I go, Jacob.” She couldn’t help sounding defensive. “If there is a clue to why Mr. Strickland died in that house, I am the most likely person to find it.”
“Ja, I said that.” His words were heavy, as if weighted down with his worry. “But that doesn’t mean I can stop fretting.”
“You should. After all, you’re the one who put new locks on all the doors. No one can get in now, and I will be careful.”
Jacob’s hands clenched the railing, and she could feel tension coming off him in waves. “That’s not enough. I should see about taking time off work to help you. You’d get it done faster, and I’d be there with you.”
Annoyance flared up in her, a welcome relief from the remnants of fear. “I am not in need of a babysitter, Jacob. You seem to forget that I am all grown up.”
“Grown up? Then why do you sound like a stubborn little girl?” He seemed as annoyed as she was.
“I do not.” As soon as she said it, Sarah knew this kind of argument was the last thing she wanted. She wanted…
Jacob grasped her shoulders. For an instant she thought he was going to shake her.
And then he drew her toward him and kissed her. His lips were firm and warm, and after the initial shock she felt herself lean into the kiss, wanting to put her arms around him, to hold him close—
But almost before she could think, he’d pulled away, turning to take the porch steps in one long stride, and vanishing into the dark.
* * *
SARAH’S MOTHER HAD already planned to drive her to work the next day, to Sarah’s great relief. After a sleepless night, she was still too uncertain of her own mind to want to face Jacob again so soon.
Fortunately, Mamm was too busy with her own plans to notice Sarah’s preoccupation. A basket filled with sticky buns fresh from the oven sent a tantalizing aroma wafting around the two of them as they rode. Sarah hadn’t felt much like eating breakfast, but the smell of those sticky buns would tempt a marble statue.
“I hope your aunt remembered to make arrangements for the taxi,” Mamm said, always fretting over any plans she hadn’t carried out herself.
“I’m sure she did. If not, Cousin Barbara will have reminded her.”
The taxi wasn’t really a taxi, of course, just a car driven by an elderly Englischer who was willing to take the Amish places they couldn’t get by horse and buggy. The church had no rules against riding in a car, only against owning one yourself, because that made it too easy to be running around away from your family.
This trip to the big fabric store in a nearby town had been in the planning stages for a month, it seemed. Sarah’s mother and three friends would shop and then have lunch at a restaurant to celebrate Cousin Barbara’s birthday. Afterward, Mamm intended to wait at Aunt Mary’s until Sarah was ready to go home.
Her sister, Mary, their cousin Barbara and Jacob’s mamm had been Mamm’s dearest friends since the four of them had been born, practically. The same age, they’d finished school the same time, of course, and had even married the same year.
That was how things were in the Amish community. Friendships didn’t change from moment to moment, as Sarah sometimes thought they did in the Englische world. Your closest friends were there for life.
Which made that kiss from Jacob all the more inexplicab
le. And made her reaction to it even less understandable. She’d thought about it half the night, and dreamed about it when she finally fell asleep.
She and Jacob were like brother and sister. They always had been since they were born within a month of each other and lived next door to each other, that was only natural. Especially after his daad had passed and Jacob began working in the machine shop.
Sarah saw him every day of her life. How could she start thinking of him as anything other than a brother?
But there’d been nothing brotherly about that kiss last night. She touched her fingertips to her mouth, seeming to still feel the imprint of Jacob’s lips.
At least she had a quiet day of work ahead of her. Maybe somehow her feelings would become clear.
Mamm pressed a couple of wax-paper-wrapped sticky buns in her hand once she’d climbed down at the house. “Have those for a snack. And chust walk over to Mary’s when you’re done, ja?”
“I will, Mamm. Danki.” Clutching the warm rolls, she waved to her mother and hurried up the walk.
Hank came around the back of the house toward her as she approached the door, almost as if he’d been watching for her. “Hi, Sarah. Wow, something sure does smell good.” He eyed the rolls.
“My mamm’s sticky buns.” The new key stuck at first, but then turned and the door swung open. “Would you like to have one?” She could hardly not make the offer, since he was standing right there.
“That’d be great.” He hesitated, glancing at the open door. “Maybe I’d better eat it out here.”
True, she wasn’t supposed to let people in unless Leo approved of them. But what harm could it do for Hank to come into the kitchen? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been there a hundred times before. Besides, she’d be right there to make sure he didn’t take anything out of the house.
“You’ll have sticky syrup all over you if you do. Komm, please.” She went in, setting the package and her keys on the shelf while she took off the jacket she’d worn against the early morning chill.
“That’s nice of you.” Hank followed her to the kitchen. “I’m not much of a cook, so mostly I eat macaroni and cheese from a package. Or peanut butter sandwiches.”
“This is better.” She put one of the buns on a plate and handed it to him, then filled a glass with cold water, sticky buns not being something you’d want to eat without a drink. “My mother baked these fresh this morning.”
Hank took a huge bite, and a blissful expression spread across his face. “That’s the best thing I ever tasted.” His words were muffled by the syrupy treat, and she had to smile.
“I will save mine for later, once I have some work done.” She rewrapped the remaining rolls and set them on the counter.
“That reminds me why I wanted to see you this morning,” Hank said. “I have to stop by the store after my classes. To get some more peanut butter.” He gave that boyish grin. “I thought you might need some cleaning supplies. I’d be glad to pick anything up for you.”
“That is sehr kind of you.” She opened the cabinet where cleaning supplies were stored. “Actually, you could get me another bottle of window cleaner.” She held up the half-empty bottle. “And a package of paper towels.” There would be plenty of cleaning to do once she’d finished sorting and packing, and she must be sure the house was in tip-top shape before it was turned over to the historical society.
“Will do.” Hank stuffed the last of the roll in his mouth and drained the glass of water. “I’ll be off, then. If you’re not here when I get back, I’ll leave the things on the side porch.”
“That will be fine.” She’d probably be here, unless he was running very late, but in any event, no one would bother a grocery bag on the porch.
Sarah saw him out, carefully locking the door behind him. She’d certain sure not want to be in here without knowing the doors were locked.
A while later she was deeply engrossed in cleaning the study when the doorbell rang, setting up echoes in the empty house. Her hand jerked, sending a stack of old photographs toppling to the floor.
Foolish, she told herself, starting down the stairs. Jumping that way at an unexpected sound. It was good no one had been around to witness her reaction.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could see Leo Frost through the glass in the front door. Relieved, she hurried to open it. She’d be glad to turn the extra keys over to him.
He stepped inside, scanning her face with a worried expression. “Are you all right, Sarah? I just heard about the accident with the buggy yesterday. You shouldn’t have come in to work today.”
“I am fine, and Jacob is, as well. We weren’t hurt at all. Even Bess was only scared.”
Some of the worry left his face. “I’m relieved that all three of you are safe, but it must have been very frightening.”
“Ja.” She didn’t want to relive those moments. “I’m glad to have work to do today. It takes my mind off the accident.”
“Chief Byler told me that the car was stolen.” Leo shook his head. “At the risk of sounding like an old fogy, I sometimes find myself longing for the days when things like that happened in the outside world, not here.” He dusted his hands together, as if wiping off the world’s influence. “So tell me how the work is coming. Is there anything you need?”
“I asked Hank to pick up some window cleaner and paper towels for me. I hope that is all right.”
“Of course, of course. I should have told you to go ahead and purchase any supplies you need. Just save the receipts for me.”
She nodded, glad she hadn’t done anything wrong by giving Hank the errand. “I finished sorting and packing the china from the dining room. I left the silverware in its chest, because I didn’t know what you wanted done with it.”
“Just leave it for the moment,” he said, taking a tablet from his briefcase and making a note. “I’ll have to arrange to have it valued.”
She nodded. “And I’ve begun work on the study. I left any papers for you, but there are so many other things—souvenirs from trips, old Christmas cards, his photo albums. I don’t know what should be done with those. It wouldn’t seem right just to throw them away. You understand.”
“All the bits and pieces of Richard’s life,” he said. “Yes, I understand, but with no family left it’s hard to know what else to do. The photo albums, at least, might be of value to the historical society’s collection.”
“Mr. Strickland had gotten several old albums out just recently. He must have been looking through them that last day.” Her throat tightened. He had been reliving his past, maybe, thinking about the people he’d loved. But he had died alone, and that wrenched at her heart.
Leo must have known something of what she was thinking, because he patted her hand. “Why don’t you put things like the photo albums in a separate box? I’ll stop by later today to look through them.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to leave now. I have an appointment with the pastor about the memorial service for Richard. It will be on Saturday, since more people can come then.”
She nodded. There would be many in Springville who would want to pay their respects.
Leo started out the door, then turned back again. “I nearly forgot. I’m making arrangements for Donald McKay, the antiques dealer, to evaluate items from the house. I’ll let you know when he’s coming, since someone else should be with him as he’s doing the valuing.”
She nodded again. Perhaps Mr. McKay had repeated his offer of help t
o Leo.
“Oh, and Maude Stevens has been agitating about the contents of the will.” He looked faintly hunted. “If she should come here, don’t let her have access to the house without me. The historical society will simply have to wait its turn.” He gave a faint smile. “You’d think historians would be patient by nature, wouldn’t you? Lock up behind me.”
Smiling at his comment, Sarah snapped the dead bolt. It was far better that Leo deal with Mrs. Stevens, if necessary.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS SHE TRIED TO GET BACK to sorting and boxing that afternoon, Sarah found that Leo’s comments about the accident had brought it back to mind a bit too vividly. Those moments when she’d known they were going to crash, the sensation of flying through the air—that should be what sent remembered fear shivering down her spine.
But it wasn’t. The vivid, terrifying moments that wouldn’t let go were those she’d spent frantically searching for Jacob, fearing she would find him lying on the road, looking the way Mr. Strickland had when she’d found him.
She tried to shake the feeling off, but couldn’t. Maybe Jacob had felt the same thing when he’d tried to find her. Maybe… Her thoughts jumped ahead to the kiss. Perhaps that kiss had just been an expression of relief that they were both still alive. If so, the best way to handle the situation was to ignore it.
That explanation should make her happy, but for some reason it didn’t.
The cuckoo clock on the study wall sounded, reminding her that it was time to quit for the day. She began stacking the photo albums in a box, along with the loose photos. The pictures must have been important to Mr. Strickland. He’d made notes on the backs of many of them, identifying people and places. Quickly, she stacked them in the box to be looked at later. Her hand paused on the album she’d seen first, the one with the picnic scene. Surely someone would want to keep that one, at least. She flipped open the album.
