Fear, no. Regret, maybe. She carefully didn’t look at Zach.
“Don’t you?” Jeannette’s penciled eyebrows lifted. “But then, you don’t know everything there is to know about your sainted father, now, do you?” She turned and stalked away, leaving Meredith staring after her, mind reeling.
“Merry?” Zach’s use of his pet name for her nearly shattered her precarious control. “You’re not taking that poisonous female seriously, are you?”
She could only stare at him. “What did she mean? My father didn’t have anything to do with Laura and Aaron. And he never did anything that I’d be ashamed of.”
“Forget her.” Zach’s hand closed over hers in a firm, comforting grip. “She’s just trying to scare you into dropping it. And since you’ve already decided to do just that, it doesn’t matter what she says.”
Meredith shook her head, the truth crystallizing in her mind. “No. Don’t you see? I can’t give up on it now, not after what Jeannette implied. I have to prove my father didn’t do anything to be ashamed of.”
Jeannette probably had no idea what she’d done, but she’d just made it impossible for Meredith to stop searching for answers, no matter how much she wanted to.
CHAPTER FIVE
ZACH TOLD HIMSELF it was time he pulled back. Meredith’s choices weren’t his business, and maybe they never had been. He couldn’t let himself get sucked into this particular drama.
All logical thoughts. But the chanting of the auctioneer and the hum of the crowd receded to a muted background, and the only reality seemed to be the hurt in Meredith’s face. His hand moved without volition, touching hers where it was clenched on the countertop.
“You can’t let Jeannette’s poisonous attitude push you into something you don’t want to do.” The counter was a barricade between them, reminding him of all the other barriers that existed. “The woman’s an expert at saying what she knows will sting.”
Meredith’s eyes seemed to regain their focus. “Do you remember her, or are you just that good a judge of character?”
“A little of both.” If he kept Meredith talking, maybe he could banish that lost look from her eyes. “I’ve run across enough people like Jeannette to know better than to take her seriously. She’s the type who relishes knowing the negative about others, just so she can feel superior.”
He’d certainly always given the people of Deer Run plenty of fodder for looking down on him. Skipping school, fighting... A little petty theft when there hadn’t been any food in the house. And then there were the things he’d been blamed for even if he hadn’t done them. Stay detached, he reminded himself.
“I don’t care what she says about me, but I won’t let her get away with slandering my father.” Anger sparked in Meredith’s eyes. “How would you feel if it was your father?”
His lips twisted wryly. “There’s nothing she could say about my old man that wouldn’t be true.”
Meredith sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Forget it.” He made an effort to shrug off the words. “Being here just brings up a ton of bad memories.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “I hope they aren’t all bad.”
“No.” His voice roughened. Their eyes met. Held. Awareness seemed to shimmer in the air between them.
“I hope I’m not late, Meredith.” The woman who bustled up to the booth was vaguely familiar. Elderly, her hair done in tight white curls and her eyes bright with curiosity, she looked from him to Meredith.
“Helen.” Meredith’s smile was artificial, but maybe the woman didn’t recognize that. “No, you’re right on time. It’s been pretty quiet.” She lifted the flap in the counter, allowing the woman to go behind it as she slipped out. “It’s all yours. Unless you need me to help...”
“Goodness, no. You young people go and enjoy yourselves.” She waved her hands at them, shooing them away. “I’m sure you need some time to catch up. It’s nice to see Zach after all these years.”
Did everyone in Deer Run remember him? Apparently so. He caught Meredith’s gaze and they exchanged a look of complete understanding. It startled him. Apparently they could still achieve that instant, wordless communication.
For an instant he thought Meredith was going to embark on something—explanation or denial, maybe? But then she smiled and turned away from the booth.
Zach fell into step with her. “Okay?”
“Helen didn’t mean anything. Or at least, it was kindly meant.”
“Just intrusive,” he said. “But she didn’t seem to be assuming I’m a bum.”
“Of course not.” She glanced at him. “Sorry you got caught up in this difficulty with Laura. I’ve been friends with these people for years, and I can’t detach myself. But it’s not your concern.”
Just what he’d been telling himself. It was his cue to walk away and keep on going. He didn’t want to.
“No problem. How about sharing a funnel cake, for old times’ sake?”
Her step slowed, and he could almost read the emotions that skittered rapidly across her face.
“Still embarrassed to be seen with me?”
“I’ve never been embarrassed.” Meredith shot the words back.
No, she never had been, even when people stared and whispered when they walked into a school dance together.
“All right. One funnel cake.” She nodded toward the cement-block fire hall. “It’s over by the building.”
They fell into step again, and he ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that insisted that this was a bad idea. “While we’re eating, you can tell me why Jeannette’s so hell-bent on protecting Laura Hammond.”
Meredith’s lips pressed together, and she strode toward the food stand. He kept up, biding his time.
The funnel cakes were being made by an Amish woman who gave him a wary look before greeting Meredith warmly.
“I can make you two funnel cakes, ja?”
“Just one, thanks, Sarah. I couldn’t eat more than half.” Meredith glanced at him. “Unless you want a whole one.”
He disclaimed any desire to eat an entire plateful of fried, sugar-dusted dough on his own.
The woman began pouring batter through a funnel into the bubbling oil, turning it in a circular motion to produce the twisty confection. His memories moved sluggishly. Meredith had a bunch of Amish relatives. This must be one of them, apparently the cousin who’d stirred up Meredith’s need to know about Aaron Mast’s death.
He studied her face as she drained the golden treat, transferred it deftly to a paper plate and sifted powdered sugar over the whole thing. It wasn’t always easy to judge an Amish woman’s age, but he’d guess her to be about ten years older than Meredith. Of an age, then, to have been Aaron Mast’s contemporary. Meredith hadn’t really explained what her interest was in that long-ago tragedy.
A question he should ignore, he supposed, except that he couldn’t turn off his cop’s brain any more than he could stop the instincts that went along with it.
He waited with as much patience as he could muster until they’d moved beyond earshot of the booth. One bite of the funnel cake reminded him both of how sweet and how messy they were. He tried without success to brush the powdered sugar from his fingers.
Something that was almost a giggle escaped Meredith. “Resign yourself to being covered with sugar. I have some wipes in my bag for just this contingency.”
“You’re like the Scouts, always prepared.” He watched her face, enjoying her answering smile. Too bad to spoil the moment with questions, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“So that was your cousin, the one who expects you to prove Aaron didn’t kill himself.”
Meredith nodded. “Sarah. I don’t suppose you would have known her.”
&n
bsp; “No. But I remember that your mother was always trying to keep you away from your father’s side of the family.”
“She still is.” Meredith pressed her lips closed for an instant, as if she regretted voicing that particular truth. “Sarah just wants to know what really happened.”
“Why?” He asked the question bluntly. “I mean, why does it matter so much to her after all this time?”
“People have been talking about what happened to Aaron again, and this rumor of suicide has been gaining strength. It hurts people—his parents, Sarah—”
“Again, why Sarah? What was her connection with him?”
Meredith blinked. “He was a friend. More than a friend, before Aaron became infatuated with Laura. Her first love, I suppose. They say you never forget your first love.” She looked suddenly as if she’d like to unsay those words, and her color heightened.
In his case, the old saying was right, but maybe he’d better not go there. That would really be playing with fire.... Another cliché that was rooted in truth.
Meredith was staring intently at the nearly forgotten plate of funnel cake. He suspected she was relieved when he didn’t respond.
When she glanced up again, the color had faded. “You mentioned something earlier about there being ways to investigate a cold case.”
“Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.”
She shook her head, smiling a little. “You may as well tell me. I can’t give up on it now, so if you have any ideas, I’d like to hear them.”
He could read between the lines easily enough where Meredith was concerned. She had adored her father, and she wouldn’t let Jeannette’s implied accusation rest.
“If I were looking into it, I’d start with anyone who might have seen something that night.” He raised an eyebrow. “Your house is the only one that directly overlooks the dam, though.”
“I wasn’t there. I was staying overnight with one of my cousins. And Dad had gone back to the store to work.”
“Your mother never mentioned seeing anything?”
Meredith shook her head. “Whenever she spoke of Aaron’s death, it was only to fret about having been left alone in the house that night.”
He could imagine. “What about your neighbors? Have you ever talked to them about it?”
“No, I haven’t. But I will. What else?” She seemed to have a renewed sense of purpose.
Much as he distrusted where that might lead her, Zach couldn’t help admiring her perseverance. Along with a few other attributes.
He forced his thoughts back to business. “Lacking the ability to look at the reports of the investigation, I suppose I’d want to talk to Aaron’s friends. He must have confided in someone about his relationship with Laura.”
Meredith nodded. “I can find out from Sarah who he was close to. As far as Jeannette is concerned—”
“Why don’t you let me tackle Jeannette?” He heard himself making the offer even as one part of his mind told him he was crazy.
“You... That’s good of you, but I’m sure you don’t want to get involved in this.”
Right. “She’d just try to needle you if you talk to her. Let me see if I can get an idea of what she’s thinking about, if anything.”
“Thank you.” She looked into his face, as if searching to be sure he was being honest. “I’m not sure how I’d confront her.” She glanced past him and stiffened. “There’s my mother. I should go.”
He grasped her hand. “Meet me tonight. I’ll let you know how I made out.”
“I can’t.” She tugged at her hand, and he suspected she was frantic to avoid the kind of scene her mother was capable of putting on.
“Would you rather I came and knocked on the door?” He’d get a certain amount of pleasure out of doing just that, except that he knew Meredith would be the one dealing with the aftermath.
She looked as if she’d argue, but then she shrugged. “Where?”
“How about the dam, around nine? I’d like to have a look at the spot.” He almost said crime scene, but it wasn’t that, as far as he knew.
Meredith nodded, pulling her hand free. In a moment she was gone.
He strolled on in the direction they’d been headed, detouring to toss the paper plate in a trash can. He would not look back to see Meredith with her mother.
But that didn’t keep him from visualizing Meredith’s face. Or from wondering how he’d gotten so far away from what he’d intended to do.
* * *
FORTUNATELY HER MOTHER hadn’t caught a glimpse of Meredith talking to Zach, so Meredith was able to get home from the auction without a hassle. Determined to follow up on Zach’s suggestions as quickly as possible, she found a skirt of her mother’s that needed to be hemmed. That would make a reasonable excuse. Meredith cut through the gap in the hedge between her house and Rebecca Stoltzfus’s, her mind busy with every possible approach to Lainey’s great-aunt.
Not that Meredith needed an excuse to drop in on the elderly Amish woman. Rebecca loved company, and she was always so happy to see Meredith that she felt guilty for not stopping by more often.
Rebecca was in her usual seat—a rocker placed close to the front window, where she got enough light for hand sewing and also had a fine view of the comings and goings on Main Street. She beckoned for Meredith to come in, smiling broadly.
The front door stood wide to the warm September day. Meredith pulled the wooden screen door open and stepped inside.
The Stoltzfus house was smaller and simpler than theirs, but it dated from the same era, with its wide woodwork and floors faded to a honey brown. An archway led into the living room where Rebecca spent most of her time these days.
“Ach, Meredith, it’s so gut to see you. I didn’t think to have company until after the auction.” Rebecca put aside the small black pants she was mending, no doubt for one of her countless relatives. “Komm, sit.” She gestured to the second rocker that was conveniently placed next to hers for a chat with her frequent visitors.
“I slipped away after I finished working in the flower booth,” Meredith said, bending to kiss Rebecca’s cheek, still as firm as a small red apple despite her eighty years. “I wanted to drop off a skirt of my mother’s to be hemmed if you have time.”
“For sure,” Rebecca said, smoothing the tweed wool in her hands. “A pretty color. Your mamm always wears such nice shades.”
The skirt was a soft coral, much lighter and brighter than the dark maroon of the plain dress Rebecca wore with her black apron. Like most Amish women, she’d switched to the darker colors in mid-life.
“I thought maybe I’d see you at the auction today.” Meredith leaned back in the rocker, wondering how she was going to get the conversation headed in the right direction.
“So many people offered to take me, but you know my legs just don’t work so well as they used to.” Rebecca rubbed her knee. “I’d just as soon sit here and watch the folks go by.”
Rebecca used her windows the way most Englisch used their televisions—to provide constant entertainment. That was all the more reason why Zach’s comment had been spot-on. Rebecca was more likely than most to have seen something the night Aaron died.
Meredith could hardly plunge into questioning her without some buildup, though. “I think I spotted one of your quilts up for sale today. A Tumbling Blocks pattern, wasn’t it?”
“Ja, I sent along two quilts for the sale. A Tumbling Blocks and a Nine Patch.” Rebecca’s eyes twinkled. “With all the kinder my great-nieces and nephews keep having, I must support the school, that’s certain sure.”
“I’m sure the quilts will bring a good price with all the people who are there.” She hesitated for a moment. “Have you heard anything from Lainey recently?”
Lainey had been ten the last time Meredith saw her—sent to Dee
r 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.
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