MICHAEL REALIZED HE was walking back home even faster than he’d gone. An outside observer, he thought wryly, might even say he was fleeing. And he’d be right.
Slowing his pace as he neared the house, he tried to think what had possessed him to go there. He knew it was dangerous for him to be alone with Cathy. She was sweet, innocent and loving—and he was afraid of doing the wrong thing with her, just as he was with Allie. Caught up in the warmth of her sympathy he’d almost forgotten that he was to blame for her problem.
Cathy faced losing the job that was the most important thing in her life because of him. The worst part of it was that he could do nothing. She’d probably been horrified to hear him say he’d go to the school board. If anything, that would tip the scales against her.
No, the best thing he could do for Cathy was to leave her alone. Even if, through some miracle, he was cleared of all suspicion in Diana’s death, he still wasn’t the man for her. After he’d failed so miserably, how could he risk marriage again?
He emerged into the yard to spot someone sitting on the back porch. Alan Channing, obviously waiting for him.
Michael strode quickly to the porch. “Alan. It’s good to see you. If you’d told me you were coming...”
“That’s a little hard to do when your cell phone is turned off.” Alan smiled, pumping his hand. “You’re really getting sucked into this life, aren’t you?”
“It’s got a lot to recommend it,” he said, a little annoyed by the unconscious superiority of Alan’s comment. “I use the phone so seldom it’s a nuisance to keep it charged up. You’re back in the area again already?”
He shrugged. “A minor hiccup with one of our customers. It was resolved in the office, but the old man thought it warranted a personal visit, so I turned on the charm.”
The old man being Alan’s father-in-law, he knew.
“I’m glad to see you anyway. Didn’t Aunt Verna welcome you?”
“Sure thing.” Alan gestured with the coffee mug he’d apparently set on the porch railing. “She wanted to feed me pie, but I said I’d wait for you.”
“Good, I’m glad.” For more reasons than one. His mind had gotten back on track after being derailed by his feelings for Cathy. He’d intended to talk to Alan in any event. He might be able to shed some light on the “friend” of her mother’s Allie had mentioned.
“I wanted to see if you’d thought any more about that job I mentioned.” Alan glanced around, as if wondering what the appeal of this place was. “I understand it’s still open.”
The temptation to run away was there, but his decision had already been made. “Thanks. I appreciate it, but I’m staying here. It’s a lot better for Allie than going to another strange place.”
Alan nodded, seeming to understand. “Allie’s most important, I know. I always seem to get here after she’s gone to bed. Tell her I said hello, will you?”
“Sure thing.” Michael hesitated. “Speaking of Allie, she said something the other day that has me wondering.”
“What’s that?”
Wariness showed in Alan’s face, startling Michael. What did his friend have to be wary of?
“She said that one time when she went to stay overnight at your house, she saw someone heading for our place. A man. She referred to him as Mommy’s friend. Who was she talking about?”
“How...how would I know?” Alan made an effort to smile. “You sure she knew what she was talking about? Kids that age can imagine things. Anyway, how could she see anything?”
Doubt settled in. Alan was protesting too much. He might have been convinced if Alan had stopped with a simple denial.
“You know something,” he said, his voice flat. “What was Diana up to?”
Alan stared at him and then glanced quickly away. “I don’t know, not for sure.”
Impatience rode him. “Okay, then, what do you think was going on?”
“Suspicion, that’s all we had.” He grimaced. “You know how it is. Diana kept asking if we could have Allie for the night. Of course, we were glad to help out, but...well, it made us wonder if there was a man in the picture.”
Michael fought down anger. Another man. So that was what her talk about having a little time apart meant.
“Who was he?” He shot the question at Alan.
“I don’t know. Really, neither of us did.” He seemed to attempt to force certainty into his voice. It didn’t work.
“You know something.” His fists clenched. “What is it? You...” He stopped, aware of something shamefaced about the way Alan evaded his eyes. “You? It was you?”
“No!” Alan held up both hands as if to fend him off. “Not me. Not really.”
“What do you mean, not really? Either you were having an affair with my wife or not.”
“No, no. It never got that serious. It’s just... She was...” His voice died out. He cleared his throat and started again. “A flirtation, that’s all. She let me kiss her once. Afterward I could hardly look at myself in the mirror. I’m not that kind of guy. I love my wife.” There was desperation in his face when he looked at Michael. “Afterward...that last month before she died...that’s when I thought she was hiding something.”
The urge to punch someone or something ebbed slowly away, to be replaced by a determination to get to the end of it.
“Why? What made you think that?”
“We both did. Diana asked us to have Allie twice before...before that last night. And Diana said something odd. She said she was going to have the life she should have had.”
She should have had. Michael put that thought away to consider later. He had to make sure he had everything Alan knew, because he didn’t think they’d ever see each other again.
“Allie caught a glimpse of the man once. You must have been curious to see who Diana preferred. Don’t tell me you didn’t try to see him.”
Fine beads of sweat had formed along Alan’s hairline. He was trying to decide whether to talk.
“All right, then, I did. But it didn’t amount to much. I couldn’t very well walk over and introduce myself. You know how far it was from our windows to your front walk, and there’s that cedar tree in the way. I just got a glimpse of him.”
“So you got a glimpse. Did you know him?”
“No, no.” He sounded startled at the thought. “He was a stranger. Maybe about our age—average height, not heavy or anything.”
“What about his face? Hair? Coloring?”
“Khakis, a dark shirt, I think. He had a windbreaker on, and a ball cap. Just looked ordinary, that’s all.”
“Would you know him again?”
Alan was already shaking his head before he got the question out. “I couldn’t possibly identify him. Listen, Michael, you’ve got to keep me out of this. If my wife hears about it...”
He didn’t need to say more. He wasn’t going to do anything to risk his marriage or his cushy job with his father-in-law.
“Right.” His jaw tightened with the effort not to say what he thought of him. “You won’t mind if I don’t invite you in.”
Alan turned away quickly as if afraid he’d change his mind. “Sorry,” he muttered and hurried to his car.
Michael watched it peel out of the driveway. So that was it for his friendship with Alan. All that support...easy enough to do, especially when Alan knew about the other man. And didn’t want to say, for fear of his own relationship coming out.
It wouldn’t have needed to. Alan could have helped clear him, but he’d been too worried about himself. As for that helpful job offer...clearly Alan would have been happier if Michael and Allie were safely on the other side of the country from him.
He knew more now about what had gone on in Diana’s life in those last months, but was it going to do him any good? Jamison would listen with an open mind, but if the city police talked to Alan, he couldn’t count on any help there.
He headed inside. Maybe a piece of Aunt Verna’s pie would take the bad taste out of his mouth. He had a piece of the puzzle now, at the cost of what he’d thought had been a friendship, but he wasn’t sure how much good it was going to do.
CATHY HAD HEADED straight to the fire company grounds after dropping Allie off from school. She’d promised to help Joanna set up her stand for the Mud Sale so she was here, though she’d rather be somewhere else. Somewhere quiet, where no one would know about the trouble brewing at the upcoming school board meeting.
“What are you fidgeting about?” Joanna handed her one end of the line she was stringing to hang some of the lighter-weight items. “You look as if your mind is a thousand miles away.”
I wish I were. “It’s nothing. Too long a school day. I’m like the kids—I need a recess.” Before Joanna could voice the argument she saw forming, she hurried on. “Where’s Rachel? I thought she’d be here.”
Exasperation flashed in Joanna’s eyes. “Her daad raised a fuss. As if he couldn’t dish up his own supper when she had it all ready for him. I think he’s the most selfish man I ever met.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” If there was anything Rachel’s friends agreed on, it was that her father imposed on Rachel’s sweet disposition with his tyrannical ways.
“She said she’d stop by later, but I told her not to bother. She can help on Saturday. You’ll be here, won’t you?”
“Bright and early,” Cathy said. She knew the format. Joanna couldn’t put out the items she’d be selling until Saturday morning, and it would be a rush to have everything ready before the first customer showed up.
Joanna’s only answer was a distracted nod, since she’d noticed that one of the hooks for the line was crooked. The wooden booths were stored from one event to another, and sometimes they came out a little the worse for wear.
Given a moment when her thoughts weren’t distracted, Cathy’s mind went immediately back to the things that troubled her. If she managed to stop worrying about the school board meeting, she’d switch back to Michael, and that was almost worse.
He’d left so abruptly that she’d remained standing there in the barn for a good twenty minutes, trying to wrap her mind around what had happened between them. They’d hardly touched, but she had never felt closer to anyone else in her life. It was as if their minds and hearts touched, if not their hands or their lips.
Did it frighten Michael to be so close to her? He seemed sometimes to believe that he’d never be free of the stain of Diana’s death, never be able to live a normal life.
She’d been relieved not at the pain he’d undergone with his wife, but simply that he’d said it aloud. A thing that was kept secret and hidden from daylight could fester and poison the whole body.
But Michael might not see it that way. Probably the only reason he’d spoken was that he’d been rocked off his balance by the thought that he was responsible for the loss of her job.
As for her...well, looking back over everything that happened, she couldn’t see a decision that she’d change if she had it to do over again.
No, not even tumbling into love with Michael. It hurt already, and it would probably hurt worse before it was over, but she could never regret having experienced such love.
“You’re worrying about the school board meeting, aren’t you?” Joanna’s question was so far from what she was thinking that for an instant she couldn’t come up with an answer.
“I suppose,” she said at last. “There’s nothing I can do about it, so it’s silly to worry.”
“If you tell me it’s God’s will, I’ll shake you,” Joanna declared, planting her hands on her hips. “There’s nothing remotely good or truthful about the machinations Zeb and Lizzie Stoltzfus are going through to get rid of you.”
“Maybe so, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Now, there’s where you’re wrong. There’s plenty to be done, and Rachel and I are more than eager to help. We can organize any number of people to attend that meeting and raise a fuss over what’s going on. It’s simple.”
Cathy was already shaking her head. How could she convince Joanna that everything in her cringed at the thought of an open fuss about her? Joanna didn’t fear anything, and she never had.
“I can’t,” she protested. “Please, Joanna, try to understand. If they don’t want me teaching the kinder, there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll have to leave.” Her voice choked on the words.
“If you’re thinking about the scholars, you’ll stay and fight, not give up. Everyone knows what a wonderful teacher you are. How will those kinder feel if you just give in because of a few people? You can’t let them make decisions for you.”
“I’m not.” But what Joanna said seemed to echo something Mamm had told her. Was it true? She wanted to deny it, but a tiny doubt niggled at her.
“Here’s Michael,” Joanna announced. “Maybe he can talk sense into you.” She swung around and busied herself at the back of the stand.
Michael reached out and took a screwdriver from her hand, making a show of securing the screws that held the stand together. “What is your friend so upset about?”
He didn’t look at her, and Cathy suspected he didn’t like having been maneuvered into this situation.
“Joanna is a very strong personality. She’s upset that I might lose my teaching position, and she wants me to fight back. It’s what she would do, but I don’t think I can do it.”
“You should. Don’t you think I’d do it if I could? I’d tell those people what I think about this in a heartbeat, but I know it would make things worse, not better.”
She was taken aback at the passion in his voice. For a moment she let herself envision him standing up to the school board for her. But he was right—it would be a mistake.
“Denke, Michael. I...I wish I could be a person who’d do that.”
He was silent for a moment, and then he shook his head. “I guess you have to be true to yourself. Just don’t forget that you’re a strong person, too, and you’re important to all those children. There’s nothing false about you. You—” He stopped abruptly.
He’d seemed to be talking about her, but she suspected someone else had been in his thoughts, prompting what he’d said.
“What is it, Michael?” she said, keeping her voice soft and her eyes on the piece of twine that she was winding around her fingers. “Something about Diana, ain’t so?”
His jaw tightened so much it seemed it would shatter. “Diana.” He repeated the name, and she sensed a struggle between the need to speak and the desire to keep silent. “I talked to my old neighbor last night,” he said abruptly. “A guy named Alan Channing. A friend—well, I thought he was a friend.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “That was before I knew he’d had a thing for Diana.”
He didn’t seem to hear her gasp, which was probably just as well.
“Not an affair, he claimed.” Michael might have been talking to himself. He seemed totally unaware of her in that moment. “Just a kiss or two. As if that made it better.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She couldn’t find anything else to say.
He focused on her suddenly. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you’re the only one I can say it to.”
“Of course you should be telling me. You have to confide in someone.”
“That’s not the worst of it. He’s convinced there was someone else—the man Allie saw. The friend.” His voice rasped on the word.
“But, Michael—” Realization hit her. “That could be the one. The person who killed her. Did he tell the police?”
“No. And he won’t. He’s too busy trying to keep his own infatuation secret.”
“But you could tell them what he said. They could look for him.”
“They could, but they won’t. Without Alan to back me up, I have nothing, except more motive for me.”
“But surely—” Wouldn’t he tell the truth if questioned by the police? Surely someone who’d been a friend wouldn’t let Michael go on suffering.
Cathy had to force herself to face the obvious truth. If the man had a conscience, he wouldn’t have stayed silent this long.
She didn’t want to give up on the chance. Surely there was some way to make him speak. But Michael clearly didn’t think so.
“So that means there’s a killer in Harrisburg walking around free when he should be paying for his crime. If Alan won’t speak, he never will.”
“The chief knows that Diana had a male visitor,” she pointed out. “That alone should be enough to make the Harrisburg police take it seriously, even if Alan won’t talk.”
“I wish I could be sure it would work out that way. I’m just afraid of doing the wrong thing with Allie. What if the police pursue it and want to question her themselves? I’m trying to keep her out of it, not push her into the middle of it.”
“I know.” Heedless of whoever might be watching, Cathy put her hand over his. “I can’t answer that—I don’t know enough. But think about it. You could see what Chief Jamison says. He’s a good man. He wouldn’t want to do anything that might hurt Allie.”
He didn’t move for a moment, and she thought he wasn’t going to respond. Then his fingers tightened on hers before withdrawing, and his face relaxed a little. “You always look on the bright side, don’t you? I just wish I could do the same.”
THE VAN TAKING the crew to work the next day passed through a pair of modernistic pillars and onto the grounds of the Maple Crest Retirement and Convalescent Community. Michael eyed what seemed like acres of rolling lawns dotted with buildings, and nudged Jacob.
“Pretty fancy, isn’t it? And Randy Hunter owns all this?”
“Owns? Not a chance.” Jacob gestured toward a street of duplexes, each with its own garage and pocket-size yard. “The residents own those, but ownership returns to the corporation when they move on to another level of care. Some big corporation owns the whole thing, and Randy manages it for them.”
“Quite a position. I wouldn’t have thought he was up to it.” The kid he’d known had been a follower, not a leader.
Jacob shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t think he is. He certain sure fusses a lot. You wait—see if he doesn’t come out while we’re working with a half dozen things he’s reconsidered.” He shook his head. “As if we couldn’t put up a gazebo without him standing over us.”
“That’s the job, then?” He should have been showing more interest in what they were doing, instead of just seeing it as work to keep him too busy to think.
“Yah. There’s a nice little courtyard where they have what they call the memory care unit. We’re doing a good big gazebo in the middle, so the patients...residents, they call them...can sit out in the shade.”
There wasn’t time for more, since their driver was already pulling up at the destination. The men scrambled out, and in a moment were unloading tools and equipment.
“Vans can’t pull into the site, so we’re carting everything through those doors. Everybody, grab what you can, and we’ll use the hand truck for the bigger things.”
It took several trips, but eventually everything had been assembled in the middle of a grassy plot. By then they’d attracted an audience—a number of older people lined the wide windows facing the courtyard. Michael spotted an elderly man at one of the doors, obviously wanting to come out. A woman in a pale pink uniform seemed to be discouraging him.
Jacob noticed the direction of his gaze. “They agreed to keep the residents inside while we’re working. Not that I mind folks watching, but I sure wouldn’t want anybody to get hurt.”
“You said this was the memory care unit?” A hazy memory connected with that was trying to surface. “Is that where Diana’s grandmother is?”
“Guess so.” Jacob frowned. “Is that a problem?”
“Not for me. And I don’t suppose she’d know me if she spotted me anyway.” He’d only met her once, and that had been enough for him.
Jacob set the men to work quickly. The foundation had been laid, so they could start framing out the building. It would be good-size as far as gazebos went, but not a big job for a crew like this. He suspected Jacob saw it as a step toward bigger projects. A place like this could be a profitable client for a small construction crew.
The work went smoothly, almost too smoothly for Michael. It gave him too much time to think, and none of his thoughts were very pleasant. Sometime in the night it had occurred to him that he’d accepted Alan’s explanation at face value. How did he know that Alan’s relationship with Diana was as minimal as Alan wanted him to think?
If they had been more deeply involved...if Diana had been pressing him for a commitment...somehow he didn’t think Alan would have been ready to throw over his comfortable life and promising position as the boss’s son-in-law for a new love. Maybe he had been Diana’s path to having the life she’d wanted.
A desperate man could do desperate things. He’d accepted Alan’s friendship and support after Diana died. He’d believed him to be a friend. He certainly hadn’t been that, on his own admission. How much further might his relationship with Diana have gone?
Michael tried to stand back and look at the situation dispassionately, but it was impossible. Maybe Cathy had been right. Maybe he should talk to the police about Alan’s admission.
He probably shouldn’t have talked about it to Cathy, but it had become the most natural thing in the world to confide in her. And she must feel the same, or she wouldn’t have told him as much as she had about her problem. If only he could get her to see what a good, strong woman she really was, and how much all of those children needed her. He’d grown to care so much for her, almost without realizing it was happening. Now it was too late to go back. Even if they could never be together, he was a better person for loving her.
Think about something else, he commanded himself. Anything else.
A distraction presented itself almost immediately. One of the doors had opened, and a figure stepped into the courtyard and started purposefully toward them. Not a patient—it was Randy Hunter.
He wasn’t dressed for jogging this time. Instead, he wore a tailored suit...gray, lightweight...that fit his slight frame so perfectly it was clear he hadn’t bought it off the rack. He looked like a man who fit in at a place with extensive, rolling lawns and expensive amenities.
Mindful of Randy’s attitude the previous time they’d bumped into each other, Michael moved behind an upright, letting a couple of the other guys screen him. No use in causing trouble for Jacob right off the bat.
From his position he could hear Randy well enough without necessarily being spotted. Dressed just like the other workmen, he blended into the background. After all, Randy’s business was obviously with Jacob. He was already saying something about the plans.
“Are you sure you’re following the plans we drew up? It doesn’t look as large as I’d expected it to.” Fussy, like Jacob had said.
“All according to the plans.” Jacob handed over a sheaf of papers. “See for yourself. Those are the plans you signed off on.”
Randy made an annoyed little clucking sound, like a hen disturbed on its nest. “It seemed larger on the plans. Really, I don’t know...”
“The foundation has already been poured,” Jacob pointed out. “If you want it larger, it will add considerably to the cost.”
“I suppose it’ll have to do.” He still had that discontented note in his voice, as if his whole life was a series of small disappointments. “Just be sure you finish on time. I don’t want to have to keep the residents penned up inside a moment longer than necessary in this nice weather. I’m not sure it wouldn’t have been better to delay this project until the fall.”
By this time Jacob had turned back to his work, apparently taking the balance of Randy’s complaints for granted. Michael had to suppress a grin. Randy hadn’t changed that much, not really. He might wear a suit and tie now, but he was still the one who stood back and let other people make the first move.
Funny, even in that memorable fight when Guy had decided he’d overstepped the bounds by dating Diana, Randy had stayed well on the sidelines, looking poised to fade away from the hint of trouble.
Michael turned to look up and check one of the support braces just as Randy moved back, leaving a clear line of sight between them. For an instant their gazes crossed. Randy’s face stiffened.
“Jacob!” He snapped the name in a tone that seemed to surprise even himself.
As Jacob turned to him, he gestured toward Michael. “What is that man doing here?”
Jacob assumed the blank expression they used to call his “dumb Dutchman” look when they were kids. “What man?”
“Michael Forster. You never said you were bringing him on this job.”
“I never said I was bringing Isaac King or Joseph Kohler either.”
“You know what I mean.” His anger was giving Randy a more emphatic tone. “I don’t want—”
“We don’t discriminate on my jobs.” Jacob’s tone was final. “It’s against the law, ain’t so?” he added, with a craftiness that surprised Michael.
“That...that’s not the point.” Randy seemed to be losing some steam. “You ought to know...to know Mrs. Wilcox is a resident here. Seeing him might upset her. He’ll have to leave.”
Jacob straightened. “Anybody leaves, we all leave.” As if it were a signal, the other men put down their tools. The courtyard went suddenly silent.
Michael’s momentary amusement was replaced by guilt. He didn’t want to be the cause of Jacob losing what was probably a lucrative contract because of him. He opened his mouth to say so, but Joseph, standing next to him, gave him a nudge. He nodded toward Randy.
Sure enough, Randy was backing off. Literally. He took several steps backward, clearly looking for a way out of the situation he’d brought on himself.
“Maybe you could keep Mrs. Wilcox away from the windows on this side,” Jacob suggested.
“Yes, yes, I suppose so. The nursing staff ought to be able to do a simple thing like that, given how much we pay them.” Randy had found an alternative scapegoat. “I’ll have to see to it.” He scurried away.
Unaccountably moved, Michael cleared his throat. “Denke,” he said.
“Can’t let him get the upper hand,” Jacob said easily. “Else we’d be here till Christmas doing this project. Forget it. We have.”
True enough. The men were turning back to their work as if the incident had been an entertainment put on to break up the day. He followed suit, not sure what he’d done to deserve the loyalty he was receiving.
Nothing, that was the answer. They behaved that way because he was one of them in their eyes, at least. If not in his.