by Marta Perry
Aaron gave him a sharp glance, wondering what was behind the question. “Jonah’s on the end of that first bench.”
“Hard to pick somebody out when they’re all dressed alike.” The man said it as if was an attempt to make his job more difficult. “He’s young to be a volunteer firefighter, isn’t he?”
“Almost seventeen. We don’t have so many volunteers that we can be choosy. Anyone underage has to have a parent’s permission.”
“Likes fighting fires, does he?”
The question might have been innocent, but it set off alarms in Aaron. What was the investigator implying?
“He likes doing his duty. The Amish benefit from the fire company, and we serve, too.”
“Convenient, I suppose, the two of you responding together.”
Aaron nodded. “We’re usually picked up by one of the Englisch volunteers.”
Fielding zeroed in on his face. “I understand Jonah was late in arriving at two of the recent fires.”
A warning stirred in Aaron, and he pushed it away to answer calmly. “Jonah is at rumspringa age.” Seeing the man’s blank expression, he knew he’d have to explain further.
“When Amish young people are in their late teens, they are allowed to experience freedom to do things with their friends—parties and such. It’s a time to have a bit of freedom before making a lifetime commitment to live Amish. Time for young folks to start pairing off, too. So Jonah was out with some friends when the alarm went. He got to the scene on his own.”
Why was Fielding asking so many questions about the boy? Jonah hadn’t done anything to make him suspicious, had he?
“This partying that goes on—I suppose kids get in a certain amount of trouble, don’t they? Drinking, vandalism and the like?”
“Beer parties, sometimes, I guess. Maybe some practical jokes, but they’d get in trouble with the church for any outright vandalism. If you’re suggesting that a gang of rumspringa kids would set fires, you’re wrong.”
Fielding gave him a cold look. “I’m investigating every option. Frankly, young fire volunteers are always worth a second look in an arson investigation. They get caught up in the excitement of fighting a fire. Sometimes they set one, just for the pleasure of fighting it. Excitement, feeling like a man—that can be tempting to a kid.”
“That’s nonsense. I know all of our young volunteers.” Aaron’s hands curled into fists with the effort of keeping his temper when he wanted to rage at the man.
Fielding shrugged. “Sometimes I have to investigate a lot of nonsense to find the truth. But I always find it in the end.” He turned and walked toward his car.
Aaron watched him go, torn between anger and fear. It was a bunch of foolishness, just as he’d said. Jonah would never put animals in danger, never burn down a neighbor’s livelihood.
But in the back of his mind an image rose—of Jonah, his face filled with excitement as he battled the fire. And Aaron was suddenly apprehensive.
* * *
SARAH LEANED BACK in the buggy seat with a sense of satisfaction late Monday. The day had been a busy one, what with working in the shop and then getting through the remaining possibilities for the quilt festival site with Aaron. But it had gone well, and now they were nearly home without having even one awkward moment between them—just a wholehearted enjoyment of doing something with an old friend. This was how it should be between them, she assured herself, trying not to think of the way her heart thudded each time he touched her to help her up and down from the buggy.
Aaron, driving, checked Molly as they approached the lane to the Bitler farm, no doubt intending to insist on unharnessing the mare for her.
“Just drive on to your place,” she said quickly, before he could make the turn. “I’ll drop you and come back.”
“No need.” He slowed the mare and turned in. “I’ll walk home across the field after I unhitch.” Before she could get in a word of protest, he continued, “Now, did anyone save some supper for us? We deserve it, ain’t so?”
“Your mamm has never let anyone go hungry in her house, and mine is the same, so I think we’re safe.” There was no point in arguing, and Sarah would enjoy a few more moments with him. “I’m wonderful glad you helped with getting a place for the festival. There’s a lot more to do, but Allison keeps saying we couldn’t move ahead until that was settled.”
Laugh lines crinkled the corners of Aaron’s blue eyes. “Sarah Bitler, you didn’t need any help at all. I’d never have thought you’d be such a good bargainer. Another five minutes and you’d have had the man giving it to us free.”
“That wouldn’t be fair.” She kept the words serious, but a smile tugged at her lips, and her heart seemed to swell at his praise. “The owner should have enough to cover his costs, but not the ridiculous amount he asked for at first. After all, the money raised is for the fire department. He’d be the first one to yell for the firemen if something happened at his building.”
Aaron grinned at her. “I’m glad you didn’t tell him so. Everyone knows Henry Morrison is an old skinflint.” He passed the house, continuing on to the barn.
“Ja, but he’s a businessman, too.” Sarah slid down when he stopped, not waiting for his help. She headed for the buckles on one side of the mare while Aaron took the other side. “If he wants to have a chance at selling or leasing the building, the best thing he can do is get a lot of people inside to see the renovations he’s made. All I had to do was point out that hosting the quilt festival would work to his advantage.”
“It’s you who’s the businessperson, Sarah.” Together they slid the harness off. Molly shook her head vigorously at being free of it and stepped forward when Aaron patted her. “I never dreamed that shy little Sarah could have turned into such a businesswoman.”
She really had to stop letting her heart flutter whenever he said something nice to her. “To be honest, I never dreamed it possible, either. When Allison’s grandmother offered me the chance at the quilt shop, I was scared out of my mind at the thought, taking on such a challenge when I was only eighteen.”
She led the mare clear of the shafts while Aaron ran the buggy backward to its usual parking spot.
When he turned to face her, he studied her with unusual gravity. “Was that why you didn’t marry? Because you had the shop?”
The question, coming out of the blue, rendered Sarah speechless for a moment. If he only knew...
“I think Mrs. Standish offered me the shop because she thought I wouldn’t marry. She was a kind woman, and she wanted me to have something.” Sarah kept her tone even with an effort.
“Eighteen was young to decide you weren’t going to marry.”
She shrugged, glancing away from him. “When you’re that age, maybe you don’t realize all the implications of the choices you make. Besides, we do some growing up in our twenties, ain’t so?”
It wasn’t really an answer to the question he’d asked, but he’d have to be satisfied with that much of the truth, because she wouldn’t say more.
Aaron nodded, and there was an expression in his eyes that she couldn’t interpret. “That’s true.” He seemed to shake himself free of whatever he was thinking. He stepped closer, patting the mare affectionately, his gaze fixed on Sarah’s face. “Anyway, you should be happy with the person you’ve turned into.”
They stood for a moment, looking at each other across the mare’s back. Aaron’s expression was that of someone gazing at a sight he’d never seen before, his lips curving tentatively, something of a question in his eyes. His hand moved, his fingers touching hers.
Sarah’s breath caught. Could he actually admire the woman she was now? She’d never thought, never imagined—
Molly shook her head impatiently, jerking Sarah back to reality.
Aaron stepped back, blinking as if to reorient himself to w
here he was and what he was doing. “There’s your brother coming to help you.” He cleared his throat. “I’d best get home. Jonah and I are trying to get Daad to let us do the patrolling, and we’ve had a struggle with him every evening.”
He moved off before Sarah could even get her wits about her again. Turning the mare over to Jonny, she went to the house, still a bit bemused, her fingers tingling where Aaron’s had touched them.
Sarah managed to shake off her feelings to get through what was left of the evening. Mamm had, of course, saved a generous helping of chicken pot pie for her, and wanted to hear all about using the old theater for the quilt festival. She was almost as enthusiastic as Allison was about the project, and came up with one idea after another for the festival.
Sarah shouldn’t be surprised at her mother’s reaction. After all, it was Mamm who’d talked her into going along with Allison’s idea of having a website for the quilt shop, and that had turned out wonderful gut.
It was already dark by the time Sarah put down the mending she’d been doing and rose to glance out the window, stifling a yawn. After such a busy day, an early bedtime seemed appealing.
“I’ll check the outbuildings before I go up, Daadi.”
Daad laid aside his newspaper and glanced at the window. “Might as well let the dogs out before you come in.”
“I will.” She lifted down a flashlight from the row of hooks by the back door and stepped outside, standing for a moment to let her eyes get used to the darkness.
People like Allison talked about how dark it was in the country at night, but that was only because Allison had spent her life in the city. Here, a person got used to moving about in the moonlight.
The moon was nearly full, but fitful clouds covered it momentarily and then moved away, letting the moonlight paint the scene in silver and black. Objects were just dark shadows, but since Sarah knew the location of everything on the farm, she could easily identify them. She walked toward the toolshed steadily, the flashlight swinging at her side, unlit. The night was so still she could hear the faintest rustle made by some nocturnal creature moving through the dry grass.
She wasn’t sure when the uneasiness began—maybe while she was looking around the toolshed. Somehow the shadows began to seem darker, their shapes more ominous.
Nonsense, she lectured herself. There is nothing here in the dark that’s not here in the light.
In any event, there certainly wasn’t anything unusual in the toolshed or behind it. She moved on, trying to shake off the prickly feeling on the back of her neck.
One by one she checked the outbuildings, trying to deny that the sensation was growing. There, nothing, you see? You can’t be so foolish as to get panicky at your own home just because it’s night. And you certain sure can’t prove the men right when they say this is their job.
She neared the barn, her steps moving more slowly despite her best efforts to speed up. Something rustled in the shadows cast by her buggy, and she froze, heart pounding, ears straining to identify the sound. Nothing for a moment, and then it came again. Her fingers were cold and awkward as she fumbled for the switch on the flashlight. It seemed to take forever to turn it on, and then the beam swung out, illuminating the shafts, body and wheels of the buggy. And a field mouse, startled into mobility, by one of the wheels.
Sarah let out a shaky laugh. How ridiculous she was being! She might have known it was something like that. An arsonist would make more noise than a gentle rustle. Switching off the torch again, she turned toward the barn door. She’d go inside and check, even though the animals would certain sure react if a stranger were in there. Molly would welcome a good-night pat.
The shadows lay deep on either side of the barn door, but Sarah’s encounter with the field mouse seemed to have laid her fears to rest. She strode forward, but stopped once more when something moved to the right of the door.
Her heart thumped again. No doubt it was Jonah, making the rounds of the farms before bed, just as it had been before.
She switched the flashlight on and began to raise it. “Jonah? Is that you?”
Before she could complete the motion, before she could even think, a dark, man-sized shadow hurtled toward her out of the shadows. A blow sent the torch flying. She gathered breath to scream. Rough hands shoved her. She stumbled, fell, hitting the ground so hard it knocked the breath out of her. For an instant the dark figure loomed above her, seeming incredibly huge. She struggled for breath. She had to scream, had to call for help—
But she couldn’t. Her chest seemed paralyzed, unable to draw in air. He leaned closer, hands reaching toward her. With an explosive gasp, Sarah drew in air and let it out in a piercing cry.
* * *
AARON WAS HALFWAY across the cornfield on his nightly round when he heard the scream. He bolted toward the sound, his heart pumping, his feet thudding on the dry ground between the rows. He tried to tell himself it was an animal, but he knew better. It had been a woman’s voice, and whose would it be but Sarah’s? If she had encountered the arsonist...
He burst into the open and spurted across the cleared ground toward the barn, sure that was where the cry had come from. Even as he ran, he saw lights coming on in the house, heard voices calling, and knew others had heard it, too.
Running full tilt, he nearly stepped on her. He dropped to his knees. “Sarah? Are you all right?”
To his relief, she was struggling to sit up, her breath coming in shaky gasps. Her fingers tightened on his arm. “Aaron. Someone—in the shadows—”
“Are you hurt?” He put his arm around her, supporting her. “Don’t try to move.”
For an instant she leaned her head against his shoulder and he cradled her in his arms. Then she straightened. “I...I’m all right. Just a little shaken.”
The beam of a flashlight pierced the darkness, showing Sarah’s pale face and wide eyes. Her heart-shaped kapp was askew, and there was a patch of dirt on her forehead. She gripped his arm as if unable to let go.
Another figure moved into the circle of light. “Was ist letz?” Eli Bitler knelt on the other side of his daughter, putting out a comforting hand. “What has happened?”
He looked at Aaron, but all Aaron could do was shake his head. “I was coming to check the buildings when I heard Sarah cry out. I didn’t see anything.”
Sarah’s mother reached them. Brushing past them, she put her arms around Sarah. “Ach, my Sarah.” She sent a quick glare toward the men. “Let me see if she is hurt first. Time enough later to hear what happened.”
Aaron moved back reluctantly so that Hannah would have more room, and Sarah let go of his arm.
“I’m fine, Mamm. Really.” She sounded more like herself now, probably determined to reassure her mother. “Someone was there, in the shadows by the barn door. He knocked the torch out of my hand and knocked me down.” Her voice shook, and a wave of protective anger surged through Aaron.
“Could you tell where he went?” Eli asked.
“Toward the woods.” She tried to gesture, and winced, as the movement must have hurt.
“You’re safe now, my girl,” Hannah crooned. “Komm, I’ll help you into the house.”
“I’ll carry her,” Eli said, bending, but Sarah managed a shaky laugh.
“Ach, I don’t need carrying.” She stood, swaying a little. Aaron had to repress the urge to pick her up himself.
Eli took one arm and Hannah the other as they started toward the house. Eli looked back over his shoulder at Aaron. “Will you wait? We should talk.”
Aaron nodded. They should talk, that was certain sure. But first, he wanted to take a look around. He found his own flashlight and switched it on. The one Sarah had had, which the intruder had knocked from her hand, was lying a few feet away. He picked it up and shook it. Glass tinkled, and it refused to come on.
Well, h
is would be enough to enable him to take a good look. He swung it in a slow arc. The ground was so dry that it told him nothing. He aimed the beam in the direction Sarah said the man had fled. There was no sign of anyone, but trampled long grass and broken branches showed where he had forced his way through the blackberry brambles. Aaron marked the place mentally. He’d come back and have a better look in the daylight.
He turned slowly, letting the light probe the shadows. Nothing there. Maybe the man had been approaching the barn when he’d heard Sarah coming, and had hidden there. Or maybe he’d already been in the barn and was trying to get away from the scene before she saw him.
Aaron’s nerves grew taut at the idea. The light showed him the barn door, open a few inches. He grasped it and pulled it back, dreading what he might find.
The animals moved slightly in their stalls, and Molly whickered. He flashed the beam around, and they stared solemnly back at him, all apparently safe in their stalls.
But as the beam dropped, he saw something that made his heart stop. On either side of the door, rags and dry wood had been propped against the frame. He bent for a closer look, not touching, and the scent of oil turned his stomach.
“Aaron?” Eli appeared in the doorway. “What is it?”
“Wait—don’t come in.” He stepped out carefully himself, mastering the urge to kick the inflammatory materials away from the barn.
“Why not?” Eli craned his neck, alarm lacing his voice.
“The firebug was here. He must have been setting up to torch the barn when Sarah interrupted him.” Aaron’s voice sounded strangled, even to himself. Sarah, breaking in on an arsonist. Who knew what a man like that was capable of?
Eli muttered under his breath for a moment. Then he moved as if to go into the barn. “I should get the animals out.”
Aaron caught his arm. “Don’t. It’s best not to disturb anything. The police will want to examine it.”
“Police?” Reluctance was plain in Eli’s voice. “I don’t know...”
“You are going to say we don’t call on the police—that we forgive and accept. But this isn’t just you, Eli. The arsonist is like a wild beast setting fires, and he won’t stop until he’s caught. What if someone dies? What if one of the firefighters is hurt or killed the next time?”