by Marta Perry
“But—” Her mind whirled with unanswered questions.
“We will find out everything when we get there.” Aaron urged her up the steps. “Do you want me to send Molly to help you?”
Katie took a firm hold of herself. She must look upset, for Aaron to offer that.
“No, no, I’m fine. I’ll try to get ready without waking Rhoda.” She went the rest of the way quickly, her bare feet making no sound on the wooden treads.
She slipped into the room, found the small flashlight she kept on the bedside table. Rhoda still slept. Gut.
Katie took her clothing from its peg and began to dress. Hurry, hurry. The faster you go, the sooner you will know what has happened.
In moments she was back downstairs. Aaron opened the door, and they followed the policeman out to his car, a dark bulk in the lane that led to Aaron’s machine shop.
She’d ridden in cars often, of course, but never in a police car. The lights of the dashboard were a confusing mixture, and a radio crackled intermittently with words she couldn’t grasp.
“Sorry about this, folks.” The officer sped up when he reached the main road. “Nobody wants to get wakened in the night by a cop at the door, I know.”
“What time is it?” Katie still felt a bit disoriented, as if her mind couldn’t quite decide whether this was a dream or real.
“A little after two, ma’am. The incident happened about an hour ago.”
“The shop was vandalized, ja?” That was the only thing she could think of that would bring the police out.
“Chief Walker will tell you all about it.” Obviously he wasn’t supposed to talk. She would have to be patient. And pray.
They drew up in front of the shop in what seemed record time. Katie got out, Aaron right behind her, and stood staring for a moment, trying to understand what she was seeing.
Two police cars stood in front of the shop, turned so that their lights shone blindingly into it. The colored lights on top of the cars whirled, turning the surroundings different colors. She took a step forward. The shop—
Seeing Lisa’s place after the vandals had hit it had prepared her a little. The windows were smashed, and the door hung askew. Inside, she could see—
She started to run toward the shop, but Chief Walker was there to catch her, stop her. “I can’t let you go in yet, Ms. Miller. I’m sorry. Once the officers are finished gathering evidence, then you can go inside.”
But she didn’t need to go in to see the worst of it—the callous, wicked vandalism. Someone had sprayed paint over the quilts. Quilts that had taken women hundreds of hours to finish, ruined in minutes, seconds, maybe.
She swayed, and Aaron was there to grasp her arms.
“It will be all right, Katie. It will. Maybe they are not all ruined. Maybe . . .” His voice ran down. Maybe he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
True, perhaps they were not all ruined. But the shop, her cozy shop into which she’d poured her love and enthusiasm, was battered almost beyond recognition. She didn’t think it could ever be the same again.
Nausea gripped her, so fierce it was all she could do not to throw up. She’d told Lisa she’d understood, but she hadn’t, not really. The paint on the window had been nothing compared to this.
But there was worse. The vandals had raged into Caleb’s shop, as well. His front window was broken, and quilt racks and chairs looked as if they had been smashed against the wall. The red paint was there, too.
She choked on tears. Caleb would never get over this. Wasn’t that what he’d said just yesterday? And he would never forgive her. How could he?
“I’m as sorry as I can be.” Chief Walker patted her shoulder awkwardly. “One good thing, though. We caught him. The neighbors heard him and called in, and I already had a car out on patrol. I’m sorry we didn’t get here in time to prevent the damage, but at least we caught him.”
Him, the chief kept saying. She’d assumed what everyone had, that it was a gang of kids.
“Who?” She was almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Mike Franklin. Manager of the hardware store.” A note of satisfaction tinged Chief Walker’s voice. “I always did think the culprit wasn’t the usual gang of kids.”
Katie could only stare at him. “I don’t understand. Why would he?”
“It was my fault.” Melanie stepped hesitantly from the small knot of bystanders. “I’m so sorry, Katie. So sorry. It was all my fault.” She burst into tears, huge racking sobs that shook her whole body.
Katie put her arms around the girl, holding her close, patting her as if she were Rhoda. “Hush now, Melanie. Just because Mike did this thing, that doesn’t mean it was your fault. It will be all right.”
“It won’t.” Melanie shook her head so hard that her hair whipped her face. “It’s my fault. Everyone will blame me. You’ll hate me.”
“No one will hate you.” Katie kept her voice calm with an effort. All she wanted to do was run away and bury her face in a pillow, but she couldn’t. This poor child needed help, and already Chief Walker was backing away, obviously relieved to leave her to Katie. “Don’t talk so foolish. Komm, now. This crying is not doing any gut. We must face things.”
Except that she didn’t want to face anything. She wanted to hide.
But her words seemed to have an effect on Melanie. The young woman straightened, wiping tears away with her hands. Her body still shook with intermittent sobs, but she seemed to be gaining control of herself.
Katie held her, looking around the small crowd for someone else who could help. To her relief, she saw Lisa and Donna, standing together, looking as if they were holding each other up. Katie nodded to them, and they came through the crowd to join her.
“Melanie is blaming herself for what Mike did,” she said softly.
“That’s foolish,” Donna said, her voice brisk. “Now, Melanie, stop the crying and tell us what is going on. Why did Mike do such a thing?”
That brought a fresh onslaught of tears. “It . . . It was because of me,” Melanie wailed. “He didn’t want me to have any friends or to do anything without him. He kept saying if I loved him I wouldn’t want to do anything without him.”
“That’s what you were so upset about at quilting class,” Katie said. “He didn’t want you to come.”
Melanie nodded, sniffling.
“Oh, honey, didn’t you realize what a danger signal that was?” Lisa put an arm around Melanie’s waist. “Bringing you here where you didn’t know anyone, trying to control the people you met . . . Did he hit you?”
“N-n-no,” Melanie said. “But he . . . I felt afraid of him, and I didn’t know why.” She choked on a sob. “I didn’t know he was going to ruin your shop, Lisa. Or Katie’s. I know you’ll never forgive me. ...”
“It is not your fault,” Katie said firmly. “You are our friend.”
“That’s right,” Donna said. “And thank goodness you found out what he was before you married him. Now . . .”
“Now you’ll come home with me,” Lisa said. “We’ll have a good cry, and then tomorrow you can call your parents. It’s going to be all right.”
The enthusiasm was back in Lisa’s voice. She had a new project, it seemed. Someone who needed her help. Katie didn’t doubt that Lisa would take good care of Melanie, and that it would be good for her, too.
She watched the three of them walk away, Lisa and Donna on either side of Melanie. That was good. So why did she feel so bereft?
She turned back toward the shop, to find Chief Walker studying her face.
“She’ll be all right, I guess,” he said.
Katie nodded. “Lisa will take care of her.” Katie forced herself to look again at the damage. “It is hard to believe.”
“I know. I’m sorry. At least it’s over now.” He brushed his hands together, as if dusting off the problems Mike had caused.
It wasn’t over for her. Or for Caleb. Katie’s heart winced.
“Has . . . Has Caleb Brand
been notified?” How she kept her voice even she didn’t know.
“I sent someone to bring him.” Chief Walker turned, looking down the street, and then nodded. “There they are now.”
She couldn’t face Caleb. But that was just being a coward. No matter what it cost her, she had to say how sorry she was.
The car pulled up, and the door opened. Caleb stepped out, the rotating lights turning his face different colors as he moved.
Staring at the shop, he walked toward them as if he were in a nightmare. Chief Walker took a step toward him, but Caleb didn’t seem to register his presence.
Katie nerved herself to speak. “Caleb . . .”
He didn’t turn toward her. He walked past, toward the shop, and didn’t look at her at all.
Her throat thickened, and she struggled to gain control. She’d thought she’d have to settle for being Caleb’s friend. Now, it seemed, she wouldn’t even have that.
“Is it all right if we go home now?” She forced out the words, clasping Aaron’s arm for support.
“Sure, sure.” Chief Walker waved to one of his officers. “I’ll have someone drive you. By morning, you should be able to get in to start cleaning up, so you can get back in business.”
She gave him a meaningless smile and turned away. Back in business. To see Caleb every day and know what she’d done to him? She couldn’t.
She would leave. She would admit that having her own shop wasn’t to be, and she would go home.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Katie had tried without much success to get some sleep in what was left of the night. She had wanted to cry, but somehow the tears didn’t come.
Now, sitting at the breakfast table, she wrapped her hands around the mug of coffee Molly had poured for her and stared at it, trying to concentrate. Her mind didn’t seem to work, either.
“It is time.” Molly turned from the sink, drying her hands, a determined expression on her pert face. “We should get going to town. It might be best if Rhoda stays here to watch the baby while I go with you to start the cleanup.”
Katie stared at her. “I don’t think . . .”
“This is not a time for thinking,” Molly said firmly. “This is a time to get to work. A bad thing has happened, and I’m certain-sure nothing will make you feel better than setting it right.”
Finally tears stung Katie’s eyes. “It can’t be set right. All those quilts, all that work, are destroyed.”
“Ja, and Melanie’s hopes for her future are destroyed, too.” Molly, sweet, lively Molly, was implacable. “You are not the only one hurting, Katie Miller. You cannot sit around and feel sorry for yourself.”
Stung, Katie pulled back. “I’m not. At least . . . Well, maybe I am. I have to face it. This dream of mine isn’t coming true. You’re right that other people have been hurt. Caleb ...” She couldn’t go on. “I should pack up and go home.”
Molly sank into the chair opposite her and clasped her hand. “I have never known you to give up on anything you set your mind to. Is this about the shop? Or is it about Caleb?”
Katie pressed her lips together, blinking back tears. “How did you know?” she whispered.
“I’ve seen the way you look at him.” Molly squeezed her hand. “And the way he looks back at you.”
“No.” Her voice shook. “I thought I could never love anyone else because of Eli. Coming here, starting my own business was supposed to take the place of that.”
“And then you met Caleb.” Molly’s voice was soft.
“Ja. Somehow, even without my noticing it, I started to care for him. To love him.”
“Well, then—”
Katie shook her head, silencing Molly. “He told me. He is where I was, stuck believing that he can’t love anyone else because of what people believe about Mattie. Maybe worse, because he feels she took away his ability to love.” She put her hands over her face. “I don’t know how to fight that. And even if I could, I’m to blame for the damage to his shop. He’ll never forget that.”
“But it wasn’t your fault. Who could know that Melanie’s boyfriend was such a crazy person that he thought he could keep her by destroying her friendships?” Molly’s small frame shuddered. “He might have gone after any of us.” She glanced around the farmhouse kitchen, as if imagining what could have happened to her home.
“I started the group.” Katie pressed her hands flat on the tabletop. “I invited Melanie. I was responsible.”
“It is wrong to think that.” Molly sounded as firm and solemn as Bishop Mose. “Mike is responsible for what he did. We must forgive him, but it’s foolish and wrong to try and take the responsibility. And if Caleb thinks that, I will tell him so myself.”
Katie managed a weak chuckle. “You are very decided all of a sudden, Cousin Molly.”
Molly grinned. “I’m a mammi now. I have to be grown-up.” She stood and held out her hand to Katie. “Will you komm?”
“Ja.” Her energy seemed to have returned. “Denke, Molly.”
They intended to leave right away, but nothing that involved a baby could be accomplished quickly. By the time Molly had settled little Jacob and given Rhoda detailed instructions on caring for him, Katie could have harnessed Daisy several times over. Finally they were off, but it was late morning by the time they reached town.
Katie averted her eyes as they turned into the lane next to the shop, wanting to put off seeing the damage for as long as possible. Too soon they were opening the back door, and she steeled herself as they walked in.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad because the picture was already in her mind. Or maybe it was because people were already there, working.
Donna, high on a ladder cleaning the upper shelves, turned to wave at her with a sponge. “Katie, I’m glad you’re here. We have about a million questions to ask you. Do you want the same things put back up here? Very few of them were damaged.”
“For goodness’ sake, let her catch her breath.” Lisa, in jeans and with her hair covered by a bright silk scarf, put down the quilt she was holding and came to hug Katie. “How are you? Did you get any sleep?”
“I’m fine. But you—” It was hard to speak over the lump in her throat. She glanced around the busy store.
Myra and Rachel were there, along with Naomi and Emma and several other women from the Amish community, including Ruth Weaver, of all people. They’d even brought their spouses and a few teenage children. The Englisch merchants were there, too, along with Paula Schatz and the niece who lived with her. They moved back and forth through Katie’s shop and Caleb’s shop, everyone helping.
Katie started to say they shouldn’t be doing all that work, but the words died in her throat. This was community. Her community. She couldn’t deny that.
Myra held an armload of quilted table runners. “It’s maybe not as bad as it first looked,” she said. “Joseph and some of the other men are repairing the broken racks. And these table runners were hardly touched at all.”
“The quilts . . .” Katie couldn’t finish that question.
“The quilts took the worst of it,” Naomi said, her voice brisk as if to deny emotion. “We’ve already sorted out those that can’t be saved at all. But komm, look what Emma and I are thinking about some of these.”
She led Katie to the display bed, which had taken the worst of the onslaught. Had Mike realized that the quilts were the most valuable items in the shop?
Probably he had, or else he’d just been lucky, from his point of view. He’d wanted to do the most damage possible.
“See this?” Emma disregarded the paint sprayed on part of a postage stamp quilt. “We can cut away the bad part, we’re thinking, and rebind it to make a smaller coverlet. And some of them can be remade into place mats and table runners.”
“They are not a total loss,” Naomi added. “We can find something to save on almost all of them.” Her smile was very sweet. “That is quilting, ja? We make something new out of what is left of the old.”
The word
s seemed to resonate through Katie, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear them. Still, even if she were closing the shop and going home, it would be wrong not to try with the quilts. Many of them were other people’s work—people who deserved to have them made right.
“Ja,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “We will save everything we can.”
“Gut. And look at this.” Naomi pulled a basket from under the bed. “Here are the patches for your new Lancaster Rose quilt. They were not touched at all. You can still make your new quilt.”
Katie took one of the squares in her hand, tears welling in her eyes. “I can still make my new quilt.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, wanting to turn the conversation away from herself. “How is Melanie doing?”
“Not so shocked,” Lisa said. “But still upset. I wanted her to come and help, but she’s blaming herself for everything.”
Naomi clucked. “Poor child. At least she should be thanking God she didn’t marry that man.”
“I’m afraid she’s not ready to see that yet,” Lisa said. “Sometime, maybe.”
“I just don’t understand.” Distress sounded in Myra’s soft voice. “What would make the man act that way?”
Lisa and Donna exchanged glances.
“It happens,” Lisa said. “Some men think loving gives them the right to control everything the loved one says and does. They don’t want her to have any friends or any interests beyond them.”
“That is not love,” Myra said, with surprising firmness for one so gentle. “Loving is wanting the best for that other person, no matter what.”
Lisa smiled. “Myra, I think you are very wise.”
Myra flushed, shaking her head.
This closeness among the women was what she’d hoped for, Katie realized. Just not quite the way she’d visualized it.
She had thought they’d be bonding, Amish and Englisch women, over a quilting frame as they sewed. Instead, they were bonding over the wreckage of her shop. Even if she had to leave Pleasant Valley, she would have done something gut here.