Zach’s face had actually lightened at the memory, even though it made her feel rather sick. “You said she taught you how to deal with him.”
“Yeah. That was the lesson. I had to be big enough and strong enough to fight back. No more cowering like a scared kid. I flattened him against the wall and gave him my terms. I’d keep my hands off him, and he’d do the same for me. I was staying until I got my diploma, and then I’d get out and he’d never see me again.” He paused. “Things didn’t quite work out like that, though.”
That diploma had been snatched out of reach when her mother said Zach had stolen money from the desk. Because of her.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her throat tight.
He looked at her with what seemed honest surprise. “It wasn’t your fault. I even understand your parents’ attitude. If I had a daughter, I wouldn’t want a kid like I was anywhere near her, either. They saw me like everyone else in town did—a piece of trash discarded on the street.”
She made an instinctive sound of protest, unable to find words.
“Well, except for one person,” he said, giving her a crooked smile. “Remember the day you were late to school?”
She nodded. She’d come rushing toward the building, knowing the bell had already rung, panic-stricken at the thought of being tardy for the first time in her life. Everyone had already gone inside, except for Zach. He lounged against the railing as she rushed up the stairs.
“I don’t know what made me stop. I was late already.” But she had stopped. Had looked at him. “I asked you why you weren’t scared of getting in trouble.”
“And I told you I was always in trouble, so it didn’t worry me.”
“I’d never met anybody who just didn’t care.” She had to smile, remembering her astonishment at his attitude.
“And I’d never met anybody who looked at me without seeing trouble.” His gaze lingered on her face, and it was as if he touched her. Her cheeks warmed. She moved toward him without planning it, just knowing—
“What are you doing in here?” The loud voice from the front room made her jump, instantly guilty. Heavy footsteps thudded toward them.
* * *
ZACH FIGURED HE should have realized he wasn’t finished with Ted Singer yet. The guy had a one-track mind, and right now it was settled on Zach Randal.
“You looking to add breaking and entering to your rap sheet, Randal?” Singer appeared in the doorway, and his voice suggested he was enjoying this.
Singer couldn’t see Meredith from where he stood. She was shielded by the angle of the door. He’d just bet Singer’s tone would change once he knew who else was there.
“It’s not breaking in when I have a key.” He held up the ring and let the key dangle from his hand. “I own this place.”
“Prove it or I’ll—” Singer stepped through the doorway and shut up as if the door had smacked him in the face. He’d seen Meredith.
“I can assure you it’s true.” Meredith’s voice was icy. “But you knew that before you came in here. Everyone in town knows.”
Ted looked as if he couldn’t decide whether it was better to admit it, thus confessing he was just hassling Zach, or better to deny it and appear the worst-informed cop on earth.
“I...uh, I was just checking,” he muttered, his face flushing. “Wouldn’t want anyone breaking in, with the house empty and all.”
Zach found his temper rising and knew perfectly well it wasn’t because Ted was being Ted. He didn’t like Meredith seeing anyone treat him that way. He’d been used to it when he was a kid, but he wasn’t a kid any longer.
“Someone breaking in on a Sunday afternoon? Vandals must be getting pretty bold.” He let his skepticism show in his voice.
Ted’s face darkened, but before he could answer, Meredith broke in.
“I’m sure Zach appreciates the fact that the police are looking out for his property. In fact, I ought to tell Chief Burkhalter how conscientious you’re being, even coming in to check when the owner is looking around.”
Zach had never heard Meredith sound quite so cool and contemptuous. It seemed the good little girl wasn’t naïve any longer.
Ted stared at her for a moment, maybe trying to figure out exactly what she meant. He had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer. Finally he shrugged, turning away.
“No need for that. I’ll get back on patrol.” He left, more quickly than he’d come.
The tension in the air dissipated with Ted’s exit. Unfortunately, so did the sizzle that had been alive between Zach and Meredith. Or maybe that was for the best. He raised an eyebrow.
“You amaze me. When did you develop that lofty way of dealing with the Ted Singers of the world?”
Meredith turned those doe eyes on him. “I had to grow up sometime. If I’d done it a little sooner, I might have been able to stop what my mother did to you. I’m—”
“If you apologize again, I might have to do something drastic,” he threatened. “It wasn’t your fault.”
She wasn’t diverted. “You must wish you’d never talked to me outside school that day.”
He reacted before thinking, catching her hands in both of his. “There are a lot of things I regret in my life, Merry, but never you.” He searched her face, willing her to understand. “You taught me how to dream about a better future. Nobody can get along without dreams.”
Meredith’s lips trembled, and that was all it took. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. After a startled second she responded, her arms sliding around him. He deepened the kiss. He was falling, and he had no desire at all to catch himself. Meredith...
Rational thought hit like a splash of cold water. Meredith. He wasn’t here to let history repeat itself. There was no possible future for them, and it was far better to stop this while it was just a spark, before someone got burned.
He drew back, trying to pretend he was in control of the situation. “Should I be apologizing about now?” He fought to keep it light.
The hurt in her eyes was quickly masked. “Of course not. We’re both adults. If we want to kiss, it’s no one’s business but ours.” Her smile trembled. “Still, maybe it’s not the best idea in the world. You’ll probably be leaving soon, and I...won’t.”
That about summed it up, didn’t it?
* * *
MEREDITH DROVE UP the lane to the farmhouse where Sarah and her husband, Jonah, lived with their children. It had belonged to Jonah’s parents, but they now lived in the daadi haus, connected to the main farmhouse by a breezeway. His father wasn’t actually retired, since at that moment she could see him and Jonah out in the field, making one last cutting of hay.
At least that would keep the men out of the way so she could chat with Sarah.
Meredith parked under a black walnut tree, her tires crunching over some of the fallen nuts. Sarah wouldn’t mind that—it was a time-honored method of getting the tough husks off the nuts. Small yellow leaves fluttered down as she got out of the car, one landing in her hair. She brushed it away and headed for the back door. With any luck, she and Sarah would be able to talk before the kids came home from school. It was time she knew more about Aaron Mast than her childhood image of a golden hero.
Sarah saw her coming and held the back door wide. “Meredith. I’m wonderful happy to see you. Komm. Sit.” She waved her into the kitchen.
An Amish kitchen was definitely the heart of the home. Sarah’s was warmed by the sunlight streaming in the west windows, laying a path across the faded linoleum on the floor. The countertops and gas range shone with constant scrubbing, as did the long rectangular pine table.
Sarah pulled out one of the ladder-back chairs and gestured her toward it. “Sit down. I already have the kettle on, so it will just take a minute to make tea. You’ll have some oatmeal cookies, ja?”
> “The way they smell, I could hardly refuse.” The cookies were spread on cooling racks next to the range. “Maybe you’d better not tell the kids I’ve been dipping into their after-school snack.” Meredith slid one off the rack and nibbled. “Wonderful.”
Sarah ducked her head with the usual Amish humility in the face of praise. “The kinder will be happy to share, as well you know. The big ones won’t be home from school for another half hour, and the two little ones are napping, so we can have a nice talk.”
She poured steaming water into a brown earthenware teapot and set it on the table. Meredith slid into the chair. No matter how much time had elapsed between visits, she always felt at home in Sarah’s kitchen.
Maybe she’d better ease her way into asking questions. “I see Jonah and his dad are getting a cutting of hay in.”
“Ja, the last one, I think. Jonah’s daad says he thinks we might have an early frost, so we’re eager to get the new barn finished.”
Meredith nodded, her mouth full of cookie. “I noticed they have everything ready to start building. When is the barn raising?” Building a new barn was a job for the church, not a construction company, in the Amish community.
“Saturday, if the weather doesn’t turn bad.” Sarah sent a glance toward the window, as if assessing the chances, but surely it was too early in the week to know. “You will come, ja?”
“If I can.” If her mother didn’t think of a dozen other things she ought to do that day.
“And bring your friend, Zach.” Sarah’s lips curled in a mischievous smile.
“I don’t know if he’ll still be in town on Saturday.” Meredith prayed she wasn’t flushing. “How do you know about Zach?”
“I saw you at the auction, remember? And Samuel mentioned seeing the two of you together the other night.” Sarah’s forehead furrowed as she spoke.
“Did Samuel also tell you why he came to see me?”
Sarah nodded, looking distressed. “He tried to get out of it, but I made him tell me. He said he wanted you to stop looking into Aaron’s death. He said I’d be better off forgetting about Aaron.”
As annoyed as she was with Samuel, Meredith hated seeing Sarah so upset with him. “He just doesn’t want to see you get hurt.”
“That is foolishness.” Sarah’s tone was tart. “The truth is always better, even when it hurts.”
She’d said something like that to Meredith once before. Sarah clearly believed it. But was it always better to know? Could the cost of the truth be too great? Maybe, but in this case she, like Sarah, couldn’t settle for less.
“I was hoping you could tell me a little more about Aaron. Much as I thought I knew him that last summer, I only saw him through a child’s eyes.” A child’s eyes that saw only the golden knight of a fairy tale.
“Ja, sure, but what do you need to know?” Sarah lifted her tea mug, holding it cupped in both hands. “I’ll tell you anything that might help, but I don’t know what it would be.”
“Just start with what he was like. In real life, not a child’s imagination.” She smiled. “We always thought he was a hero.”
“Ja, I know you girls followed him around that summer, making up your stories. He knew, too.”
Of course he’d known. They hadn’t been nearly as subtle as they’d thought they were. “What did he say about us?”
“He was kind. Aaron was always sehr kind.” Sarah put her hand against her cheek, remembering. “He said you three could be doing something worse, and it didn’t trouble him. He’d look after you.”
“You see? He was a hero.” She tried to smile, but remembered sorrow interfered.
How devastated the three of them had been when they’d learned of Aaron’s death. It had put an end to their summer, in a way. Parents were suddenly watching their children more closely, and Lainey had been collected by her mother. Once school started, she’d been back in public school while Rachel was in the one-room Amish schoolhouse, and they’d stopped seeing much of each other.
She cleared her throat, trying to concentrate. “How did Aaron get involved with Laura and her friends to begin with?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I know he went to some parties at someone’s hunting cabin that summer.” Sarah frowned. “Englisch and Amish kids both went. Most likely he met Laura there.”
He’d have gotten involved with the other Englisch kids through Laura, of course. She’d been the center around which everything revolved.
“Did you ever talk to him about his relationship with Laura?” Sarah must have been hurt, seeing a boy she cared about getting involved with an Englisch girl.
Sarah looked down at her cup, maybe seeing the past there. “I tried. Before that, I was the one he’d taken home from singings. But more than that, I was afraid he’d be hurt so badly. Either Laura would break his heart, or he’d run off with her and lose who he was.”
Lose who he was, Meredith repeated silently. Was that what her father had felt he’d done when he married her mother?
“What did Aaron say when you talked to him?” she continued.
Sarah smiled sadly. “That I didn’t understand. That their relationship was different. That they would make it work because they loved each other so much. But they didn’t succeed, did they?”
Apparently not. If Aaron had killed himself... But Meredith didn’t know that for sure. And there was another question she had to ask, even though she feared the answer.
“Did you ever hear anything about my father taking an interest in that group of kids?”
“John?” Sarah looked startled. “I wouldn’t know about that, would I?”
Because John King had left the Amish community behind when he married her mother.
“He wasn’t under the bann, since he left before he was baptized into the church,” Meredith pointed out. “We still saw a lot of your family. I just thought you might have heard something.”
Sarah considered, frowning a little. “We were not the same generation, you see. But now that you ask, I did hear something, although it wasn’t from John. It was from Aaron.”
Meredith’s heart was suddenly thudding against her ribs. “What did he say?”
“I’d forgotten that until just this minute.” Sarah pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Aaron said that John warned him away from Laura. That was it. He warned him away from her.”
Meredith felt as if an elevator had plunged downward, carrying her with it. She’d hoped to hear that her father had never shown the slightest interest in Laura. Instead, what she’d heard just added to her doubt.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MEREDITH STEPPED OUT onto the back porch of Rachel’s house that evening, pausing to zip up her tan windbreaker. It had gotten dark while she was inside, and the breeze that whistled down the valley had a cold edge to it.
She’d come to Rachel’s back door after supper, feeling as if she’d burst if she didn’t talk to someone about her concerns. She should confide in Zach, but she’d become wary of being alone with him after that kiss. Or rather, after her response to it.
She’d always taken pride in being the calm one, the person who didn’t let her emotions drive her. What had happened to that logical, sensible woman?
Rachel had been reassuring, as always. She’d pointed out that Sarah’s story didn’t necessarily imply there was anything untoward between Meredith’s father and Laura. It might simply be that he’d been trying to keep Aaron from making the same mistake he had.
Rachel hadn’t put it quite that bluntly, but that was what it amounted to. John King’s marriage to an English woman had been an unhappy one, and he’d hoped to save Aaron from a similar fate.
Meredith stepped down off the porch, her eyes beginning to adjust to the dark. Through the family-room window she could see Rachel and Mandy talking. They heade
d toward the stairs, Mandy’s arm around her mother’s waist.
A pang pierced Meredith’s heart. She’d never considered herself especially nurturing, but the love and trust between Rachel and Mandy made her long for something so nebulous she wasn’t sure she could put a name to it.
Shoving her hands in her pockets, she started across the lawn. A flashlight would have been a good idea, but all she had was the tiny penlight on the key ring she’d stuffed in her pocket. Still, she’d come this way so many times that she’d be able to do it blindfolded. There was nothing to bump into.
The back of Rebecca’s house was dark, but a glow came from the front room, where she was probably sewing or reading. Meredith’s thoughts flickered again to Lainey. She could write to Lainey, but she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of Aaron’s death in a letter.
After all this time, Lainey would think—well, she didn’t know what Lainey would think, but it was unlikely she could know any more than she and Rachel did. Besides—
A sound came from the shed at the back of Rebecca’s lawn. Meredith stopped, peering into the shadows, looking for the source of the metallic clink. Nothing, but she almost felt as if eyes peered out at her from the shadows.
Stupid. No one was there. She took another step and heard it again—a faint clink, as if someone had brushed against something metal, a trash can, maybe.
Meredith’s fingers closed on the key ring, and she pulled it out, feeling better for having something in her hand. She fingered the penlight, knowing she’d have to get closer to the sound for it to be of any use.
“Is someone there?” Her voice sounded loud to her, and she didn’t like the slight quaver it contained. “Hello?”
Nothing. Silence. But she wouldn’t be a coward. If someone was getting into her elderly neighbor’s shed, she had to investigate. Gripping the keys, ready to switch the penlight on, she moved toward the shed, her sneakers making no sound on the grass.
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