by Marta Perry
“You felt guilty.” Sarah supplied them.
“I did. I felt as if it was my fault for not loving her enough.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “I wanted to help her, but everything I said just seemed to make matters worse. She expected me to save her, and I couldn’t.”
He stared bleakly at the past until Sarah put her hand over his.
“I understand,” she said softly. “But there was nothing you could do. You know that.”
“I do. But it doesn’t make it easier. I felt...” He struggled for the words to describe it. “I felt as if I couldn’t risk loving again. Failing again. That was all right. I didn’t want anything else—just to raise my girls the way I should and make it up to them. I didn’t have any desire to find someone else. And then...and then I started having feelings for you. I kissed you.” His gaze touched her face and then skittered away.
He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. She just sat, warmth and sympathy flowing from her as it always did. A person could count on that with Sarah. You knew what you were getting with her.
He backed away from that thought quickly. “It took me by surprise, Sarah. I knew I’d been feeling attracted to you, but I didn’t know it was going to happen, and after it did...well, I didn’t know what to say. I’m not sure I’m ready to feel this way about you.”
He hated this indecisiveness. But at this point in his life, with his children to consider, he couldn’t move forward with Sarah unless he meant marriage. Unless he meant forever. Was he ready to risk that again?
“It’s all right. I know.” She sounded as if her throat was too tight to say more, but she forced herself. “I care about you. You must know that. But I won’t ask for something you can’t give.”
Her words seemed to strike him in the heart. He held her gaze, aware again of the feelings tumbling around inside him, longing to take the next step but afraid. Afraid to fail Sarah, of all people. But at least he knew this much. “I would do anything not to lose you as a friend.”
“That’s one thing you never need to worry about.” Her fingers closed over his for an instant. “I will never stop being your friend.”
* * *
SARAH WAS RELIEVED to be back at the shop the next day. It didn’t free her from curious glances or anxious questions as to how she was, but at least she could stay busy. Keeping occupied was the only way to stop thinking about Aaron for more than a minute at a time.
Aaron—caught between his irrational guilt over Mary Ann and his longing to move on. To move on with her. Sarah held the thought against her for a moment, feeling its warmth.
But could he ever get past his feelings of responsibility? That was inherent in him, and she didn’t want to see him without that part of his character. If only he could see that what went wrong with Mary Ann didn’t mean he couldn’t love again. If Sarah could help him see that...
And there she was, caught back in the endless circle of questions. It was better not to dwell on it. To trust that in this, as in everything, it was God’s will.
Allison seemed to understand her need without explanations. She seized the box that held Mrs. Burkholder’s quilts and began to spread one out on the table.
“At least these smell better now. You’d better have a look and separate the wheat from the chaff. They all look uniformly dismal to me.”
“It’s a good thing our business doesn’t rely on your quilt expertise.” Sarah managed a fairly credible light tone. “There’s more here than that. Don’t you agree, Becky?”
Becky traced the intricate design of a postage-stamp quilt done in a Sunshine and Shadows pattern. “That’s certain sure.”
“Good thing I have my sales and advertising skills to recommend me, then. Tell me what’s special about this quilt, besides the fact that it looks as if Mrs. Burkholder stored it in a hayloft.” Allison flicked at a wisp of straw with her fingertip.
Sarah nodded to Becky, curious as to what the girl would say.
“These tiny postage-stamp-sized pieces are difficult to work with at best,” Becky said, touching a tiny square. “To use those in a design like Sunshine and Shadows, where the colors seem to move in a wave from light to dark to light again—ach, that’s hard to arrange with the tiny pieces. It’s like the woman who made this quilt could visualize the whole quilt top so well that she knew where each tiny square fit.”
Allison smiled, obviously impressed by Becky’s passion. “I bow to the superior knowledge of you two experts. How hard is it going to be to get it in shape to show?”
Sarah and Becky exchanged glances. “I’d be wonderful glad to do it,” the girl stated. “It’ll take time, but be worth it.”
“Speaking of worth,” Sarah said, “if I know Mrs. Burkholder, she won’t part with a cent for the cleaning and repair. In fact, she’ll probably try to charge us for exhibiting it at the festival.”
“She won’t succeed.” Allison’s tone was firm. “I’ll see to that. If she wants to sell it at the festival, we’ll take our usual commission. I’ll be happy to confront the woman.”
She would, too. When Allison took on her brisk businesswoman’s attitude, Sarah was happy to leave things to her. “Speaking of confronting people...” she murmured.
Allison nodded. “I suggest we both plan to go to Julia’s house later this afternoon. I agree with you that she shouldn’t be alone when she does it.”
“Good.” In the back of Sarah’s mind had lurked the worry that Julia would attempt to confront Donna on her own, and if there were indeed some man involved who was trying to take advantage of Julia, that wouldn’t be safe.
Becky had watched this exchange with curiosity in her blue eyes, but she asked no questions. Allison had been right about hiring Becky. She seemed to have all the qualities the shop needed.
And while Sarah didn’t think she’d be backing away from running the shop, it was certainly possible that Allison might want to spend less time here. Especially if she and Nick married, which Sarah felt confident they would.
Allison turned away from the table to consult the notes on her phone. “By the way, I talked to the newspaper editor about giving us some advance space to drum up local interest in the festival. He seems enthusiastic about it and wants some photos and a story about how we’re turning the old theater into a venue for the event. The idea is that the paper will show the progress, so we need you and Aaron to make some final plans about the display racks and how to use the space. Do you think you can do that soon?”
If Becky weren’t there, Sarah might be able to tell Allison just why she didn’t want to do something that would result in her being alone with Aaron right now. But his sister was already nodding enthusiastically.
“Aaron will be happy to,” she said. “I’ll tell him to set it up with you, Sarah.”
“Denke, Becky.” It was all she could say.
“Oh, and I was supposed to tell you that Emily wanted to see you. She came in every hour yesterday, I think, asking about you.”
“I’ll run over to the bookshop and let her see that I’m back to normal.” Emily was a sweet woman, but inclined to fuss over everything.
“Why don’t you do that now,” Allison suggested. “I think we can safely delegate decisions about the rest of Mrs. Burkholder’s quilts to Becky. And I’m supposed to remind you not to do too much today.” Her smile flashed. “Your mother’s orders.”
“She worries too much.” And everything that had happened recently had just added to her worries. Mamm had always thought her kinder were safe when they were home on the farm, but now the outside world had struck at them there, as well. Mamm was struggling with it, trying to balance her trust in God’s providence with her tendency to hover over her family.
“Maybe Emily can assure people I’m fine, and they’ll stop asking me.”
“You can try, but
I doubt it,” Allison said, grinning.
Leaving them to deal with the shop, Sarah started down the hallway to the bookshop. In that short distance she was stopped twice for anxious questioning, once by the young attorney whose office was upstairs and a second time by a customer leaving the bookshop. Sarah escaped into Emily’s haven, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw that no other shoppers were in the store.
Emily came rushing toward her, her fluffy white curls bouncing. “Sarah, you’re here. I’m so glad. When I heard, I was afraid you been badly hurt.” She threw her arms around her. “You’ve always been so kind and helpful to me, and I just felt helpless to do anything for you.”
“It’s kind of you, Emily.” She disengaged herself gently. “I’m fine, as you see. Just a few bumps and bruises, that’s all.”
Emily surveyed her anxiously. “And they still haven’t caught this person. It’s terrible. I don’t know what the police are about, letting someone run loose to set fires and attack young girls.”
Sarah decided it was pointless to argue about whether she was a young girl or not. It wouldn’t change Emily’s alarmed attitude.
“I’m sure they’re doing everything they can,” she murmured. “It’s not easy to find someone who uses the dark for cover.” Aaron’s belief that she was a target because the firebug thought she could identify him niggled in the back of her mind. “I’ve been close to him twice, and all I could say is that it was definitely a man.”
“With all those modern methods of determining the guilty party, I’m sure they could do better. Still, I suppose in a small town we don’t have access to all the DNA testing and that sort of thing.” Emily sounded wistful, as if she’d like to encounter the characters from her favorite television show on the streets of Laurel Ridge.
“Mac knows everyone in the area,” Sarah said firmly. “He’ll find out who it is if anyone can.”
Emily didn’t look convinced. “Well, I’m glad you’re all right, in any event. I’m sure you were wise to stay home a day to recover. You missed all the busybodies who kept coming into the shop for the latest news.”
Sarah suppressed a smile when she thought of Becky’s report. “It was good,” she said solemnly.
“And I have a little gift for you.” Emily bustled to the counter, leaving Sarah to follow her. “I was going to give it to Becky or Allison to give to you if you weren’t back today.”
“You don’t need to do that...” Sarah began, but Emily was already pressing an illustrated history of quilting into her hands.
“I want to. I’m sure you know everything that’s in this book already, but I was looking through the stock for something suitable, and I thought you’d like it.”
“It’s lovely,” she said, leafing through the pages. “That’s so kind of you.”
Emily beamed. “You’ve done so much for me since I took over the bookstore. It’s just a way of saying thank you.”
Since giving the gift obviously meant much to her, Sarah decided not to argue. “It’s always a pleasure to help out,” she said. “Oh, and I’ll be going over to Julia Everly’s house this afternoon, so if you have anything for her, I’ll be glad to take it.”
“I don’t believe anything has come in for her lately.” Emily turned away to check her records, handling the computer with an ease that belied her fluffy little-old-lady manner. “No, she hasn’t ordered anything in over a month. But tell her I’d be happy to bring anything she wants. Poor soul, she must be getting bored, being stuck in the house so long.”
“I’ll tell her.” But Sarah frowned, remembering the day she’d noticed Gus Hill in Blackburn House and seen him enter the bookstore. He seemed an unlikely patron for Emily’s shop. “I saw Gus Hill coming in here not long ago, and I just assumed he was picking up something for Julia.”
Emily appeared distressed. “Yes, he did come in, and it made me uneasy. Not that he doesn’t have a perfect right to read, but he always looks so disreputable. I don’t think my regular customers would like it. But he didn’t speak to me. Or even glance at any books. He just sort of loitered for a few minutes, and then he left.”
Maybe he’d lingered in the bookstore long enough for Sarah to go away. Had he been avoiding her? She hadn’t heard if the fire investigator had tracked him down. Gus might not want to run into her or anyone who would urge him to talk to the man. Still, it was odd. If he had some real reason for avoiding questions...
But that wasn’t rational. Gus couldn’t be involved in the fire setting, because the destruction of the barn had led to Julia’s thinking of selling the property. If that happened, he’d lose the only home he’d known for the past twenty years or so, along with whatever Julia might pay him for his nonexistent work. Sarah couldn’t believe he’d willingly risk it.
Still, the fact that he’d been in the building for no apparent reason left her feeling uneasy. What was he doing here?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ON THE RIDE to Julia’s house in Allison’s car that afternoon, Sarah seized the chance to talk with her friend about her sighting of Gus Hill loitering in Blackburn House. Allison didn’t seem to be overly impressed.
“He’s not a desirable character to have around, I agree, but I don’t see what nefarious purpose he could have in hanging around. Even if he were the arsonist—”
Sarah shook her head. “I can’t believe he’d risk losing the only home he has. He must know that no one else would treat him as well as Julia has.”
“I agree with you, remember?” Allison glanced at her. “I can see it worries you, but really, what did he do? We can’t prevent the public from coming into the building, even if sometimes we might want to.”
“I know, I know. It just makes me uncomfortable. He ducked into the bookstore as if he was avoiding me, not that I especially wanted to run into him, anyway.” Talking about it made it seem even less threatening, but it still troubled her.
“Maybe he was toying with the idea of talking to you and chickened out when he saw you. If so, it’s more likely that he’s afraid you’ve been bad-mouthing him to Julia.” Allison smiled. “Which wouldn’t be hard to do.”
That made more sense than anything else she’d thought of. “That could be, I guess. But I haven’t said anything that other people haven’t, and probably in stronger terms.”
“I’d forget about him,” her friend advised. “The arsonist is the one who’s a threat to you.”
“Still, the last I heard Gus was still avoiding Mac and the arson investigator.” Sarah knew all the reasons why that was like him, but even so...
“I didn’t mention it, because you were worried enough,” Allison said slowly, not looking at her, “but Mac did catch up with Gus. They questioned him.”
A shiver of alarm went through her. “But why didn’t you tell me? What did he say?”
Allison hesitated, slowing as they approached Julia’s drive. “Nick says Gus claimed he didn’t know anything about the fires, of course. But he said he saw an Amish boy ‘sneaking around’ that garage where the fire was.” She darted a look at Sarah. “He said it might have been Jonah.”
“But—but it couldn’t be. Anyway, Jonah wasn’t the person who attacked me.”
“I know. That’s one reason I didn’t mention it, since it doesn’t really matter now. And there’s no point in worrying about it,” she added firmly. “So don’t start.”
Sarah managed a smile she didn’t feel. Thank the good Lord Jonah had witnesses to prove he couldn’t have attacked her.
They were pulling into Julia’s driveway by then, and they’d need to focus on the upcoming interview with Donna. Sarah’s stomach felt queasy at the thought. At least she could count on Allison to do the talking, assuming she could wrest control from Julia. They were two strong-willed women.
Donna came to the door in answer to their ring. �
�Julia’s waiting for you,” she grumbled. “It seems the four of us are to have a conversation. I don’t know what all the mystery is about, but she never tells me anything.”
Sarah thought she detected a trace of nervousness behind the complaining tone. Donna might sense a slight change in Julia’s attitude toward her, and a guilty conscience would do the rest.
“Come in and sit down.” Julia sat up very straight, even her hair seeming to bristle. “You, too, Donna. This concerns you.”
They’d no more than sat down when Julia launched the attack, giving no one else a chance to speak. “Donna, I asked Allison and Sarah to be here to witness this conversation. You’ve been stealing from me.”
Her cousin flushed with what seemed righteous anger. “You have no right to say a thing like that to me. Talk about ingratitude. After all I’ve done to help you, sacrificing my time—”
“You may as well stop right there,” Julia said, her voice sharp. “You’re no fonder of me than I am of you, but I’d rather not have a relative of mine in jail.”
Donna paled at that. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak.
“Now, then,” Julia said briskly. “Here’s what I know you’ve taken—an antique album quilt, a silver chafing dish and a set of silver salt and pepper shakers. There may be other things, but I won’t be able to confirm that until I can do a thorough search of the attic. I’m giving you the chance to confess here and now and save everyone a lot of trouble.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Some of the strength came back into Donna’s attitude. “I suppose this all comes about because Sarah couldn’t find some old quilt that you probably got rid of years ago.” She sent a look of active dislike toward Sarah.
