Abandon the Dark

by Marta Perry

  Running her fingers along the stitches, Lainey could see the difference between her own uneven efforts and Aunt Rebecca’s skilled, nearly invisible line of sewing. How patient Aunt Rebecca had been with her, never snatching it away to do something herself, but always gently encouraging.

  Lifting the quilt, she held it against her cheek, letting a picture form in her mind. She, Meredith and Rachel had been sitting around the dining room table while Aunt Rebecca started each of them on their first steps in making the quilts. Rachel, of course, was already a sewing pro at ten, but she and Meredith were all thumbs.

  Aunt Rebecca’s voice, gentle and laughing, seemed to float through the years, and the scene was as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

  And later, after the others had gone home and they’d cleaned up from supper, she’d snuggled beside Aunt Rebecca on the sofa. Uncle Isaac had sat in his favorite rocking chair with the newspaper, lowering it occasionally to smile at the sight of them stitching away, with Lainey mimicking her aunt’s movements as best she could.

  Smiling through a haze of tears, Lainey smoothed the small quilt out and folded it. This was a treasure, holding as it did such sweet memories. She wanted it in her bedroom where she could see it every day.

  As she bent to return the other materials to the chest, Lainey realized she hadn’t quite reached the bottom when she’d taken out the quilt. There was something else in the chest.

  She pulled out a sheaf of paper, memories again flooding back. When Uncle Isaac had realized how much she loved to draw, he’d brought home a whole ream of paper for her to use. Goodness only knew how many pictures she’d done that summer, but apparently Aunt Rebecca had saved some of them.

  She unfolded one after another. There were several sketches that had probably been intended to be Aunt Rebecca and Uncle Isaac, sitting in the rockers on the front porch. The proportion was off, but they were still recognizable.

  Then came an image of a tree with two girls hanging from the branches—Meredith and Rachel, no doubt. She’d have to show them how she’d seen them, with Meredith dangling upside down from her knees while Rachel hung from her hands, her apron askew.

  Smiling, Lainey unfolded the last one and sat staring. The smile faded from her face. This drawing was completely different from the others. Dark trees soared in the background, their jagged arms seeming to reach out with menace. An equally dark figure loomed over a small one lying on the ground, hands reaching out, grasping—

  She let the paper fall to her lap. Here it was. Proof to her, if to no one else, that her nightmares were more than a fantasy. The cat, suddenly seeming to sense her feelings, pressed himself between her and the picture, rubbing against her, mewing.

  Lainey patted him absently and lifted him off the paper, forcing herself to look more closely at the figure. But there was no recognizing the person in the shadow she’d drawn. If she’d ever known who it was, that knowledge was as far away as ever.

  * * *

  BY THE NEXT morning she still wasn’t sure whether she should show the image to Jake. He’d consider it confirmation of his theory, but even so, they were still no closer to identifying the person. So what was the point of opening up that can of worms?

  Maybe she should take the drawing with her when she went to see Aunt Rebecca. She must have had some idea about the drawing’s importance when she’d told Lainey to find it.

  Lainey’d reached that point in her argument with herself when she heard a knock at the front door. Glancing at the clock, then at her sweatpants and T-shirt, she shook her head. People in Deer Run faced the day a bit too early for her.

  It was Jake, and she hurried to unlock the door, self-consciously smoothing her hair as best she could. Why did he always seem to catch her when she was looking her worst?

  She swung the door wide. “You always seem to arrive before I’m ready to face...” The light words faded away when she saw Jake’s expression. He was grim, the strong lines of his face tight with a suggestion of emotion held back.

  He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  “What’s wrong?” Her heart did a stutter step.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” His tone was hard and uncompromising.

  Her mind whirled. Had he somehow found out what her aunt had told her? But why would that make him so angry?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His expression didn’t change. “You let me believe that the anonymous letters had to do with what happened here. They didn’t, did they?”

  Everything in her froze. “No.” She wouldn’t be a coward about it. Or at least, not more than she’d already been. “You know what happened in St. Louis.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Some officious busybody sent me a link to some of the stories. I suppose I should be grateful, since I wouldn’t find out about it from you, would I?”

  That stung, even through her numbness. “You’re not being fair. I can’t imagine you’d go around announcing your involvement in something you’re ashamed of to someone you’d just met.”

  “Just met? No, not then. But we’ve gone a bit past that stage, haven’t we?” His eyes held hers, demanding an answer.

  Lainey tried to take a deep breath, but she felt as if her pain and guilt were strangling her.

  When she didn’t answer he turned away with a brusque, dismissive gesture. “You didn’t trust me with the truth.”

  The truth. She’d known all along that the truth mattered to Jake. She’d ignored that knowledge, and now she was going to pay the price.

  She fought to keep her voice steady. “I didn’t tell you because I knew that when I did, you’d look at me the way you’re looking right now. As if I’m a pariah.”

  He took a step toward her, his expression changing to one of baffled anger. “This isn’t about what happened to you. I thought we had something important between us, but the whole time you were hugging this secret to yourself. How can I trust you after that?”

  Lainey’s heart was shredded to ribbons, but she managed to keep her chin up and her eyes dry. “Maybe that’s who I am, Jake—the kind of person who can’t be trusted with anything important.” Just like her mother. “I think you’d better go now.”

  She held her breath, not sure how long her control would last. If he tried to prolong this confrontation...

  But apparently Jake had said everything he’d come to say. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the house and out of her life.

  * * *

  IT TOOK HER great-aunt about sixty seconds to realize something was amiss. She took Lainey’s hand with surprising strength.

  “Was ist l-letz?”

  To her surprise, Lainey found she remembered the Pennsylvania Dutch phrase. What’s wrong?

  She tried to smile. “Nothing.”

  Rebecca shook her hand in demand. “Not Thomas?”

  “No, no, Thomas is doing fine. He’s going home this afternoon, I understand.” The Amish grapevine worked well, even though Lainey hadn’t dared approach Thomas’s hospital room again.

  “What?” Aunt Rebecca might falter a bit with the words, but her tone was uncompromising. “Knew from y...your letters.”

  Lainey could only stare at her great-aunt. “You could tell from my letters that something was wrong? But I tried to be so careful.” She’d been determined that not a hint of trouble would show in what she’d written. Obviously she’d underestimated Aunt Rebecca’s insight.

  “Tell me.”

  Lainey realized that tears were not far away, and she struggled to hold them back. Out in the hallway she could hear the clatter of trays and the sound of brisk voices, but here in Aunt Rebecca’s room all was still. The sunlight streamed through the window to touch their joined hands.

  “I was so ashamed. I didn’t want you to know.” She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “I got involved with a man...my boss. I knew it was wrong from the start.” How could she expect someone like Aunt R
ebecca to understand or forgive? But she wouldn’t try to whitewash it, not with the steady gaze of her aunt’s soft blue eyes on her face.

  “He told me that he and his wife had split up. I believed him.” She paused to examine that carefully. “At least, I wanted to believe him.”

  She couldn’t look at her aunt now, so she stared down at their clasped hands. “His wife took an overdose of pills. She’s all right...the paramedics got to her in time. But it all came out then.” She couldn’t stop the tears now. “I’m so ashamed. I never wanted you to know.”

  I never wanted you to be disappointed in me—that was what she really felt. Other people might condemn her, but Rebecca was the only one who would be disappointed. Who would have expected better from her.

  Silence. Finally she looked up, trying to steel herself for whatever she might see in her aunt’s face.

  Tears. Aunt Rebecca was crying too, soundlessly. Her hand clasped Lainey’s firmly as she struggled to speak. “God forgives a broken and contrite heart.” Maybe it was only Lainey’s imagination that made the words so strong and clear. “You must forgive yourself. And me.”

  “You?” She must have misunderstood. “There is nothing to forgive you for.”

  Aunt Rebecca shook her head, and a teardrop fell on the back of Lainey’s hand. “I wanted to keep you. But I let y-your mother take you.”

  Apparently even a broken heart could twist with pain. “You couldn’t have stopped her. I wanted to stay, but I knew even then that you couldn’t keep me. She’s my mother.” She wrapped her fingers around her aunt’s work-worn hand. “I’m glad to know you wanted me.”

  “Ja. Always.” Rebecca leaned forward, and Lainey put her arms around her, feeling the love and comfort that flowed from her.

  How different would her life have been if her mother had just gone on her way and left Lainey here? She asked herself the question she’d been pondering. Would she have been a different person, or would she have turned out the same either way?

  Impossible to tell, but one thing she did know. Her summer with Rebecca had shown her a life she might never have known otherwise. Maybe that life was what she’d been looking for ever since, with her constant fresh starts.

  She was here now. She could choose to stay. But how could she, after what had happened with Jake?

  The text signal on her cell interrupted a painful stream of thoughts about what might have been. Wiping her face with her palms, she picked it up to check the message, noting that the number was unknown to her, and then looked up at her aunt.

  “It’s from someone who is interested in purchasing the old mill property from you. Jake thought it might be wise to sell in order to pay the hospital bills, but if you don’t want to...” She left that open. Surely Aunt Rebecca had recovered sufficiently to make that decision herself.

  Rebecca seemed to consider for a moment, her gaze fixed on something far away, or perhaps long ago. Finally she nodded.

  “Ja. It’s time. Isaac would have wanted it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Rebecca nodded. “Time,” she said again. “You do it.”

  She was tiring, obviously. Small wonder after the emotions they’d shared.

  Lainey sent a quick response to the text and then stood. “All right. I’ll run out and show this person around, and we’ll go from there. We’ll do exactly what you want. All right?”

  Rebecca nodded. She leaned her head back against the chair. Lainey reached for her jacket and handbag, glad of some positive action that she could take. She’d help Aunt Rebecca with whatever arrangements she wanted to make, and then—

  The future seemed oddly blank. She’d just have to trust that, by then, she’d know the right thing to do.

  * * *

  FORTUNATELY LAINEY REMEMBERED the way back to the mill from her visit to the place with Jake. It took an effort to focus on the route and not let her mind stray off in the direction of what they’d talked about or how he’d looked and smiled.

  Spotting the lane, she turned into it, hoping she was right and wasn’t going to end up in some farmer’s field. But no, the lane looked familiar, even to the way it narrowed until the branches of the bushes on either side reached out to brush the sides of her car.

  She stopped at approximately the place where Jake had parked that day and double-checked her cell phone to be sure she hadn’t missed any messages.

  Nothing. The prospective buyer was apparently assuming Lainey would know he or she was coming.

  Lainey slid out of the car. A brisk breeze fluttered her jacket and sent a shower of yellow leaves whirling down to land on the roof of the car and catch in Lainey’s hair. She detached a stray leaf from her head and buttoned her jacket. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud, for the moment at least, and it was chillier than she’d expected.

  Since she didn’t spot another vehicle, she must have arrived first. After a moment’s mental debate, she slid her keys and cell into her jacket pockets and locked her bag in the car. No point in being burdened with anything she didn’t need if she was going to be climbing around in the old mill.

  Lainey’s initial thought was to wait with the car, but then it occurred to her that there might be an alternate route to the mill that she didn’t know about. She’d better go and check to be sure the buyer wasn’t wandering around the mill wondering where she was.

  The path she had taken with Jake was fairly obvious. Other people must come through here, or it would be grown over, wouldn’t it? The wooded hillside seemed quieter than it had been on her previous visit. A bird chattered once and fluttered from tree to tree, but that was all. Lainey made her way along the path, avoiding the brambles that reached out to her, unpleasantly reminded of her nightmares.

  Jake had held them back for her, she remembered. It seemed that as many times as she tried to banish him from her thoughts, he managed to slip back in.

  The path ended suddenly at the small stream, and beyond it the mill loomed. She stood for a moment, looking at it. Why would anyone want to buy it? For the land?

  Maybe the prospective buyer intended to tear down the building and put something else here. It was a rather isolated spot for a house, she’d think.

  The last time, Jake had held her hand as she crossed the stream on the stepping stones. The water seemed a bit deeper than it had that day, but the flat stones were still dry. Holding her breath, Lainey stepped to the first one, relieved when it didn’t wobble under her weight. Quickly, before she could start thinking about slipping into the no doubt icy water, she moved from stone to stone and reached the opposite bank.

  A few more steps took her to the entrance they’d used...the only one, as far as she could tell. She hesitated. No sign of anyone, but still—

  “Hello? Is anyone here?” At her call, a bird abruptly took flight from the eaves high above her. That was the only answer.

  Lainey went up the rickety steps and tried the door. With a shriek like the sound effects of a horror movie, it swung reluctantly open. She stepped inside, pausing a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim light. The sun had come out again, and it filtered through the boards of the mill. Lainey looked up, seeing dust motes swimming in the shafts of sunlight.

  “Hello?” she called again.

  “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  The voice, coming from behind Lainey so unexpectedly, jolted her nerves. She swung around, staring at the person who stepped out of the shadows.

  “Jeannette.” For an instant she could just gape at the bed-and-breakfast owner. “What are you doing here?”

  “Didn’t you get my message?” Jeannette came toward her, picking her way carefully across the wide planks of the floor, looking as poised and precise as if she were welcoming Lainey to her bed-and-breakfast.

  “Your message?” she echoed stupidly. “You mean you’re the person who’s interested in buying the mill?”

  Jeannette smiled, nodding her head. “We’ve been talking at cross-purposes, I’m afraid. Yes, I’m t
he person who is interested. I assumed you knew.”

  “Colin didn’t mention it to me. Maybe he thought we’d talked about it, since we’re neighbors.” There’d been no opportunity, at least not recently. And she’d been fairly preoccupied with other things, as well.

  Jeannette grimaced. “Careless of him, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

  “Yes, but—” Lainey’s gesture was meant to including the rambling structure and its surroundings. “Why on earth are you interested in this property? I suppose that’s not something a seller should say, but...”

  “I know. It doesn’t look like much, does it?” Jeannette glanced up at the stories above them. “Still, the place does have a certain charm. I thought something might be made of it.”

  “That would require a lot of rebuilding, I’d think.”

  “True enough, but it would be something quite unique in the end.” Jeannette smiled. “You’re supposed to be talking me into it, you know.”

  “Now we know why I’d never make a good salesperson.” She paused. She hadn’t seen Jeannette since that encounter with Laura in the parking lot. “I hope Laura is...all right.” Not ready to be committed, she thought, but could hardly say.

  Jeannette nodded. “She is doing better. I’m trying to get her interested in this project, as a matter of fact. We’ve talked about turning this into a bed-and-breakfast. I do feel she needs something to occupy her mind so she won’t dwell so much on the past.”

  Lainey wouldn’t have recommended restoring a dilapidated old building for a mental-health cure, but the strategy was probably sound. Apparently Laura had been released from the mental facility as being well enough to get along in the outside world.

  “I hope it works.” She glanced around again. “Well, what can I show you? I’m afraid I’m not an expert on grist mills. I didn’t even know what they were until I came here.”

  “I’m really more interested in what can be made of the structure.” Jeannette moved toward the steps to the second level. “Let’s go up. I’d like to get a look at the view from the top so I can visualize what we might do.”