by Marta Perry
This was obviously bad timing. Julia would be upset by her news, and in no mood to cooperate with her therapist, if she ever was.
“Maybe we should postpone this until later. I can come back after the therapist has finished.”
“No, you don’t.” Julia grabbed her wrist, as if to prevent her physically. “Now that I know you’ve found something, I can’t sit around and wait. Don’t treat me like a feeble old lady.”
“I don’t,” Sarah said, smiling at the thought. “And you’re not.”
“Well, then, out with it. You and Allison traced what happened to my album quilt.”
Sarah glanced around cautiously. “Is Donna here now?”
“Afraid of eavesdroppers? Well, I wouldn’t put it past her, but she’s in the back bedroom, supposedly changing the beds, and she’s got the radio playing. She won’t hear anything we say, so you can talk.”
Julia was determined, and Sarah could hear the faint sounds of music from the hallway that led to the bedroom section of the house. She took a deep breath, knowing she couldn’t delay. “We found the dealer in Lititz who was trying to sell the quilt, and from him, we traced it to a small auction house near New Holland.”
Julia nodded, her wrinkled face showing no emotion. “And then?”
“Allison left messages for the auctioneer, and he called back just a bit ago. He was cooperative. He’d bought the quilt about five months ago.” Sarah’s voice started to drag. How would it feel to think that your own kin stole from you?
“Five months.” Julia seemed to absorb that fact. “Then it didn’t disappear when I moved.”
“I guess not. He told Allison the buyer said she was selling it for an elderly woman who was getting rid of some of her household goods.” Sarah sucked in a breath and watched Julia’s face anxiously. “It was Donna.”
For a moment there was no change in her expression. “Is he certain?” She rapped out the question. “If it was someone using Donna’s name...”
“Allison says he copied the driver’s license for identification. He actually faxed it to her, so we’re sure.”
“That’s it, then.” Julia stared at the cast she was surely tired of after all this time. “Well, I’ll have to deal with her.” She looked up. “You understand, there’s no question of going to the police, not when it’s family. I’ll deal with Donna myself.”
“I understand.” Julia was calmer than she would have expected, but Sarah suspected the calm wouldn’t last when she confronted her cousin. “Allison said to ask if you want her to negotiate getting the quilt back. It seems unfair to ask you to pay to get it back, but I guess...”
“No, no, I don’t want to haggle. Tell Allison to go ahead. I’ll pay that dealer whatever it cost him, but I’m not rewarding anyone for buying something that was stolen. In the meantime...” Her face hardened. “Go and get Donna for me, please.”
“Julia, you said the physical therapist would be here any minute. You can’t start a conversation like that when someone else is due to walk in the door.”
The woman seemed to grit her teeth for a moment, probably trying to hang on to her temper. “All right. But go tell her to see me after the therapist leaves. And tell Allison I’m grateful to both of you.”
Sarah went toward the hallway reluctantly. She had no desire to face Donna with this secret weighing on her, but she’d have to.
When she reached the bedroom area, the sound of the radio led her to the master suite. The door was open a few inches, giving her a partial view of Donna’s back. But she wasn’t changing the bed. She was talking on the phone.
Sarah stood where she was, uncertain. Should she call out to her? Then she heard Donna’s voice, soft and coy in a way she’d never heard it before.
“But, darling, I simply have to see you. I can’t stand it when we’re not together...”
Sarah back away noiselessly, her mind reeling. Donna? How could...
She shook the thought off, trying to close her mind to it, and went back to the living room.
“Did you tell her?” Julia demanded.
“No, I...I could hear that she was on the phone, and I didn’t like to interrupt.”
Shrewd eyes studied her face. “There’s something more. What is it?”
Somehow Sarah had a feeling Julia would see through any evasion. “She seemed to be talking to...a sweetheart.”
“Donna? That’s ridiculous.” Julia stared at her. “You’re serious.”
Sarah nodded. “You didn’t know she has a boyfriend?”
“She doesn’t. Not that anyone knows about, and goodness knows she’d be shouting it to the rooftops if she’d actually snared a man.” Her color deepened. “He must be married. That’s the only reason she’d keep it a secret.”
“She wouldn’t do that, would she?” The words Harvey had said earlier about people trying to cheat the elderly flitted into Sarah’s mind. “Or maybe...what if it’s someone who wanted to steal from you? He might be using Donna to do it. She’d have to hide her relationship in that case.”
“Maybe so.” Julia considered. “Either way, she’s a silly, deluded spinster without an ounce of appeal. I know that’s unkind, but it’s the truth. Well, it doesn’t change things. I still have to have it out with her. Though if there is a man involved, I’d like to see him in jail.”
Something...some instinct...shivered inside Sarah. “Julia, will you wait just a bit? Let me talk to Allison about it first. She’d know better than I would how to deal with this situation.” She could hear footsteps on the porch, lending urgency to her voice. “Please. Promise me you won’t tackle this alone. At least let Allison or me be here with you. Promise me.”
The doorbell rang, and Donna came clattering from the bedrooms. Sarah watched Julia’s face.
“All right,” she said finally, speaking under the noise of Donna admitting the therapist. “Maybe someone should be here as a witness when I confront her. But it has to be done soon.”
* * *
SARAH’S MAMM TURNED from the stove to survey the kitchen table while Grossmammi set a bowl of freshly made applesauce in place. “Looks like everything’s ready for supper. Ring the bell, please, Sarah.”
Sarah slipped out the screen door to the back porch. Like most farm families in this area, they had a large bell hanging from the porch roof, used for summoning the family to meals as well as getting the attention of anyone working outside. She reached up to grab the rope and give a few loud clangs.
Daad and Jonny emerged from the barn. The two younger ones, in the paddock with the pony, bolted for the fence and hopped over, racing each other toward the house.
“Don’t run into the quilts,” she called, and Noah veered to avoid the clotheslines filled with the ones that had been in the garbage bag.
They probably weren’t airing out as much as she’d hoped. The day was still and heavy, and it almost felt like rain, though it had been so long since they’d had a good downpour that she’d almost forgotten the sensation.
“They’re coming. Feels like rain out,” she added, taking the milk pitcher from her grandmother and finishing the task of filling glasses.
“Let’s hope.” Mamm peered out the window over the sink. “The boys have spent half the day hauling water to the garden. We’re fortunate to have a spring that never fails.”
“I hear some folks’ wells are running low.” Grossmammi took her seat at the table.
“Esther King says their well is getting low.” Mamm’s expression clouded. “I talked to her a bit today. She’s taking it hard, this suspicion of their Jonah.”
“It’s a trial for them to bear, that’s certain sure,” Grossmammi said. Her gaze sought out Sarah’s. “Have you talked to Aaron about it? Assured him of our caring?”
Sarah fought to keep her face expressionless. “
I did tell him, when I saw him today.”
The clatter of Daad and the boys coming in to supper diverted her grandmother’s attention, relieving Sarah. Grossmammi, maybe because she looked on so much, always seemed to see more than the younger people might want her to.
But Sarah wasn’t trying to hide a bit of mischief, was she? The memory of that kiss seemed to flood over her. She turned away from the table, busying herself with putting the milk in the gas refrigerator, and tried to rationalize it away.
It had been the impulse of the moment, hadn’t it? Aaron had told her that he didn’t think of remarrying, so it couldn’t have been serious.
Still, even though teenagers might steal kisses with little thought, people her and Aaron’s age didn’t treat a romance so lightly. She couldn’t seem to forget the stunned look on his face when he’d pulled away.
What would he do now? He could feel he had to avoid her. That might be the safest thing. But then she’d lose the renewed closeness they’d had for the past few weeks, and the thought of that hurt more than she’d have believed possible.
The scrape of chairs recalled her to the present, and she hurried to take her seat. Daad bowed his head for the silent prayer before meals, and she obediently closed her eyes. But all she could see against her dark lids was Aaron’s face.
Fortunately the boys more than made up for any silence on her part during the meal, and Daad made his own contribution, talking about the meeting he’d be attending tonight to organize the needed support for the Stoltzfus family. The dairy herd had already been dispersed to various farms close at hand, but the expense of trying to replace the lost milking equipment would be huge. Sometimes she thought the Englisch, with their insurance protecting them from the financial aspects of disaster, might have an advantage, but being Amish, they accepted what happened as God’s will.
Could it really be God’s will that a madman was torching barns and buildings throughout the community? She pushed the question away. The difficulty of understanding evil was always with them in this world.
With the usual bustle of after-supper work, Sarah was able to keep troubling thoughts at bay for a time, at least. But the house grew quiet once the boys were in bed, Daad out to his meeting and Mamm and Grossmammi settled in the living room with the mending.
Sarah sat down with them to help. “I heard today that they will be releasing Matthew Gibson’s body for burial this week. Apparently he has a plot next to where his wife and his son are buried at the cemetery on the other side of town.”
“That’s a relief,” Mamm said. “It troubled me, thinking of the poor man with no one to make his final arrangements for him. Have the police said anything yet about...?”
She let that die out, but Sarah knew what she meant. About how he died. “I don’t think there’s been any announcement, but I don’t see how it can be anything but a heart attack.”
It would be such a relief to know for certain. Still, at least Mac hadn’t been asking any more questions about it. Maybe that meant he was satisfied.
She took a pair of Noah’s pants from the basket and glanced at the knees. Or rather, at the holes where the knees used to be.
“What was Noah doing in these pants?” She held them up. “Crawling down the gravel lane on his knees?”
Mamm chuckled. “Women have been asking that question for as long as there have been little boys. You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
“Ach, his daadi was just the same at his age. Boys are wonderful hard on clothes, but we’d rather see them wearing out their knees than their bedsheets, ain’t so?”
Sarah smiled at her grandmother’s words. Grossmammi always seemed to have a bit of wisdom to impart, and her stories of “when Daadi was a little boy” were very popular with the boys.
“You’re right, and I’ll put patches on both of them without complaining. Maybe we could find some extra-strong fabric for the patches, and then—” Sarah stopped, listening. Had she heard what she thought? “Was that thunder?”
In a moment they were all sure. The rolling noise came from the west, and before they’d had a chance to speak, it grew louder.
“Sounds like a storm coming, for sure.” Mamm bundled her mending into the basket. “And every window open in the house. Sarah, you’d best get those quilts off the line.”
Sarah jumped to her feet. She’d nearly forgotten them. “Mrs. Burkholder would have something to say if I let them get soaked in a storm, not that it would be better than the way she treated them herself.” She hurried to the back door, scurrying out.
The rain hadn’t reached them yet, but the western sky flickered with lightning, coming faster as she watched and streaking from sky to ridge. If only the storm brought a decent rain! It seemed they’d been yearning for rain for years instead of weeks.
Grabbing a basket from the porch, she plunged out into the yard. She hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight, but with the way the lightning was coming near, she didn’t need one. She’d almost reached the clotheslines when the wind hit, rustling the thirsty grass and setting the quilts billowing.
Well, she’d hoped for a breeze to air out the musty quilts. She just hadn’t been looking for a gale. The wind swept across the valley, so strong it nearly took her breath away as she struggled toward the clotheslines.
It was going to be a job for more hands than she had to get the quilts down before the storm was right over her. She reached the first row. They snapped at her as if daring her to grab the clothespins and free them.
Struggling to capture the fabric in her arms, Sarah reached for the line. Lightning flashed again, flooding the lawn with garish light for an instant and leaving an imprint on her eyes even as it passed.
An imprint of the pale quilt she grappled with and behind it a dark silhouette—of a man, his hands like claws reaching for her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SARAH DODGED AN instant before the man could grab her, the billowing quilt providing the smallest of protection. She felt a hand, covered by the quilt, graze her arm. She spun away from it, instinct screaming at her to escape, run, hide like a rabbit stalked by a hawk.
Her heart pounded so loudly it deafened her. Think. She had to think, and quickly, before he caught her.
She’d gone the wrong direction—away from the house. She had to get back there, slam the door to keep him out. But he was between her and the porch.
She stumbled along the line of quilts, batting her way past them, trying to focus. Lightning flashed again, followed in seconds by the boom of thunder, disorienting her.
Circle around, some rational part of her mind said. Get on the other side of the second row of quilts, behind him. Quiet, don’t make a sound.
But her breath was coming in gasps. If she had enough air to scream...
She dared not scream. Mamm would come running if she did, and would run right into the man who was at least an arsonist and maybe worse.
Rounding the end of the first row of quilts, Sarah forced herself to stop. Don’t run mindlessly. Think.
Where was he? Still between her and the house, at least. Moving? She listened with every fiber of her being. Nothing. Just the wind and the rumble of thunder. But he was still there. She could sense him. Waiting. Listening as she was.
If she ran to the phone shanty... But even the smallest sound of dialing 911 would alert him to her location. She couldn’t possibly complete the call before he was on her.
She crept around the second row of quilts, her hand brushing one as it flapped in the wind. Carefully, carefully. Move under cover of the thunder. Get to the house. Lock the door, turn up the gaslights. He wouldn’t want to be seen.
Lightning flashed, seeming to crack the sky. As the thunder boomed, she moved swiftly, silently, past one quilt and behind the next. The faintest sound of grass rustling came to her ears, and she made out
the movement of other quilts. He was working his way along the row, checking behind each one. She couldn’t just freeze and hope he’d miss her.
Another crash of lightning, followed immediately by the thunder, loud enough to deafen. It was right over them. He was coming nearer, and she had to risk moving.
One step, then another. Her eyes probed the dark, trying to locate him. If she could only see him...but it wouldn’t help to know who he was if she didn’t live to tell anyone. Lightning again, dazzling her eyes, but against the fireworks she saw him—a dark shape at the end of the row.
He saw her, too. He lunged toward her. No more hide-and-seek in the dark. Just run, pray...
A few more feet and her foot struck the bottom step. Hope surged through her. Almost there. Almost—
Fingers grabbed her, grappling for her neck, jerking her back. One palm closed on her throat, nearly cutting off her breath. She struggled, trying to wriggle free, knowing if he got both hands around her neck she wouldn’t have a chance...
But she was weakening. He was too strong, and she was failing...
Another strobe of lightning, crash of thunder, and the skies opened, not in a gentle rain but in a soaking torrent, as if someone had emptied a bucket of water over her head. She gasped, realizing it had startled her assailant, too, and for a precious second his grip loosened.
Sarah lunged forward, reaching out toward the door and safety. Her fingers brushed a rope...brushed and clung. The bell. Even as his hands tightened on her throat again, she yanked.
The bell clanged, startling him. He stumbled backward but didn’t loosen his grip. She pulled the rope again and again, hard as she could. The clamor of the bell seemed to drown out even the rumble of thunder as the storm moved on. The peals rang out across the valley; anyone who heard would know it was an alarm. Lights began to go up in the house. Dogs all along the valley took up the chorus. She heard her mother calling out from inside the house...
