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.
“You know Jeannette. She’ll put the worst possible interpretation on anything.”
“What did she say?”
Clearly Meredith wouldn’t let it go. “It was more implication than an outright statement. She hinted that John hung around the teenagers. That he kept trying to talk to Laura privately. That he was too interested in her.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Meredith snapped the words, her hands clenching into fists. “My father would never do anything like that. How can you say that?”
“I didn’t say I believed it,” he protested. “I’m not even sure Jeannette does. She claimed all the kids noticed it, but I doubt that, since the rumor would have surfaced before now.”
He watched her draw in a breath, fight for control and deliberately unclench her fists. “If she starts spreading that lie around, I’ll sue her.”
“Relax, Meredith. Jeannette was just using the threat to make you give up on learning anything about Aaron and Laura.” He was beginning to sympathize with Samuel in his need to keep his sister from being hurt.
“If that’s what Jeannette intended, she’s wrong. I’ll make her eat those words before she’s done.”
Meredith looked like some avenging fury at the slight to her father. She’d reacted with that same kind of passion when he was the accused, but it hadn’t done any good. They had been kids, easily outmaneuvered. But they weren’t kids now.
“Look, forget Jeannette. The truth is the best weapon against someone like her. What did your neighbor have to say?”
Meredith seemed to wrench her thoughts back. “Rebecca? Not much, unfortunately. I did get Lainey’s address from her, so I could contact her if necessary, but I’m not sure she can help.” She frowned. “Rebecca insisted she didn’t see anyone that night, and she wouldn’t lie. Still, I had the feeling she was holding something back.”
“It seems like a lot of people in Deer Run are doing that.”
She nodded, running her hands up and down her arms.
“You’re cold.” He yanked down the zipper on his jacket. “Take my jacket.”
“No, I—”
He draped it around her shoulders while she was still trying to argue, and he flashed back to another moment, another time, when he’d done the same thing. They’d been up at the lake, sitting on a bench, talking, and he’d realized she was cold. He’d slipped his jacket around her, and...
Her gaze caught his, startled and aware, as if she knew what he was thinking.
She drew away quickly, but she hugged the jacket around her. “I...I suppose you need to be getting back to your job soon.”
She was putting up barriers, reminding him that his life was elsewhere.
“My boss told me to take the time I need. He seemed to think I had things to settle here.” He skipped on, not sure he wanted to explore that with Meredith, of all people. “I haven’t even gone to the house yet.”
“Why not?” Her steady gaze didn’t let him duck away from the question.
“Too many memories, I guess. I have to make a decision about it soon.”
“Let me go with you.” She reached out to clasp his hand, momentarily depriving him of speech. “Please. I could meet you there tomorrow afternoon.”
He should say no, but he wasn’t going to. “Sounds good. Around three?”
“I’ll be there.” She stood, slipping the jacket off and handing it to him. “I’d better get inside.”
Was she regretting her offer or that impulsive touch? He couldn’t tell. “I’ll walk you.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“Now you’re asking the impossible.” He lifted his hand to touch her cheek lightly, meaning it to be the briefest bit of encouragement and comfort. But her skin warmed under his hand, and he couldn’t seem to break the contact.
Meredith was the one who spun away. “Good night.” The word floated out behind her, and she was gone.
He stood immobile for a long moment, trying to get himself under control. He’d better stop kidding himself. The feelings he’d had for Meredith years ago were back, twice as strong, and he hadn’t the faintest idea what he should do about it.
* * *
“I’M PERFECTLY FINE, MEREDITH.” If she wanted Meredith to stay with her on a Sunday afternoon, Margo thought, her daughter would be eager to leave. “Go and visit your friend Rachel for a while. I’m just going to sit here and do the Sunday crossword or maybe take a little nap.” Margo flipped up the footrest on her recliner and settled the newspaper on her lap.
“If you’re sure.” Meredith grabbed her handbag and jacket as if she expected Margo to change her mind. “Call my cell if you need anything.”
“Of course, dear.” Margo bent convincingly over the newspaper, pretending to study the crossword grid. She held the position until she was sure Meredith had walked past the windows and disappeared in the direction of Rachel’s bed-and-breakfast.
Finally. Margo put the footrest down with a thud and tossed the paper aside. Ordinarily she might feel a little bereft at being left alone, but the idea that had come to her during church this morning required privacy.
Margo took a cautious look out the window to be sure Meredith wasn’t coming back for something she’d forgotten and then started up the stairs, her thoughts returning to the morning’s worship service.
She’d sat with Meredith where they usually did and watched as first Laura and Victor Hammond and then Jeannette Walker paraded down the aisle to the pews where their families had sat for generations. Their names might not be engraved on the seats, but no one else in Deer Run would think of sitting there. Even Meredith’s friend Rachel, who was raised Amish and had no background at all, sat in the Mason pew by reason of her disastrous marriage to the Mason boy.
Deer Run’s version of royalty, that’s what they were, just because their people had been here since the Year One. Lording it over others who were just as good as them, if not better.
Like Jeannette, standing in worship this morning to accept thanks for her role in organizing the flower stand, nodding graciously as if she were solely responsible for its success.
Margo paused at the top of the stairs to catch her breath. It didn’t do to hurry. She didn’t want to get one of her spells.
She’d done every bit as much to make the flower stand a success as Jeannette, and certainly more than Laura, who’d simply donated some flowers that her gardener grew. But they looked down on her, just because she’d married an Amish man who’d worked with his hands. For years she’d longed to get the upper hand on them, just once. And now— Well, maybe now she had a chance.
Meredith’s bedroom was as neat as always. Why on earth her daughter preferred this cool green space to the profusion of pink and ruffles that made Margo’s room so charming she surely couldn’t imagine. But she wasn’t here to question the decorating. She wanted to have another look at that scrapbook Meredith and her friends had kept the summer that Amish boy drowned.
Something was going on about that incident after all these years. Meredith imagined that she could keep secrets from her mother, but she couldn’t. Margo opened one drawer after another, searching for the scrapbook, frustrated at Meredith’s secretiveness. If Meredith would just be open with her, as a daughter should, she wouldn’t have to make these recurrent searches.
Finally she found it, tucked into the center drawer of Meredith’s desk beneath some f
olders. She pulled the scrapbook out, settled into the desk chair and opened it.
Margo clucked to herself as she flipped through the brittle pages, trying to make sense of them. If only she could remember something about the night of the accident, something no one else knew....
She paused, hand on the page, imagining herself the center of a crowd, congratulated and honored for resolving the mystery surrounding the boy’s death. And she remembered the night very clearly. She hadn’t wanted to be left alone, but John had insisted he had work to finish, leaving her by herself when that boy was drowning not a hundred yards from the house.
Margo turned another page and stopped. The scrapbook was filled with drawings, but this page had photographs, taken with the little camera Meredith had been given for her tenth birthday. Blurry and faded, they had been taken at the fire company fair that summer. Most were different combinations of Meredith, Rachel and Lainey, but one...
She bent over, studying it, wishing she had a magnifying glass. There was a teenage Laura, the center of an admiring group, as always. Jeannette stood a bit in the background, also as always.
The rest were boys. That had to be Aaron with his back to the camera, identifiable by his blond bowl-cut hair and straw hat. The others she wasn’t quite sure of. Victor and Dennis Sitler were there. That tall boy they’d called Moose, who now ran the gas station at the edge of town. Two other boys, their faces young and unformed. Laura’s followers, all of them. That girl had been the center of attention her entire life.
Margo flipped the page and discovered she was nearly at the end. There was another picture with some careful cursive writing in Meredith’s hand—a story, it seemed. And then a final page, a clipping from the local newspaper pasted in the center. Amish Youth Dies in Pond.
She read through the article quickly, phrases lingering in her mind. Accidental drowning, gone there alone for some unknown reason...
Memory opened a door in her mind. The house had been stuffy that night, so she’d raised the windows. She’d stood at the window in the upstairs hall for a moment, enjoying the cool breeze, looking out at the moonlit lawn. Listening, and hearing voices carried through the still night air.
Voices, coming from the path that led to the dam. She’d leaned out, catching a quick glance of dark figures moving into the woods.
Aaron hadn’t been alone when he went to the dam that night. Margo stared down at the newspaper clipping, letting it sink in. She knew something important—the answer to a question no one had ever asked her.
Should she tell Meredith? But Meredith had been keeping secrets from her. Why shouldn’t Margo keep one of her own?
Not forever, of course. She felt a righteous glow. Just until she could figure out a way to be certain who’d been out there with Aaron that night. And then... Well, maybe then certain people would realize they weren’t so superior, after all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MEREDITH PAUSED FOR a moment in front of Rachel’s bed-and-breakfast before heading on down the street. Evading the truth was more complicated than she’d expected. Now she had to walk over to the Randal house instead of taking the car.
Still, she could predict what would have happened if she’d told her mother she was meeting Zach this afternoon. Margo would have become agitated, and that in turn would lead to palpitations. She’d become short of breath and dizzy. Meredith would end up calling Bennett Campbell or possibly the rescue squad if the attack was bad enough. And she’d never make it to see Zach.
Meredith had never been sure how much control her mother had at the start of an attack, but she was very sure that the situation could spiral out of control in a hurry. Meredith had no wish to see that happen. It was far better to stay clear of the subject.
Zach would be gone in a few days, and she wouldn’t see him again. In fact, she was probably hastening his departure by helping him with his decision about the house.
She frowned, realizing she’d covered half the route to the Randal house without noticing a thing she passed because she was so deep in thought. Deer Run, however, drowsed in Sunday-afternoon torpor. People took naps, watched football, read the Sunday paper, cooked dinner. It was too early in the season to rake leaves and too late for backyard picnics.
She turned the corner at Pine Street and headed toward what Zach had called “the other side of the tracks.” The train tracks were long gone, and several modest new homes sparked a more positive air to the block. The old Randal house was the exception, slumping to the side with an air of defeat. A broken window had been covered with plywood, and it looked as if the lawn was recently mowed. That was Jake Evans’s doing, no doubt. He’d feel responsible as executor.
Someone moved on the front walk, and her heart did a little stutter step at the sight of Zach waiting for her.
The memory of that moment when he’d touched her cheek flooded back with a vividness that had her skin warming. The truth was like a punch to the heart. She still cared for Zach. That was the real reason she’d never been able to get serious about another man in the years since. She’d loved him. But that love was destined to go nowhere, because he couldn’t wait to shake the dust of Deer Run from his feet for good.
She was here to help him achieve that, right? So she’d keep her feelings to herself and her attitude friendly but casual.
Zach smiled when she approached, the same smile that had captured her heart at seventeen. Her breath caught. The casual attitude was going to be tough to achieve.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
Her words sounded needlessly formal. Why couldn’t she be natural with him? It didn’t help that his snug-fitting jeans and leather jacket, combined with the strand of hair that fell onto his forehead and the glint in his eyes, made him look just as desirably dangerous as always.
“No problem.” He held up a key ring. “Jake gave me these, so we don’t have to break in.”
She studied him, not reassured by the belligerent set to his shoulders. “You wouldn’t, would you?”
He shrugged. “Sure I would. But I don’t have to, so stop worrying. I won’t ruin your standing as a good girl.”
“I...” She wanted to come up with a snappy retort, but unfortunately she couldn’t think of one. “Aren’t you supposed to uphold the law?”
He grinned. “I’d just be bending it a little. After all, I am the owner.” The smile faded. “Jake Evans called to see if I’d made a decision. Guess he’s as eager as everyone else to see the last of me.”
“That can’t be true.” She hated the note of bitterness in Zach’s voice. “Jake was just following up. That’s his job. And there are people in Deer Run who’d be happy to see you hang around.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Such as?”
Me. “Anna Miller, at the store. She told me she was looking forward to seeing you.”
“Anna and her husband are still there?” His face softened. “She caught me trying to shoplift a can of tuna fish once. She made me sweep out the store, then paid me with four or five cans.”
Meredith’s heart twisted. At least he had a few decent memories from Deer Run. “They’re good people. You ought to stop in and say hello. It would please her to be remembered.”
“Maybe I will.” He was noncommittal, making her think perhaps he didn’t want to revisit old times.
“Should we get this over with?” She gestured toward the door.
“Let’s do it.” Zach’s expression hardened. He strode to the door and shoved the key in the lock. In a moment they were inside.
She’d never been here before, of course. Zach wouldn’t have considered it when his father was alive.
There was no entryway. The door opened into what was probably meant to be a living room, empty now, with no identifying features. To the left was another empty room and beyond it a door stood open into the kitche
n.
Zach had come to a halt a few steps in and stood there, his face frozen in an unreadable expression. He looked around as if he saw something other than the empty, dusty rooms. Instinct urged her to speak—to say something that would move him past the painful memories.
“The house doesn’t seem to be in such bad shape,” she ventured. “Was it rented after your stepmother died?”
Zach shook his head.
“There are some broken windows, and the plaster isn’t in very good shape.” One hole looked as if it had been made by someone’s fist. And she sounded like an overeager real estate agent trying to make a sale.
“Can’t figure out why she stayed on here after the old man died,” Zach’s voice grated. “I’d have expected her to sell up and get out.”
“Your stepmother? Well, older people often want to stay in familiar surroundings.”
“Wish she’d left it to someone else,” he muttered. At least he was moving now, but it wasn’t much of an improvement since he was prowling around the two front rooms like a caged panther.
“Were the two of you close?”
“Close?” He looked at her as if she was crazy. “Not likely. She didn’t have a motherly bone in her body, and a stepkid was just a nuisance.”
Meredith studied his face, looking for... Well, she didn’t know what. Some sign that he could accept and leave the past behind instead of running from it, maybe.
“Whether she liked you or not, she did leave the house to you. Let’s have a look at the kitchen.” She moved briskly toward the door, just glad to leave these empty rooms with whatever ghosts they held.
Unfortunately the kitchen was in worse shape, with the refrigerator door hanging drunkenly from a broken hinge and a rusted, filthy range.
Oddly enough, Zach seemed less haunted here. “Not much of a housekeeper, was she? I have to hand it to Ruth—she did know how to handle the old man. She taught me, though I don’t suppose she intended it.”
“What do you mean?”
He nodded toward the indescribable stove. “He came at her one night when she was cooking. Usually he was content with knocking me around, but that time he went after her. She swung away from the stove with a cast-iron skillet in her hand and whacked him with it. He went down like a log. Far as I know he never tried to touch her again.”
Marta Perry Page 9
