BY LATE AFTERNOON, it seemed likely that everyone in the community had heard about Michael being kicked out of Wilcox’s office. When the third person stopped at the nursery ostensibly to get plants but really to ask about it, even Aunt Verna’s temper was growing short.
“Put up the closed sign,” she snapped. “I’ve had enough of nosy folks with nothing to do but mind other people’s business.”
Michael pulled the sign into position. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause problems.”
“I told you...” She clamped her lips shut. “Ach, well, I guess you had to see the man, at least. Folks will get over it. So long as he doesn’t mean to cause trouble.”
“Most likely he doesn’t want talk any more than we do.” He expected that would be Bernard’s attitude, but he couldn’t know for sure.
Allie came running toward them then, putting an end to the conversation.
It was just as well, he guessed. There wasn’t anything else he could say to reassure her, not that Verna was one to expect the impossible. If he’d realized how much trouble it would cause when he came back here, he’d have thought longer, though in the end he didn’t see what else he could have done.
“Can I help with something, Daadi?” Allie looked at him hopefully. The past few evenings she’d helped him with some simple chores—the sort of thing an Amish child took for granted, and she seemed to love it. There was something to be said for expecting a child to participate in the work of the family.
“I’m thinking we should get the weeds out of the strawberry patch. How about giving me a hand?”
“Yah.” She grabbed his hand. “Show me.”
“Be sure he shows you which ones are the plants,” Aunt Verna said, her good humor restored.
Allie nodded, understanding the message. “I’ll be really careful.”
Leading the way to the berry patch that spread behind the toolshed, Michael realized he’d begun to look forward to moments like these. Working side by side seemed to encourage sharing confidences, and he’d learned more about his small daughter in recent weeks than he had in all the time Diana was alive.
What had it been in Diana’s nature that hadn’t allowed her to share him with their own child? Or maybe it was that she hadn’t wanted to share Allie with him. Either way, she’d arranged their lives to give him a minimal amount of time with Allie, and he hadn’t even realized it until too late.
He should have, and he blamed himself as much as Diana. At least he had a second chance, and he was determined not to mess it up.
“This is easy,” he said, kneeling at the first row of berry plants. “You can see which ones are the plants. See what the leaves look like? And there are the tiny berries, ready to get big and sweet.”
“They’re green.” She touched a berry with her finger.
“That’s because they’re not ripe yet. When they’re ready for us to pick, they’ll be bright red.”
“Like the ones in the stores.” She nodded to show understanding.
“But better.” He smiled at her. “You’ve never tasted anything sweeter than a fresh-picked berry. You’ll see.”
She looked a little doubting, but she nodded. “So I just pull up these little pieces of grass, ain’t so?”
He nodded. “Everything except the berry plants.” He started pulling the weeds, making a pile on the edge of the row.
“Okay.” Allie worked steadily for a few minutes, her fingers nimble as she pulled grass from around the plants. Then...
“You didn’t come to meet me and Teacher Cathy today,” she said. “Why didn’t you? We looked for you.”
“Did you?” But it was Cathy he was thinking of. Had she looked for him?
“Yah. We wondered. Where were you?”
“Onkel Lige and I were working on the greenhouse. When we’re up on the ladders it needs both of us.”
Which was true enough, but not the reason he hadn’t shown up. He’d been avoiding Cathy. That was the least he could do for her. He’d done enough damage with that kiss. Now it was up to him to make sure she understood that there wasn’t anything between them.
Maybe he was flattering himself. Maybe she didn’t think that at all, just that he’d been too forward and embarrassed her.
Either way, staying away from her was the only thing he could do.
“I like it when you meet me after school.” Allie moved on to the next row. “And I like walking home with Teacher Cathy, too. We talk.”
He could imagine Cathy drawing Allie out of her shyness. “I know. But school won’t be in session for too much longer, you know,” he pointed out. “Before you know it, you’ll be on summer vacation.”
Allie drooped—there was no other word for it. She looked like a plant without water. “I don’t want it to be summer vacation. I’d rather be in school every day.”
He couldn’t recall ever feeling that way himself. “You’ll like vacation. You’ll have more time to play and to help around the greenhouse. I know you like to do that.”
“Yah. But Ruthie...”
He should have realized seeing Ruthie every day was part of the appeal of school. “You’ll still see a lot of Ruthie. I’ll talk to Aunt Sarah and Onkel Lige about it. She can come over here and help, and you can go over to her house.”
At least he hoped so. Sarah and Lige would understand why he couldn’t just leave things alone, wouldn’t they? Diana’s death was hanging over his head like a heavy limb about to fall. He had to do what he could to avert disaster, even if it meant treading on toes.
“I want to see Cousin Ruthie. And my other friends. But mostly I’ll miss Teacher Cathy.” Her lower lip trembled. “I like it when we talk while we’re coming home. She makes me feel...safe.”
The word hit him in the heart. He’d known she was attached to Cathy. That was obvious. But by the look on her face, it was a lot more than that. She needed Cathy. She trusted her. She loved her.
He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Allie hadn’t had all that many people to love during her short life. Cathy was special. Maybe he’d been blinded by his own needs, but he knew that. Cathy was very lovable.
He needed to stay away from her, for both their sakes. But he couldn’t deprive his daughter of someone who meant so much to her.
“Suppose we make sure you can see a lot of Teacher Cathy over the summer. Will that be okay?”
“Could I?” Her smile lit up her face. She didn’t need any words to communicate how much it meant. Then she drooped again. “But how? If we don’t have school...”
“Maybe we could ask Teacher Cathy to help you with something over the summer.” He was fishing, looking for some way Allie could spend time with Cathy, even knowing the more he saw her the harder it would be to resist the strong appeal she had for him.
“Aunt Verna said she’d teach me to make a doll quilt this summer. Maybe Teacher Cathy could do that.” Allie’s eyes lit with her idea.
“Don’t you think Aunt Verna would be disappointed if you didn’t do the sewing with her?” he asked gently.
“Oh.” He watched her process the thought. “I don’t want to hurt Aunt Verna’s feelings. Not for anything. But I need to see Teacher Cathy.” Her lower lip trembled.
“We’ll find something,” he said, hurrying to avert tears. “Suppose we asked her to help you learn Pennsylvania Dutch? I know you’ve picked up a lot of words, but she could help you really understand and speak it.”
“Yah, that’s it.” The threat of tears vanished. “Oh, Daadi, can we ask her? Will you explain so she’ll want to do it?” Hands clasped together prayerfully, she looked at him.
He was a goner. He couldn’t resist Allie, that was for sure. The question was, if life kept throwing them together, could he resist Cathy?
AT THE END of school the next day Cathy lingered a bit longer in the classroom than usual. Allie, bending over a picture she was drawing, was intent and occupied. Cathy slid a notebook into the canvas bag she carried back and forth and then took it out again. That wasn’t the notebook she needed—she was getting absentminded.
That might do as an excuse, but the truth, if she admitted to herself, was that her mind was on Michael. It was fruitless, but she couldn’t seem to stop.
He hadn’t shown up to meet them when she walked Allie home yesterday. Lying to herself would be foolish—she’d been disappointed. Chances were good he wouldn’t be there today either. That kiss had changed everything between them.
Strange, that a kiss could have the power to turn life upside down. She’d known, in that moment, the thing she didn’t want to admit. She loved Michael. Not in a comfortably caring kind of way either. This was the kind of loving that made her heart turn over at a touch, that made her willing to sacrifice for his well-being, even if she couldn’t have him.
And she couldn’t. Even if she’d been willing to give up her faith to marry him, which she wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter. Diana had apparently destroyed any possibility of his loving again.
She’d begun to think of Diana in that light—as someone who destroyed everything she touched. Being ashamed of her attitude didn’t seem to help. She couldn’t understand the woman, and she never would.
Cathy brushed a hand across her forehead in an attempt to chase away the idea. Moving slightly, her glance caught the window, startling her. The day, already cloudy, had darkened appreciably. If it was going to rain, she’d best get Allie home right away.
“Better put your crayons away, Allie. It looks as if rain is coming, so we must leave.”
Allie looked as surprised as she had been, but she obediently started putting crayons back in the box.
The spelling book...she didn’t need that, but she’d better take the upper grades history text home to plan for the next day. She reached for the spot where she normally kept it and realized that, with the perversity of inanimate objects, it had migrated to the edge of her desk. As she picked it up, her fingers touched a folded paper that lay beneath it.
Sliding the book into her bag, she flipped open the paper.
And froze. It wasn’t a piece of schoolwork, as she’d supposed. It was a roughly printed message. An unsigned message.
Everyone knows about you and that man. He killed his wife. Stay away, or he’ll do the same to you.
The paper slid from her fingers, closing to blank out the words. It didn’t help. She could still see them—imprinted on her mind. Ugliness seeped from the words, staining everything it touched.
Who had done this? And how?
A rumble of thunder sparked a quick movement from Allie. “Teacher, the storm—”
“It’s far away. We have time to get home.” Reassuring Allie, she forced herself to pick up the paper and shove it in the bag. She couldn’t leave it here for anyone to see. Little as she wanted to carry it with her, she’d have to consider the possibilities before setting a match to it.
“We’ll go now,” she said, grasping the big black umbrella from the stand in the corner. “Do you have a sweater or jacket?”
“Yah.” Allie scurried to get the dark sweater from the peg. She pulled it around herself as she followed Cathy out the door. A gust of wind caught it, and she had to struggle to pull it closed.
Cathy grasped Allie’s hand and headed for the path. “We’ll hurry, right?”
Allie nodded, trotting along next to her, seeming glad to cling to her hand. Not talking, they hurried their steps, and Cathy’s thoughts hurried as well.
How had that ugly thing gotten into her schoolroom? It wasn’t the work of a child—she was sure of that. The words and thoughts weren’t those of a child, not even one of the older ones. Besides, she knew her scholars better than that.
Then who? And how did it get there? And more important at the moment, what should she do with it?
She thought, as always, of her parents, but she couldn’t show it to them. It would upset them terribly, and although she’d often thought there was nothing Daadi couldn’t handle, she knew this was beyond even his gentle wisdom.
The answer made her stomach twist. She should show it to Michael, even though it made her sick with shame at the thought of his seeing it.
She argued with herself. Maybe it would be best just to burn it and forget it. Except that she couldn’t forget, not now that she’d seen it. Besides, it might be important in some way she couldn’t know. What if it wasn’t just a crank? What if it was somehow connected to everything else that had happened to Michael?
That was ridiculous, wasn’t it? But much that had happened to Michael seemed impossible, and yet it happened.
They’d reached the band of trees. The wind, sweeping suddenly down the valley, sent the branches tossing, turning the leaves to show their paler undersides. Rain was coming—she could smell it in the air.
She glanced at Allie and paused for a moment. “Better put your arms into your sweater. The wind is chilly.”
Allie hurried to obey, obviously not wanting to be outside a minute longer than necessary. “It’s going to storm, isn’t it? With lightning and thunder and rain.” Fear was obvious in her words and her face.
“Ach, what’s a little rain?” Cathy said, keeping her voice cheerful. “We aren’t made of sugar. We won’t melt even if we do get wet, ain’t so?”
The idea of being made of sugar earned a giggle from Allie. She buttoned her sweater more cheerfully and then caught Cathy’s hand again.
“Daadi says it will be school vacation soon,” she volunteered.
“That’s right. We have two and a half weeks of school left.” And the school board still had made no move.
Maybe they’d made up their minds not to renew her contract and wanted to wait until school was out and tell her. That was a depressing thought.
“I asked Daadi about the summer vacation.” Something in Allie’s voice snagged her attention. Allie was going somewhere with this conversation, so she needed to pay attention.
“Are you going to do something special after school is out?”
“Well, I asked... Daadi said... We thought maybe you’d help me with learning Pennsylvania Dutch this summer.” She rushed to get it all out. “Will you, Teacher Cathy? Daadi said we’d see what you said, and I really want you to. Will you?” She stopped, tugging on Cathy’s hand. “Please?”
Cathy could see the pleading in Allie’s face and hear the need in her voice. It was the need that caught her heart in a bruising grip. Allie needed her. There was nothing for her and Michael, but his child needed her. If any child needed her, how could she refuse?
“If you want, I guess I could teach you that. Yah, Allie, I’d like that fine.”
“Really?” Delight filled the child’s face, and she threw her arms around Cathy. “Thank you, thank you.”
Cathy managed a chuckle. “It won’t all be fun, you know. You’ll have to try hard to catch up.”
“I will. I’ll work really hard. I promise.”
“All right. It’s a deal.” She unwound herself from Allie’s arms to the sound of thunder—louder now. Much louder.
“No more talking now. We have to hurry.”
It was when they started walking again that Cathy felt the strangeness. The electricity in the air, she told herself. That’s all it is. But the fine hairs on the back of her neck rose, and a chill shivered down her back. It wasn’t the storm. It was someone—someone watching her. Hating her.
Impossible. Her imagination was working overtime. She resisted the urge to rub the back of her neck—the longing to turn around and see if someone were behind them.
It didn’t help. The feeling didn’t leave. If anything, it intensified. She took a firm grasp on the handle of her umbrella. It was a good sturdy one, but could she really strike someone with it?
She believed wholeheartedly in nonviolence—it was bred in her. But if it were a question of keeping a child safe, she would do what she had to do.
A sound behind her—a dry branch breaking under an unwary foot. Her stomach twisted, but at least it told her the follower’s location. Behind her and to the right—probably hidden behind that low growth of bushes along the edge of the path.
If he came out into the open—but it didn’t seem he intended to. The faint rustling indicated he was moving along behind and to one side, staying in the shrubby growth, maybe not wanting to be identified if she looked back.
She wouldn’t. Every instinct told her that if she showed awareness, it could drive him into action.
A spray of raindrops blew into her face. “Let’s run,” she said, her voice pitched above the noise of the wind and water. “See if you can get to the greenhouse first.”
Pushing Allie gently ahead of her, Cathy gave her a head start—every muscle quivering with the effort to stand still even as the sound of footsteps, muffled by the wet grass, grew nearer. She had to stay between the follower and Allie—that was the thought that filled her mind. She had to.
“Here I come,” she called to Allie, and put on a spurt of speed.
Her own footsteps made enough noise to cover the sound of pursuit, but he was there—she could sense it. The need to look back pressed on her nerves, but she didn’t dare take her eyes from the wet path ahead of her. If she fell... If she fell, she couldn’t protect Allie.
She had to. The refrain repeated itself to the sound of her feet. The path curved, and then she could see the greenhouse through the trees...could even see movement inside it.
Almost there...please, please... Allie ran into the open, laughing a little, not realizing anything was wrong. She’d reached the greenhouse. She was safe.
But the footsteps were close behind Cathy. She made a desperate effort. Once she was in the clear, she’d be all right. Something brushed her skirt—a hand? Fear gave wings to her feet, and she darted into the open, heading straight for the greenhouse and Michael’s reassuring presence.
WHEN ALLIE CAME running to the greenhouse, Michael was waiting to swing her inside, wishing he’d sent her with a rain jacket. “About time you’re getting here. You’re wet.”
“Not very.” She grinned, seeming exhilarated by the dash to escape the rain. “We ran fast. I beat Teacher Cathy.”
“I see that. Hang your wet sweater over the chair, okay? We’ll wait here until the rain stops.”
Allie nodded, stripping the soggy sweater off as she headed to do as he’d said. He turned, frowning, toward the door. Surely Cathy would have had an umbrella?
She bolted through the door, grasping the umbrella as if it were a weapon. The look on her face chased everything else out of his mind.
“What’s happened? You...”
“Hush,” she murmured with a meaningful glance at Allie. Even with her face white and her hands shaking, she thought first of his child. He clasped her cold fingers in his.
“Quietly, then. Something’s wrong.” He kept his voice low, moving close enough to hear the slightest breath.
“Someone was chasing us.” The whites of her eyes showed as she darted a look back at the path.
He gripped her hands firmly. “Are you sure it wasn’t the noise of the storm?”
Cathy shivered. “I heard someone behind me. I didn’t imagine it. He was there.”
“Stay here,” he ordered. Yanking the door open, he brushed away her attempts to stop him and raced toward the path.
Anger thudded through his body with every swift beat of his heart. Someone watching the school, following his child—it was too much. When he caught up with the man, he’d wish he’d taken up some other line of work.
It must be that private investigator—who else would it be? He’d settle with him. And then he’d settle with Bernard. They weren’t getting away with this.
His clothes were soaked and clinging to his body by the time he reached the shelter of the trees. Not as noisy here, now that he couldn’t hear the rain drumming on the glass panels. He stopped his headlong rush to listen intently.
Nothing. But the tall grass at the edge of the path had been flattened, as if someone or something had brushed through a moment ago. He surged after it, feet squelching on the wet ground.
The trail he was following ended where the trees were dense enough to discourage growth beneath their canopy. He paused again, scanning the area. Nothing that he could see. The man must have fled as soon as Cathy was in reach of the greenhouse.
He’d probably have gone toward the road. He must have parked a vehicle somewhere. Michael headed in that direction, unwilling to give up despite the creeping conviction that he was too late.
When he reached the road, Michael was forced to admit it was no good. He hadn’t a chance of overtaking the man. The only hope was that Cathy had caught a glimpse of him.
His rage settling down to a simmer beneath the surface, Michael trudged back to the greenhouse. By the time he neared it, the rain had stopped. For an instant he veered toward the house, but he spotted Cathy standing at the greenhouse door and headed there instead.
“You didn’t catch him.” She made it a statement, not a question.
He shook his head. “Too late. I didn’t even get a glimpse. Did you?”
“No.” She spoke quickly, probably recognizing the hope in his voice. “I’m sorry. By the time he was close enough that I could have known him, I was afraid to look. If I’d tripped and fallen—” A shiver went through her at the thought.
“You did the right thing.” He clasped her hand, realizing he was dripping cold water on her but needing to touch, to comfort. “I take it Allie’s in the house with Verna?”
“Yah. I thought I’d best stay so we could talk without their hearing.”
“Good. We need to hash this out. When did you realize someone was following you?”
She hesitated, obviously thinking back. “It was about the time the storm started to hit. At first I thought it was the storm making me nervous. Making me imagine things. But it wasn’t.”
“You’re sure? Yes, of course you are.” Cathy wasn’t the type of person who’d panic at nothing. “What happened next?”
“We were getting closer—about where we saw the butterflies that day, remember? Then I could hear him. Eventually he didn’t bother being careful about the noise. Allie didn’t realize... I suppose she thought it was the rain. I put her in front of me, and as soon as we were in that last stretch, I said we’d race to the greenhouse.” A shiver stopped her words.
She didn’t really need to say any more. Obviously she’d been protecting Allie, keeping herself between Allie and the follower, putting herself at risk for his daughter.
His grip tightened on her hand. “Did he touch you? Say anything?”
“He didn’t speak. Just as I started to run, his hand brushed my skirt.” She gave a short, impatient shake of her head. “It panicked me.”
“Maybe that was best. I just wish I could prove it was that investigator. He ought to be in jail for that. At least you’re both all right. But what was the point of it all? That’s what I don’t get.”
What did the man think he had to gain? Frightening his daughter and her teacher wouldn’t help him learn the truth about Diana.
“There’s something else.” Regret saturated the words. “I’m sorry, but...” She took something out of her book bag—a folded piece of paper—holding it gingerly, as if it were dirty. “I found this when I was getting ready to leave. It was under a book on my desk.”
He took it with a sense of foreboding. He flipped it open and read what it said.
It took an effort not to crush the offensive thing in his hand. So they’d sunk as far as leaving anonymous letters for the teacher.
After a moment the facts penetrated. “It was on your desk, you said. When did it show up?”
“There’s no way to be sure. It could have been there all day. It was only when I picked up the history book that I found it.”
He frowned at it. “One of the older kids—”
“No, I can’t believe that.” Her tone was decided. “They wouldn’t. I’m sure of it.”
“How did it get there, then?” He thought she was being awfully quick to eliminate her scholars from suspicion. They were the most likely not to be caught planting it. Or one of her helpers.
“I don’t know.” She folded her arms, hugging herself in a gesture of defense against his words. “Maybe even during the night. Anybody could get in if they really tried.”
“Did you see any sign of someone breaking in?” He was frankly skeptical. It could well be that the anonymous letter was totally unrelated to the man who’d followed Cathy and Allie. He glanced at it again. It felt more as if it had been written by an Amish person, not an Englischer.
“No, but I didn’t look. You can’t assume that someone from the church would be playing tricks like this. It’s unheard-of. They’d be risking discipline if it came out.”
Was she right about that? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d become cynical during his years outside. He’d like to think he’d come home to a way of life he could believe in, but he just wasn’t sure.
He had to decide what to do next. Maybe this was actually a case where telling the police was warranted. Chief Jamison hadn’t liked the idea of a private eye on his territory. He’d like it even less if he thought the man were frightening the Amish teacher.
“How would you feel if I talked to Chief Jamison about this?”
Alarm filled her face. “You can’t. Please, Michael, you mustn’t do that. Everyone would hear.” Her cheeks grew scarlet. “My parents, the children and their parents—I couldn’t handle it.”
“If he promised to keep it quiet...”
But she was already shaking her head. More than that, her whole body was shaking. He’d kept her there talking in her wet clothes, not even noticing how uncomfortable she must be.
“Never mind it now. I won’t do anything until we’ve hashed it out completely. Let’s get you home before you catch pneumonia.”
He’d have to drop it for now. But he’d also have to do something about it, and soon.