RACHEL TRIED TO go back to her salad making after Jacob left, but the things he’d said kept revolving in her mind. He’d certain sure given her plenty to think about, so why was she focusing only on his comment that she got mad at him? That was plain foolish.
Wasn’t it? Well, that wasn’t exactly what he’d said. He’d commented that he was the only one she lost her temper with, which was nonsense. Maybe she had become braver about expressing her own opinion. After all, she’d grown into an independent woman now. She’d been pushed into it, but all the same. Besides, if he didn’t annoy her so often, it wouldn’t happen.
Satisfied, Rachel began tearing lettuce for the salad. She’d noticed that Holly avoided greens, so she also cut some carrot sticks. But her knife soon slowed as she thought through Jacob’s comments about her fall not being an accident.
She hadn’t been surprised when he said it. She had to admit it. Apparently she’d already accepted the possibility in the back of her mind even if she hadn’t let herself dwell on it. If someone really had rigged the step with the hope that Ms. Geraldine would fall—well, she couldn’t believe that any of Ms. Geraldine’s family members would be so cruel. If the elderly woman had gone all the way down the stairs, she might easily have broken her hip. Or worse.
No, it wasn’t conceivable. She shouldn’t let herself speculate about it, not ever.
She realized quickly that it was impossible not to think about something once she’d told herself not to. Fortunately Holly came bustling into the kitchen, holding her phone like a flag.
“We’re ready. Can we order the pizza now? Do you want plain pizza or something on it?”
Hoping to hold on to Holly’s good mood, she said, “I like most any kind. What do you and your great-aunt think?”
Holly wanted mushrooms and pepperoni, and apparently Ms. Geraldine had said she’d try it. A little doubtful that the older woman would really eat pepperoni, she suggested half plain and half mushroom and pepperoni. Holly was eager to call, so Rachel listened while she placed the order. She gave them the phone number and hung up, turning with a satisfied look.
“All taken care of. It’ll be here in about half an hour. They seemed surprised when I said the Withers house.”
“That’s probably because no one ever ordered a pizza from here before,” Ms. Geraldine suggested.
Holly shook her head as if in disbelief. “You want me to set the table out here?”
Rachel didn’t speak. It wasn’t her decision, after all.
“Yes, do that,” Ms. Geraldine said. “We’ll be informal tonight. It’s silly to eat pizza with a tablecloth and the good china.” She hesitated. “I think I’ll go sit down until it comes. You can get the money from the drawer where I keep it, Rachel.”
Rachel nodded and began tossing the salad.
“Do Amish people eat pizza?” Holly sounded as if she were interested but doubtful.
“For sure,” Rachel said. “Sometimes it’s ordered from the shop, but often homemade. People exchange recipes a lot, and my mamm used to make the best crust, so everyone wanted hers. She put just a little sugar in it.”
“I never heard of making your own.” Holly sounded doubtful. “Do you throw it in the air, like they show on TV?”
Rachel had to laugh at the thought. “Well, no, I never have. But my cousin Jessie tried it once.”
“What happened? Is it really better if you do that?”
She grinned. “We never found out, because it got stuck on the ceiling.”
Holly giggled at the image but sobered after a moment. “You sure have a lot of relatives, don’t you?”
“Most Amish people do, because we have big families.” She wasn’t sure whether Holly was envious or not. “You met some more of your relatives today, ain’t so?”
“Uncle Richard and Aunt Lorna. They said I should call them that.” She didn’t sound enthusiastic. But then, at her age meeting more adults wasn’t very exciting.
“They’re Ricky’s parents,” Rachel pointed out. “So they’re really your mother’s cousins, but you should call people what they want you to.”
She shrugged, uninterested. “Uncle Richard didn’t seem to know that Ricky had been here. I thought that was funny.”
“I suppose since he’s been away at school, Ricky’s gotten used to doing things on his own.”
“Yeah.” She pouted. “I wish I could.”
That was probably a good subject to avoid. “I’m sorry my accident interrupted their visit. It was embarrassing to have everyone in the house come running.”
“I don’t think Aunt Geraldine cared if they were interrupted. They were talking to her about something that made her mad.”
“They were? How do you know? I thought you were outside.” That startled her so much she responded before telling herself she shouldn’t encourage Holly to gossip.
“I came in because I wanted to know who’d come in the car. But when I heard their voices, I went back out again.”
Holly had probably been hoping that the car contained her mother.
“I’m sorry if they made her angry,” Rachel said.
“It was something about Aunt Geraldine moving. She really told them off about it.” Holly grinned at the memory. “Then I decided to go outside. I guess it was right after that that you fell, because I didn’t hear it.”
Rachel nodded absently. Despite her efforts to dismiss it, here was proof that Richard and Lorna still wanted Ms. Geraldine out of the house, either for her benefit or their own. They must have plunged right into the subject, because she’d decided to come down when she’d heard their voices. She’d like to believe they were only concerned about Ms. Geraldine, but still... Jacob’s words rankled in her mind.
Suppose Rachel had been hurt seriously enough that she wouldn’t be able to continue work. Unless Ms. Geraldine could find someone willing and able to live in and help her, they’d have a good argument against her living alone. And if Ms. Geraldine had fallen—
No. No matter what, she couldn’t believe that Richard would injure his aunt just to gain control of her property.
“I hear something coming,” Holly said, hurrying to the door. “Maybe it’s the pizza.”
But Rachel could already see from the window that the vehicle wasn’t a car. Sammy and his wife, Sarah, waved at her from the buggy, and the basket by Sarah’s feet surely contained their infant daughter.
Holly was turning away from the door, looking disappointed that it wasn’t the pizza delivery. Rachel caught her hand. “Komm. Meet my brother and his wife.”
She tugged a reluctant Holly out the back door with her. “Sammy. And Sarah. And surely this is baby Anna Beth.” She leaned over the basket. Anna Beth, just two months old, slept deeply, her little arms thrown back over her head, her face turned to the side.
“Ach, she’s grown just since last week,” Rachel said, smiling tenderly at the tiny face.
“She falls asleep as soon as the buggy starts to move,” Sarah said, obviously doting on her little daughter. She patted the infant and then stepped down from the buggy. “And who is this?”
“This is Holly, Ms. Geraldine’s great-niece.” She took Holly’s hand to draw her forward. “Holly, here is my bruder Sammy, and his wife, Sarah, and in the basket is my little niece, Anna Beth.”
Holly barely acknowledged the adults, but she leaned over the basket, clearly enthralled by the baby. She touched the basket and glanced up at Rachel. “Can I touch her?” she whispered.
Smiling, Rachel glanced at Sarah, who nodded. “Gently, so she doesn’t wake up, yah?”
Holly put one finger on the palm of the baby’s hand. The tiny fingers twitched and closed around hers, and she looked up, awestruck. “She likes me.”
“Yah, she does.” Sarah smiled at her. “You haven’t been around babies very much, ain’t so?”
It didn’t take the shake of her head to give them the answer. “How old is she?”
“A little over two months.” Sarah moved closer, obviously prepared for a talk on her favorite subject.
Sammy touched Rachel’s hand and nodded toward the porch. “Komm.”
He must have something private to say to her, and Rachel’s chest tightened as she followed him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” But she could see the concern in his eyes. “Why would anything be wrong?”
“I don’t know, but you’re standing there shifting from one foot to the other like you’re about to ask a girl to ride home with you for the first time. Out with it.”
His familiar grin came back. “Never could kid you, ain’t so?”
“So stop doing it, and spill out whatever you’re troubled about.”
Sammy nodded, studying his shoes. “We had a note from Daad, that’s all. He says they’ll be home next week. No trouble, yah?”
Rachel shook her head, but her stomach flipped over. She struggled to speak calmly. “No, for sure it’s not. We knew they’d be back soon.”
“Right.” Relief filled his voice, as he took her words at face value. “That’s all. I thought you’d want to know ahead of time. And if you ever want to stay with us—”
“No, I won’t want that.” She patted his shoulder fondly. “I’m on my own now, and I like it that way.”
But her stomach still felt queasy, and she didn’t know how she was going to stomach pizza tonight with the thought of seeing Daad in her mind. Maybe she wasn’t as independent as she kept saying she was.
BY THE TIME she was ready for bed, Rachel was exhausted and her ribs had turned purple on one side. She touched them lightly with her fingertips, winced and smoothed her nightgown down. She’d best try to sleep on the other side tonight.
Confident she’d sleep soundly, Rachel was surprised to find herself lying awake with the events of the day running through her mind. Making an effort to shove them away, she focused on the full moon that sent a bright patch of moonlight across the bottom of the bed—so bright, in fact, that she could probably read by it if she wanted.
The moon hung just over the top of the ridge, seeming close enough to touch. Once in a while a wispy cloud drifted across its face like a veil. Smiling at the fanciful idea, she began to relax.
The pizza party had been a success, that was certain sure. Whether Ms. Geraldine really liked the meal she couldn’t say, but if she hadn’t, she’d put on a good front. Strange, how Ms. Geraldine had taken to Holly, especially considering her attitude toward the rest of her family. Maybe she recognized in Holly a stubbornness to match her own. With a smile on her lips, she drifted to sleep.
A pleasant dream about walking in the spring woods slid slowly into something darker. The woods grew frightening, and she sensed an alien presence. Something...someone...was following her. She could hear the creaking of their footsteps.
Creaking? Footsteps in the woods didn’t creak.
And then Rachel was wide awake, clutching the quilt, straining every nerve to hear and to identify. She stared into darkness—the moon had moved higher in the sky now, and it no longer shone into her window. Was that what had wakened her? The change in the light?
No. She felt sure it had been a sound. Quietly she slipped out of bed and pulled on her robe and slippers. Easing the door open, she stood still, listening intently. Nothing now, but she had the overpowering sense that something was wrong.
She moved slowly along the hall, stopping to listen outside each door... She may as well go back to bed. Nothing was—
She heard it again, more clearly this time, maybe because she was closer to the stairs. The noises came from down there. A scraping sound, followed by a crack as if something had broken. She hesitated, considering. She could wake Ms. Geraldine, but if it was nothing...
Shaking her head, Rachel went quickly and quietly back to her room and got the flashlight from the bedside stand. At least she could go downstairs and try to determine what was causing the noise. It might be something as simple as a loose shutter or a branch scraping against the side of the house. The wind had come up—she could hear it whispering around the house.
With her hand against the wall, Rachel moved silently down the stairs, putting her foot to the wall side of each step to avoid creaks. She wasn’t making noise, but she could still hear something, and when she rounded the corner at the landing, she could see something, too. A light came from the dining room, sending a narrow path across the hall floor.
Rachel froze. Someone with a flashlight? It wasn’t bright enough to be the overhead fixture—at least, she didn’t think so. Hardly breathing, she listened. Nothing. Was she wrong?
The light shut off with no sound to tell her that someone had snapped a switch. Silence. It lasted so long that she became convinced she was mistaken. No one was there. If there had been, he’d gone, and she couldn’t stand here on the steps all night.
Even as she turned, the light reappeared, and her breath caught. Fear washed over her, and just as suddenly was replaced by anger. She would not stand here shivering. She’d find out what was going on.
Still silent, Rachel forced herself to move deliberately. Down to the bottom of the stairs, forward along the wall, in a moment she’d be able to see into the dining room...
She stumbled, bumping into the edge of a small table, which creaked in return. Holding her breath, she straightened.
The light went off again.
Before she could panic, it came back. Just as suddenly, she realized what it must be and her tension dissolved. It was the moon, high enough now to have reached this side of the house, casting light and then going dark as the clouds moved.
She wanted to laugh at herself, but something kept her quiet. That explained the light, but not the noises. She couldn’t go back to bed until she felt sure everything was safe.
A couple of quick steps took her to the dining room door. The full moon shone brightly in the long window on the side wall. It reflected from the polished surface of the table and touched the vase of lilacs that stood in the center. No one was in the room but her, but the noise continued.
It took another minute, but then Rachel understood. The wind had come up, as she’d thought, and the window opposite her was rattling. Without letting herself have second thoughts, she hurried to it and grasped the sash. Yes, just steadying it stopped the noise. The last of the fear ebbed away, leaving her feeling unbelievably tired and longing for her bed.
She couldn’t go until she’d fastened it in some way. Running her fingers along the sash, she tried to think what she could push into it to stop the rattle for tonight, at least. Jacob would fix it tomorrow.
With the thought, Jacob’s face appeared in her mind, first stern and severe and then lightening suddenly so that his lips quirked and laughter made his eyes sparkle. Yah, Jacob would handle it. She’d tell him first thing. Her fingers grasped the lock at the top of the sash—grasped and tightened. The window was unlocked. But she had checked to be sure it was locked before she went to bed, mindful of the door she’d found unlocked.
She snapped the latch into place, locking the window and then wiggling it to be sure it was secure. Maybe the wind had made it work loose. Maybe. But she’d still have Jacob check it first thing tomorrow.
JACOB HAD JUST become engrossed in a new strip of badly damaged baseboard the next day, when he heard a step and a shadow crossed the ray of sunlight from the stable door. Even before he looked up, he knew it was Rachel. It may have been years, but he still had that instinctive recognition of her presence.
He finished the cutting he’d been doing before putting down his tools to greet her. “Rachel. What brings you out so early in the morning?”
“Nothing very exciting,” she said, but he thought she looked as if there were something on her mind.
“But...” He stopped, raising an eyebrow. “What do you need me to do?”
Rachel smiled. “Ach, Jacob, you know me too well. There is one little thing you could check in the house.”
“Well...” He looked down at the workbench, as if assessing how much work he had on hand. He’d found that a good way of ensuring clients respected his time, and he’d done it automatically.
“Too busy?”
He chuckled. “You caught me. I just like to be sure my customers don’t interrupt me twenty times a day. But I don’t need that with you.” He dusted his hands off and rounded the workbench, moving into the patch of sunlight. “What can I do for you?”
“Check the dining room window,” she said promptly, as if she’d known all along he’d come now—which she probably did. “The lock seems to be a little loose.”
He paused in the act of tossing some tools into his bag. “I thought I checked all of the windows when I was assessing what had to be done. But maybe it worked its way loose.” He joined her. “Let’s have a look.”
They started toward the house, and she bent to lift a daffodil that had been flattened by last night’s wind. “Poor thing. I’ll cut it for the house if it doesn’t perk up.”
He didn’t want to talk about daffodils. “I saw Sammy and Sarah stopped by yesterday. Bringing some more of your belongings, were they?”
“Ach, yah. Every time I think I have everything I need, something else comes up. Sarah noticed I’d left the crib quilt I’d started behind, so she brought it over.”
“For their little one? You’re late, aren’t you? I distinctly remember seeing a boppli in the buggy.”
“I would be late if I were doing that,” she said, her voice a little tart as if annoyed that he’d think she could be so remiss as not to have a crib quilt ready on time. “This one will be for Cathie Forster, but don’t you say I told you.”
“Silent as a stone, that’s me,” he said lightly. So Cathie and Michael were starting a family to go along with Michael’s daughter, Allie. Good for them.
They crossed the porch and went on through the kitchen toward the hall.
“I’m wonderful happy for them.” Rachel’s face glowed with pleasure at the thought of her friend’s joy.
“Yah.” He dismissed the thought of the family he and Rachel might have had. “Anything new with Sammy and Sarah, other than getting up in the night with the boppli?”
“No. Well, not exactly.” They had reached the dining room. Rachel didn’t bother to lower her voice, so he guessed Ms. Geraldine was not within earshot to be disturbed.
“What exactly, then?” It was easy to tell when Rachel was evading something. She wasn’t very good at it.
“Sammy thought I should know that Daad and his wife will be back from their trip next week. That’s all.”
“They were bound to come back sometime, ain’t so?” He tried to sound as if he didn’t realize that it had ruffled Rachel’s peace.
“Yah, for sure. Sammy just thought I’d want to be...well, prepared to see them.”
Usually the mention of her father annoyed him with its reminder, but he was more concerned with how it affected Rachel at the moment.
“Are you prepared? What exactly does Sammy say about it?” If she mentioned going home, he was prepared to argue the point.
Ignoring the question for the moment, Rachel led him to the side window. “It’s this one. I tried to secure it, but it was rattling.”
He set down the bag of tools and jiggled the window. “Not too much wrong with it, but I’ll tighten the latch. So what exactly is Sammy worried about?” He wasn’t going to let her get away with not answering.
Rachel’s lips twitched. “He asked me again to move in with them. Maybe it’s just as well that Sarah didn’t hear him. I’m sure she’d dislike it as much as I would.”
“Sarah seems like the accommodating sort. She wouldn’t raise a fuss, would she?”
“That would make it even worse. I wouldn’t be able to help acting like the big sister again, and she’d hate to say anything. No, I’m happy as I am.” She gave the window a little pat, as if to show affection for the rambling old house.
He studied the latch needlessly. “What if your daad asked you to come back home?”
“He won’t,” she said. She paused for a moment, and then went on. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t do it. I like it here. I’m independent, and that’s how I want it.”
He was tempted to ask if she couldn’t have gotten her independence a little sooner but decided he didn’t want to start a fight. At least she was confiding in him, and they were talking like the old friends that they had been once. Maybe they were becoming that again.
Putting down his screwdriver, he switched the latch from locked to unlocked a few times, trying to rattle it each way.
“There, not a whisper out of it.” He glanced around. “I wouldn’t think you’d even notice it unless it was really windy.”
She put her hand on the window and tried it for herself. “It was really windy last night. It must have gotten going sometime after midnight. Didn’t you notice the flowers?”
Jacob stopped putting his tools away and straightened in order to meet her gaze. “And what were you doing down here after midnight?”
Shrugging, she evaded his eyes. “Nothing. I mean, I woke up and thought I heard a noise, so I got up to see what it was. I was concerned about Ms. Geraldine.”
He could feel his face getting more rigid as she spoke. “That doesn’t explain why you were down here. Wasn’t Ms. Geraldine in bed?”
Where you should have been, he thought. And then he pictured Rachel snug under her quilt, her hair spread loose across her pillow. And veered away quickly from the image.
“Well, yes. But I could still hear something rattling. You know how it is when the house is quiet at night. You hear every sound. So I went down to check.”
“By yourself.” He didn’t wait for her to affirm it. “Haven’t you more sense than to go investigating noises alone? What if it had been somebody trying to break in?”
“If it had, I’d have gone straight to the telephone and called the police, of course.” She sounded defensive. “There’s a phone in Ms. Geraldine’s room, one in the study, one in the kitchen...”
“While you were going there, someone might have attacked you. Burglars don’t like to let anyone see them. Don’t you know that?” He could hear the irritability in his voice but he couldn’t stop it, any more than he could stop caring what happened to her.
Rachel’s eyes flashed. “I appreciate your concern, Jacob, but I’m a grown woman and I don’t need scolding from you or anyone else.”
“Yah, I know, you’re independent.” He slapped the tool bag closed. “If you had found your independence a few years earlier, things would be different. I guess it took being told to leave to get you out of that house.”
He’d gone too far, he knew, and regretted it the instant the words were out of his mouth. But she was so exasperating. So gentle and mild on the surface and with a core of granite when it came to doing what she thought was right.
“That might be true.” Rachel had paled. “But it’s not your place to say so.” She swung around and was out of the room before he had a chance to say another word.