BEFORE MICHAEL COULD regret telling Cathy anything about the private investigator, Allie came running back to them. She grabbed her father with one hand and Cathy with the other, so that she could skip along between them.
“Aunt Verna says that was an excellent paper. She put it up on the refrigerator so everyone can see it.”
“That’s a wonderful gut idea.” Cathy swung their clasped hands.
“Right—wonderful.” What was wonderful was the way Allie beamed at Cathy’s praise—cheerful, smiling, her face lit with pleasure. Even her brown eyes sparkled.
If this was the result of bringing her home to River Haven, then he’d done right for once. Now he had to figure out how to stay here. Here...and out of jail.
Allie let them go suddenly. “I have to go help Aunt Verna. She says you and Teacher Cathy should come and have lemonade and cookies. I get to help pour the lemonade. Come quick.” She smiled and corrected herself. “Komm schnell. You will, won’t you?”
She was looking at Cathy, and he saw that she could no more turn Allie down than he could.
“We’ll both be there in a minute,” she said. “I’d love some lemonade.”
Allie raced off again.
Michael watched her go, but his mind was on Cathy. He’d had no right to burden Cathy with his problems. Divorce...murder...investigators...those things were as far from Amish life as missiles and moon landings.
He felt her gaze on him. “Would you rather I didn’t come?”
“No... I mean, yes, I want you to have lemonade and cookies. Why would you think that?”
She seemed to find her smile. “You were looking pretty grim there for a minute.”
“Not about you. Never about you.” The words were out before he could stop them. Not that he wanted to when she was looking at him with a smile in those beautiful blue eyes. “Just wondering what I can do about...” He let that trail off. You weren’t going to bring her into your sordid problems, remember?
But Cathy seemed to take it for granted that he’d discuss it with her. “I just think maybe you should talk to Chief Jamison about it.”
He was shaking his head already before she’d finished. “If there’s anything I’ve learned it’s not to volunteer anything to the cops.”
“Why? Surely Chief Jamison should know if this private investigator is snooping around his town.”
“That’s not how it works.” Michael’s jaw tightened painfully. “After I found Diana, I wanted to help so much that I poured out everything—what we’d said, what I’d thought and even the trouble our marriage was in. But I learned. They twisted everything I said around to turn it against me.” He seemed to feel again the constant barrage of questions. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Chief Jamison isn’t like that.” She leaned toward him, intent on changing his mind. “He’s always been fair and honest with the Leit.”
“This is different. You don’t understand.” He shook his head. “Look, forget about it. It’s not your concern.”
Cathy drew back, attempting to hide the hurt she felt. But he could see it in her eyes and the slight tremble of her lips.
“You aren’t my business, but my scholars are. Anything that affects you will affect Allie.”
He couldn’t deny it, but still he shook his head. “Drop it, Cathy. Please.”
She gave a curt nod. They were still walking side by side as they approached the house, but they might as well have been a hundred miles apart.
By the time they reached the kitchen, he was berating himself. Why would he alienate one of the few people who believed in him? Sheer perversity, apparently. He stole a look at her face as he held the door for her. She was hiding the hurt now, but he’d seen it.
“Lemonade,” Allie declared as they came in. “Aunt Verna made oatmeal nut cookies.”
“Yum.” Cathy had found her smile. “That sounds delicious.”
Fortunately for him, between Aunt Verna and Allie they carried the conversation, while he sat there and tried to figure out what was wrong with him.
Aunt Verna switched from cookies to the work frolic at the school the next day. “We’re all prepared to go. I made a gelatin salad, so I’ll bring a cooler. And we can take lemonade as well.”
“I’m sure there will be plenty of food,” Cathy said. “There always is.” She glanced from Verna to him, and Michael thought she looked uneasy.
Was she afraid he’d show up, creating problems with those who hadn’t accepted him yet?
“You don’t need to worry. I won’t be there.”
“I didn’t...” Cathy began, but Allie interrupted her.
“Daadi, why aren’t you coming? Everyone is helping.”
“I...I can’t, not tomorrow.” He couldn’t very well tell her the real reason. “Aunt Verna will go with you, and Aunt Sarah and Onkel Lige, too.”
“But you should help. Why won’t you?”
“I’m busy tomorrow. But I’ll go another time and help Teacher Cathy with anything she wants me to do. Okay?”
Cathy stood before Allie could argue. “That’s fine,” she said, as if the question had been directed to her. “I’ll tell Allie to give you a message when I need some work done. Now, I’d better get home so I can help fix supper.”
“I’ll walk out with you.” He rose quickly and followed her out the door.
Once they were out of earshot, Cathy spoke over her shoulder, not turning to look at him. “If you don’t want to help that’s fine with me. But Allie was disappointed. She wants—”
“I know. She wants me to be like all the other dads, but I’m not. If I show up tomorrow, it might chase other people away.”
“Ach, that’s foolishness. No one would leave because you’re there.”
“Always looking on the sunny side, aren’t you? What if you’re wrong? What if Allie saw that I wasn’t wanted there? That would hurt her a lot worse.”
“You’re borrowing trouble, I think.” She turned now, meeting his gaze. “Are you sure it’s not yourself you’re fearing would be hurt?”
He stiffened. “I deserve anything that comes to me. Allie doesn’t.”
Cathy stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to understand what he really feared. Then she shook her head and walked on.
The question lingered in his mind as he watched her disappear into the belt of trees.
CATHY HEADED TOWARD HOME, the hurt like a weight in her chest. She couldn’t watch people in pain without wanting to help them. If Michael were a stranger, she’d feel that way, but this was much worse, because Michael was one of their own.
He didn’t believe he belonged—that was at the heart of the problem, she felt sure. He was caught between two worlds, unable to move.
When she was small, she’d found a dog stuck in a tangle of barbed wire once—struggling to free himself and just making it worse, snapping at her when she tried to help. She’d run for Daad, sure that he could make it better. She could still see his strong, gentle hands soothing the creature, talking softly as he pulled each strand loose.
That was Michael, but whose were the hands that would free him when he was determined to reject help? Her heart sank even further at the thought of the plan Sarah and Verna had hatched to bring him and his father together. And of the role she was supposed to play.
As Cathy rounded the barn she spotted a car coming up the lane that led to the main road and frowned a little. It wasn’t one she recognized. Instead of going on to the house, the driver stopped as he grew abreast of her. She thought he was going to roll down the window and speak to her, but instead he got out and came over to her.
“Hi there.” The middle-aged man was dressed casually in khakis and a plaid shirt—he might have been any Englischer she’d see on Main Street.
“Are you looking for the Brandt farm?” She glanced toward the house, but no one seemed to be around just now. If Daad had been expecting someone, he’d have been on the lookout.
“Is that where I am?” His face crinkled in smiles. “Well, that’ll teach me to ask directions from somebody I saw at a gas station. He said, ‘Go along the Jonestown Road about two miles. You’ll see a big red barn after about a mile, but don’t turn there. Go on past where the fruit stand used to be, and take the second or third road...’ I ask you, who could follow that?”
She had to smile at his comic imitation. “Yah, I’ve heard directions like that a time or two. Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’d be grateful. I don’t want to spend the afternoon driving around one back road after another. I’m looking for a place that sells plants. Forster Greenhouses, I think it’s called.”
A sliver of uneasiness crept in. “Are you looking to buy some annuals to plant? I know they have a big selection.”
“Always like to have some around.” His eyes were oddly opaque, making it difficult to imagine what he was thinking. “Is that far from here?”
She suppressed her wariness. She was imagining problems where they didn’t exist. “Not far, but you’ll have to turn around and go back to the main road to get there.”
“Back that way?” He glanced back down the lane. “Okay, will do. Then what?”
“Turn left and drive about a half mile. It’ll be on your left. You’ll be able to see the greenhouses.”
Yes, of course he would. So if he’d come through town, he’d have passed it. He could hardly miss it. And if he’d come the other direction...the uneasiness surged back. He’d said something about getting directions at a gas station, but there wasn’t one in that direction for at least fifteen miles.
“So you’re neighbors, I guess.” He still wore that genial smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know the Forster family, do you?”
“We’re neighbors,” she said noncommittally, while her mind raced. Who was he? He wasn’t local... She felt more sure of that with every word he spoke. And she didn’t think he’d turned down their lane by mistake.
“I guess you know that Michael Forster has moved back, then. Has a little girl, I guess.” His gaze wandered to the canvas bag she carried, filled with schoolwork. “You wouldn’t be the teacher at the Amish school, would you?”
She sent a quick glance toward the house again. No one. She’d have to handle this herself. She could, she told herself firmly.
“Since you don’t seem to need more directions, you’ll have to excuse me. My parents are expecting me.”
Cathy turned away, but he moved quickly alongside her. “Some reason why you don’t want to answer my questions?”
“I don’t see any reason why I should.” She managed a tight smile. “Excuse me.”
“Hey, I’m just looking for information for a client of mine. No harm in that, is there?”
Feeling anything she said might be the wrong thing, Cathy kept walking, her lips pressed together as if any unwary word might escape. She knew who he was now. A private investigator, Michael had said. Poking around where he’d lived in Harrisburg. Only, now he was here.
“What’s Michael Forster up to? Does his daughter go to your school?”
Ignoring him as best she could, she marched on toward the house. If he followed her, started pestering Mamm and Daad with questions...
She risked a quick glance, but apparently he’d decided he’d done all he could. He stood still now, staring at her. Cathy pressed down the instinct to run to the door. Somehow it seemed important to behave normally.
But when she reached the kitchen, it took only one look for her mother to know something was wrong.
“Cathy, why are you so pale? Is it that hot out this afternoon? Maybe you should take the buggy to school from now on.”
Mamm fussed around, not giving her a chance to respond as she pushed Cathy into a chair and produced cold water and then urged a plate of chocolate chip cookies on her.
“I’m fine, Mamm. It’s all right. I’m just a little late, that’s all.”
“I saw a car out there. Who was it?” Mamm planted her hands on her hips.
She shrugged, trying to decide how to tell the truth without upsetting her. “A stranger. He wanted directions to Verna’s greenhouses, so I told him.”
Mamm eyed her. “That wouldn’t take so long. What else did he want?”
Nothing for it but the truth, then. “He tried to ask questions about Michael and Allie. Looking for gossip, it seemed like. I’d never talk to an outsider about one of my scholars, you know that.”
“Yah, of course.” Mamm patted her shoulder. “You did right. But it’s upsetting. Ever since Michael came back, it seems like things aren’t the same.”
The urge she felt to defend him startled Cathy with its strength, but she had to push it away. Doing so would just alarm Mamm to no good purpose.
“I’m sure folks will settle down. After all, we’ve had people return from living Englisch before. It just takes time and patience.”
Apparently she hadn’t been cautious enough, because Mamm’s blue eyes were still dark with concern.
“If he’s going to come back to the church, yah. But is he? Verna and I were talking, and all she’d say was that we had to wait for him to decide. But is he going to stay? If not, why would he come at all?”
Cathy rubbed her forehead. Good questions, but not ones she could answer. “I don’t know.” Maybe because he was fleeing pain and uncertainty and searching for peace?
Peace, it seemed, was in short supply with that private investigator around. And Michael didn’t know he was here. He had to be told, and it seemed she was the one to tell him.
MICHAEL STOOD AT the kitchen sink after supper. He and Aunt Verna had worked out a routine in the evening. He cleaned up the kitchen while she supervised Allie’s bath and getting ready for bed. She said, and he felt sure it was true, that it was a pleasure for her. He’d heard the lift in her voice at the prospect.
Once Allie was ready, he’d take his turn tucking her in, telling a story and just talking. Upstairs sound had moved from the bathroom to the bedroom, so he finished drying the last pan and headed up.
He stopped in the hallway, listening to their voices. Allie’s dialect was improving every day, and she always spoke Pennsylvania Dutch to Aunt Verna now, sometimes pausing to search for a word or substituting an English one. That was a good Amish custom—popping in an English word for one that had no Amish equivalent.
His mother’s face appeared in his mind, and he seemed to hear her voice, talking to his child. But that could never be. Would his life have been different if Mamm had lived? She’d always been able to soften Daad’s rough edges. And to soothe him down, now that he thought about it. Without her, they’d pulled apart, and there didn’t seem to be any way to bridge the gap. “Michael?” Aunt Verna appeared in the doorway. “Allie is all ready for bed.”
“Denke.” A simple thank-you wasn’t enough for all she was doing, but she patted his cheek with a work-roughened hand as she passed him.
Allie sat on top of the log cabin quilt on her bed—with its pattern of pink, rose and white rectangles, it looked designed especially for a little girl. He sat down next to her, and she snuggled up to him.
“Tell me a story, Daadi. Tell me a story about when you were my age.”
“When I was eight—hmm, I’ll have to think about that. Let me see.” Actually, the story popped into his mind without effort. He smiled. “How about one about your aunt Sarah and me, and the time we got lost in the dark?”
“Yah, that sounds good. Did you really get lost?” She looked up, her small face expressing concern.
“Not very lost.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I was eight, so that means Aunt Sarah was seven, and I called her Sally.”
“Like the boppli,” she said, nodding.
“That’s right. Well, Sally and I had decided to build a hideout up in the woods. We wanted to cut some sticks to build it, so we borrowed Daad’s saw. It turned out to be a pretty nice hideout, and we played there the rest of the day. But then when we were going to bed, we remembered that we hadn’t brought the saw back down.”
“Was that bad?” She looked apprehensive.
“We hadn’t asked to use it, you see. So we’d be in trouble if he couldn’t find it.” Funny, that he could still remember that whispered conversation with Sally in her white nightgown, sitting up in her bed. “So we decided we’d better go and get it. It was dark, so we got a flashlight and slipped out of the house.” He could almost feel the clutch of Sally’s hand. She hadn’t let go of him the whole time.
“Everything looked different in the dark, especially when we got up to the woods. Sally started saying we were lost. She was almost crying when I finally spotted the hideout. So I grabbed the saw and we headed back down the hill. We kept hearing things...birds and mice and animals that come out at night. We got more and more scared and finally we started to run. We ran all the way down the hill and never stopped until we got safely home.”
“Did your daadi ever find out what you did?”
“We never were very good at keeping a secret, so finally we told him. We had to go to bed early three nights in a row, but I think he figured going up to the woods in the dark was punishment enough.”
She nodded, seeming satisfied. “Are you still scared to go in the woods at night?”
He sincerely hoped he hadn’t set her up for a bad dream. “No, not a bit. It’s kind of fun after dark. Sometimes you might see an owl or even a fox.”
“I’d like to make a hideout.” She yawned, rubbing her eyes. “I’ll tell Ruthie. Maybe we can make one.”
“Climb under the covers, and you can have a dream about a hideout of your own.”
Allie slid under the quilt, contented, and he bent to kiss her good-night, his heart flooding with love. She was safe and happy, and he would keep her that way.
He went downstairs, finding Aunt Verna settled in her favorite rocking chair with her mending. “Komm, sit,” she said.
“I will, but I’ll go take a walk around the greenhouses and outbuildings first. Make sure everything is secure.”
She nodded, smiling. “Gut.”
It was still light outside, though the sun was heading toward the horizon. Days were longer now, and people still dropped by the greenhouse after supper sometimes.
He walked slowly around the greenhouses, checking the doors. It was very quiet, and the peace seemed to seep into him. The strain and despair he’d felt after Alan’s call were gone. This place was a sanctuary. If anything could restore him, this would.
Michael rounded the corner of the greenhouse he and Lige had been working on and stopped. Cathy sat on the bench against the wall, very still, very peaceful. She had a dreaming attitude, as if unaware of her surroundings. Peace—there was that word again. Cathy’s slim figure leaned gracefully against the rough wooden back, and the slant of the setting sun turned her hair to gold.
The face that could quicken with laughter or melt into tenderness showed a serenity he didn’t want to disturb, but she must be here waiting for him. For several moments he delayed speaking, but then the smallest unwary movement made enough noise to penetrate her absorption.
Cathy swung around, her face springing into life—into a moment of joy that disappeared almost before it registered. But he’d seen it. He put it away to consider later as she became grave.
“Michael. I thought you’d come out again.”
“Why didn’t you come to the house?” He sat down next to her, making the bench creak.
“I thought you’d be putting Allie to bed.” She smiled. “You wouldn’t appreciate my coming in and getting her all excited, would you?”
“We’re always glad to see you.” His voice was warmer than he’d intended it to be.
She shrugged. “It seemed better to wait. I’d have come to the house in a few minutes, but I’d rather talk to you without anyone else around.”
“Something’s wrong.” He came to the obvious conclusion. “Tell me.”
She hesitated, and he realized that whatever it was, was something she thought would hurt him.
“Out with it.” He covered her hand with his and felt it warm under his touch.
“You told me earlier about the private investigator your friend said had been asking questions where you used to live.” She took a deep breath, as if to arm herself against hurt. “He’s here.”
“Who?” He felt off balance.
“The private investigator. At least, I think that’s who it must have been. He didn’t actually say that, but I thought so. Maybe I’m wrong.” Hope flared briefly in her face.
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Just tell me what happened. Where did you see this man?”
“Sorry.” She managed a brief smile. “That wasn’t very coherent, was it? I’ll try to do better. When I went home this afternoon, I saw a car coming down our lane. The driver stopped, wanting to talk to me.”
He was frowning now, not liking the sound of this. “About what?”
“First he acted as if he’d become lost. He wanted directions.” She gestured around them. “To the greenhouse.”
“I see. Not a local, then.” Anyone local would have known where they were without asking.
“No. I’d never seen him before. He was very friendly, wanting to chat, but he made me feel uncomfortable. As if there was something else going on.”
Alarm threaded through him. “Did he threaten you?” He clasped her hand in both of his.
“Nothing like that. But when I started to walk away, he kept asking me questions about you. I didn’t answer. I was afraid he’d come to the house and bother Mammi and Daad, but he didn’t.” She seemed relieved to have it said.
“What made you think he was the private investigator?”
She shook her head ruefully. “Didn’t I say? He spoke of a client who wanted to know. If you hadn’t already talked to me about the private investigator, I wouldn’t have thought of it. But I still wouldn’t have talked about you.”
“I know that. I think you’re right—I don’t see who else it could have been.” It shouldn’t be this much of a blow. He had already known that the man had been investigating in Harrisburg. It only made sense that he’d follow them here.
“I’m sorry.” Cathy’s voice was soft. “I wish I didn’t have to tell you, but I thought you should know.”
“It’s better that way.” He squeezed her hand, even as he thought he shouldn’t be touching her.
But she was so warm, so loving. And so not for him.