by Marta Perry
Sarah pushed aside a little spurt of pleasure at the sight of him, reminding herself of her promise. She’d assured Allison she’d speak to Aaron about finding a venue for the quilt festival the next time she saw him. She just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.
“Aaron, komm, sit.” Mamm bustled over to pull out a chair for him. “You’ll have some pie, ja? Sarah, bring a cup of coffee for Aaron.”
Exchanging a smile with him, Sarah did as she was bid. She and Aaron both knew that neither of their mothers could be content unless they were feeding someone, and Aaron would have pie whether he was hungry or not.
“Denke, Hannah. I need some information, so I thought I’d stop by on my way home from the mill. You don’t have to feed me, too.”
“Ach, as hard as you work, there’s always room for a little piece of pie.” Mamm beamed, putting a slice in front of him. “Coffee or lemonade?”
“Coffee is fine.” He accepted the cup Sarah handed him.
“Information?” Daad asked. “What can we help you with? Sarah usually knows everything that’s going on in town, what with being so busy at the shop every day.”
Daad, like her mother, had probably once longed to see Sarah settled with a family of her own, but he’d never said a word to imply that her shop was second best, and she was thankful.
“My mamm says that she thinks you have the address where Matthew Gibson went in Florida. I need to get in touch with him, so I hope you do.”
“Ja, I’m certain sure I put it in my address book,” Mamm said. She started to move, but Sarah forestalled her.
“I’ll fetch it, Mamm.” She crossed to the big cabinet against the far wall to pull open the drawer where Mamm kept all her correspondence.
Most Amish were great letter writers, and Mamm had always considered it her responsibility to keep in touch with distant relatives and friends. The address book was on top of a stack of round-robin letters from Mamm’s cousins in Ohio.
Sarah brought it back to the table, handed it to her mother and fetched a notepad and pencil from the counter. When she slid into her chair, she tried not to look at Aaron sitting diagonally from her, but she couldn’t help being aware of him. His strong hands held the coffee mug with what seemed an unusually tense grip.
Daad seemed to study Aaron’s face while Mamm wrote down the address. “Greet Matthew for us if you’re writing to him. Is there some special reason you need to get hold of him?”
Aaron frowned down at his coffee, as if trying to decide how to frame his answer. “Did you happen to notice the surveyors over at the Gibson place today?”
“No.” Daad looked surprised. “It wonders me what they’d find to do, if the property’s already sold.”
“Since nobody around here knows what’s going to become of the place, I figured I’d wander over and talk to them. It seemed at first they were just confirming the property lines.” Aaron glanced up, a smile in his eyes. “A nice job they were having of it, too, with most of the old landmarks gone. Last I saw of them, they were trudging up through the woods to try and find the stone pillar that marks one corner.”
Daad grinned. “I can’t imagine they liked that. But what’s the fuss about? If the place is going to be farmed...”
“That’s just it. Apparently it’s not. At least, not from what the surveyor said. He told me the owners hadn’t confided in him, but judging by the job, he’d guess they intended to cut it up into building lots.”
The three Bitlers stared blankly at Aaron for a moment before Daad spoke for all of them. “Building lots? But that doesn’t make sense. Who would want to be building houses way out here?”
“There’s not much demand for new houses even in town,” Sarah said, puzzling over it. “Besides, this area is zoned for agricultural use, isn’t it?”
Aaron nodded. “Well, it might not be housing lots. The surveyor couldn’t really tell that from the job. But it wouldn’t be the first time someone managed to get the zoning board to change the classification of land. Look what’s happened elsewhere in the county.”
“Ja, but over east they have more pressure from the suburbs for land.” Daad’s face was set in grave lines. “Making land so valuable for building that farmers can’t afford to buy it. No wonder so many Amish have moved out west or up north looking for farmland they can afford.”
“We thought it couldn’t happen here, but...” Aaron shrugged, letting the words trail off.
Sarah’s mind spun with possibilities. None of them would be eager to have a housing development across the road, changing the patterns of rural life. But where would all those people come from? It seemed so unlikely.
“When you talked to Harvey Preston about the sale, did he say anything about what the buyer intended? Surely he would know, ain’t so?” she asked.
Aaron’s lips set in a firm line for an instant. “He just said it was a company, not an individual. The surveyor said it was the Evergreen Corporation from Delaware, but that doesn’t mean anything to me. I guess I’ll be talking to Preston about it again. It seems like the neighbors have a right to know.”
The way Aaron said it made Sarah uneasy. “I’m sure Harvey would tell you anything he could. He seemed very concerned over the whole situation.”
“I hope so.” Aaron shrugged, as if to try to shake off his concern. “Daad wanted me to contact Matt Gibson as soon as we found out about the sale, but I said no. Now...well, I’d like to hear his side of the story. If this Evergreen Corporation is really going to build something over there, you’d think Matt would give his neighbors some warning.”
Daad was already nodding. “I’d have been certain sure he’d have told us, but looks as if I was wrong. Well, you’ll write to him and find out. That’s only right.”
“I’ll let you know what I hear from him,” Aaron said, rising. “I’d best get home to tuck my girls in.”
Sarah stood, as well. She still hadn’t spoken to him, and Allison would give her a hard time about it if she failed now. “I’ll walk out with you. I need to ask you something about the festival.”
Aaron held the screen door, and they went out together. “I’ve been falling down on the job I agreed to, ain’t so? We must get looking for a place where you can hold it. Do you have the list?”
“I do.” She held it up. “But I was thinking that you’re so busy I should just go ahead and do it myself. I’ll be fine, really.”
“Are you trying to keep me from helping?” He snatched the list from her, grinning, before she could pull it away. “You should know that won’t work.” He scanned the list quickly. “Mamm and Becky are planning to come to the shop tomorrow afternoon to work on some of the quilts for the festival that need repair. Suppose I bring them in when they come? Then you and I can get going on this list while they’re working. All right?”
Sarah didn’t seem to have a choice, and despite her concern, the idea of spending time with him elated her. “That will be fine. We should be able to check out a couple of places, at least.”
He gave her a boyish grin. “Your partner’s been bugging you about it, ain’t so? That’s the Englisch for you. Hurry, hurry, hurry.”
“True, but if Allison weren’t so energetic, we wouldn’t have this chance of making the extra money for the fire company. We make good partners, because we each like different sides of the business.”
“Is that what makes a good partnership?” Aaron looked down at her, his eyes seeming to smile in a way that made her heart turn over. “It’s kind of like a marriage, then.”
“I don’t know much about that,” she said quickly, afraid he’d see her blushing.
Aaron was silent for a moment, the laughter leaving his face. Suddenly his hand brushed hers, and she forgot to breathe. “You should be married with a husband and kinder of your own, Sarah. Why aren’t you?”
Pa
nic seized her, and she fought it off. He could never know the truthful answer to that question. “Just meant to be an old maid, I think.” She was proud of the light tone she managed to achieve. “It’s too late to change now.” She took a step back, groping behind her for the porch railing. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Aaron.”
He stood for another moment, frowning a little. Then he nodded and turned away. “Good night, Sarah.” The words floated back to her on the warm air.
* * *
THE HEAT FROM the burning building came at Aaron in fierce waves. He helped to steady the fire hose as the crew sent a stream of water over the flames. Sweat poured down his body under his turnout gear, and he fought to stay in unison with the others.
He suspected they, like him, had started to relax after several days and nights without incident, feeling the firebug had taken his last shot, or that he’d decided to fade into the background since the fire inspector was on his track. Obviously they’d been wrong.
“At least it’s not a barn,” Nick, next to him, yelled over the noise.
Aaron nodded. Something to be thankful for. This time the fire was at a detached garage in a residential area on the edge of town. Different—a break in the pattern, if there was a pattern. What would Fielding think of that?
The man was in attendance. Aaron had already spotted him pulling up not far behind the fire trucks. He’d been taking photos, making notes. Aaron frowned. Some of the photos seemed to be of the bystanders and even the firefighters. Was it considered suspicious to come out and watch when a neighbor’s garage was on fire? Surely not.
Another firefighter moved forward and took over Aaron’s position on point. He eased back, seizing a moment to look around. Where was Jonah? The boy should be here.
The alarm had sounded soon after midnight, apparently, and the pager the chief insisted upon even the Amish using now had gone off, startling Aaron. He hadn’t even realized his brother was out, but when he’d gone to wake him, the bed hadn’t been slept in.
Worry churned his stomach and gnawed at his nerves. How many nights had Jonah gone out that they hadn’t known about? Well, Daad knew now, and he’d be having a serious talk with the boy come morning.
A shower of sparks flared out, going dangerously close to the neighboring house. A man wielding a garden hose was on it in an instant—probably the neighbor. Dry as the grass was, the flames could spread only too easily.
Aaron spotted a slight figure running forward through the crowd, pulling on turnout gear. Jonah. There he was at last. Exasperation mingled with worry. What were they going to do about him?
Jonah checked in with the chief and then ran toward them. He grabbed the hose where Aaron held it. “Chief says for you to come help with the pumper. I’m to take over here.”
Aaron nodded. Now wasn’t the time to say anything he might later regret. He relinquished his spot and jogged back to the truck.
“She’s wheezing like an old lady.” The fire chief peered anxiously into the pumper’s innards. “See if you can get the pressure stabilized.”
This was the constant worry, and all the tinkering in the world hadn’t seemed to help. The fact was they needed a new pumper, and sometimes Aaron thought it would take a tragedy to wake people up enough to see that they got it.
He tried to keep an eye on Jonah from his position on the far side of the truck. His brother had moved up now, taking the spot at the front end of the hose. The flames seemed to be dying down a little, or maybe just spreading out, ready to burst through somewhere else. Fire could behave like a wild animal, striking just when you thought it was under control.
But the pumper had steadied, and the men advanced slowly, obviously convinced they had the fire in retreat. Apprehension grabbed hold of Aaron’s throat. Jonah was close to the flames now. Too close? He’d have moved in more slowly, but—
“Kerosene!” somebody yelled, and a man came running from a car that had just pulled up next to the house. “Get them back. I have kerosene stored in there.”
The chief was already signaling, but the boys in the front of the line didn’t react. Jonah—
Aaron leaped from the pumper, racing forward. Jonah hadn’t heard the call, engrossed in the excitement of fighting the fire. “Jonah! Pull back, pull back!”
The fire roared, blanketing whatever sound he made. Once it hit the kerosene, there could be a flashover, a sudden burst of flame igniting everything around it. Jonah...
Save your breath, use it for running. He seemed to be moving in slow motion, had to get to his brother...
Aaron reached, grabbed, connected, Jonah’s startled face turned toward him. “Kerosene!” he shouted. “Run!”
The others, already warned, were racing back. Aaron clutched his brother’s arm, pulling him along as they ran toward safety. A roar, deafening, and Aaron felt himself ripped away, flying through the air, descending into blackness.
It seemed only a second before he opened his eyes, struggling with hands gripping him. “Hold still,” someone demanded. “Here. Take a couple breaths of oxygen. You’ll feel better.”
His head cleared, and he recognized Mike Callahan, paramedic with the rescue squad. Mike clapped an oxygen mask on his face before he could protest.
Aaron yanked it free. “Jonah—”
“Jonah’s fine. He’s right here.” Mike sounded exasperated. “You’re both okay, so just take it easy.”
It seemed a chore to turn his head. Jonah was on the grass next to him, sitting up, head between his knees, looking young and vulnerable.
“You all right?” Aaron put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, feeling the skinny strength of a boy turning into a man.
Jonah nodded. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Mike interrupted. “You both did a good job, now relax and let the others finish up. They’re not going to save anything of the garage, but any idiot who decides it’s a good idea to store a couple of containers of kerosene in his garage deserves what he gets.” Mike snorted. “Said he was buying up now for his kerosene heater while the price was low. Turned out to be a pretty expensive savings.”
Aaron coughed and cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose he planned on a firebug.”
“We don’t know for sure it was set,” Mike said. “Though judging by the way that state police guy is snapping pictures, he must think so.”
Someone called to Mike just then, and he moved away.
“You sure you’re okay?” Aaron said, patting his brother’s shoulder. “Mamm won’t let me hear the end of it if you got hurt.”
Jonah nodded, turning to look at him, his eyes red-rimmed and his face sooty. “I meant it. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” If he was talking about sneaking out, he’d best save that for Daad.
“When you grabbed me, I was mad at you. I thought you were just being...well, you know. Like you didn’t trust me to do anything right.”
The words struck at Aaron’s heart. Had he really been acting that way? Maybe so. Jonah hadn’t been especially trustworthy lately, but dealing with that wasn’t his job, as Jonah’s big brother.
“Forget it,” he said. “Guess I’ve been a little too bossy lately. I’m sorry, too.”
Jonah ducked his head as if in agreement, grinning. Aaron cuffed him lightly on the shoulder, smiling back, and his spirit lightened. All of a sudden he felt closer to his brother than he had in a long time.
* * *
SARAH DIDN’T EXPECT Aaron to show up the next afternoon—not after she’d heard about the fire and the danger he and Jonah had been in. Nick had tried to downplay the situation, but she’d already heard a lurid account of the fire from Emily, the bookstore owner, whose home was just a few doors away.
Common sense told Sarah not to put too much stock in Emily’s story, since the least t
hing was apt to become dramatic in the woman’s mind, but even allowing for that, it sounded as if it had been serious.
They’re all right, Sarah repeated to herself throughout the morning. If they weren’t, she’d have heard by now. The Amish grapevine flourished, especially when it came to spreading bad news or calling for assistance.
Even so, she found herself jerking to attention each time the bell over the shop door jingled, and soon after lunch it announced the arrival of Esther and Becky King. Anna and Lena were behind them, each holding one of their father’s hands. Sarah’s breath went out with such force she felt as if she’d been holding it all morning.
“Wilkom.” She smiled even as she searched Aaron’s face for any sign of injury or pain. But he looked fine, nudging his daughters to respond to her greeting.
“You don’t mind that we brought our two little helpers, do you, Sarah?” Esther removed her bonnet, patting the brown hair that was just beginning to turn gray.
“I’m sehr glad they came.” Sarah bent to greet each of the girls personally. “Anna, you are looking more like your aunt every day. And, Lena, how did you get so tall?”
Anna darted a glance at her aunt Becky and smiled, as if deciding it was a good thing to look like her.
“Grossmammi says I’m growing right out of my dresses,” Lena announced proudly. “Oh, look at the kitty.”
Allison’s cat, a fixture at the shop, approached cautiously and then allowed Anna to pat him, purring when she stroked his orange back. Lena squatted down, holding out her fingers, and giggled when he sniffed at them.
“I hope you don’t mind them being here,” Aaron murmured under cover of collecting bonnets and bags to stow away in the back room. “They wanted to come.”
“You don’t need to ask that, do you? They are always wilkom here. But I didn’t expect to see you today. I heard you were injured at last night’s fire.” She tried to keep the anxiety from her voice and didn’t entirely succeed.