Hide in Plain Sight. Marta Perry

      Well, he was a very careful man, and he knew enough not to be impressed by Ms. Andrea Hampton.

      Not that her sister or grandmother had ever bad-mouthed her, but the picture had formed clearly enough in his mind from the things they said, and from her absence. Her elderly grandmother and her sister were struggling to get their bed-and-breakfast off the ground, and Ms. Successful Young Executive couldn’t be bothered to leave her high-powered life long enough to help them.

      Not his business, he supposed, but despite his intent to live in isolation, he’d grown fond of Katherine and her granddaughter in the time he’d been renting the barn on the Unger estate. He’d thought, when his wanderings brought him to Lancaster County, that he just wanted to be alone with his anger and his guilt. But Katherine, with her understated kindness, and Rachel, with her sweet nature, had worked their way into his heart. He felt a responsibility toward them, combined with irritation that the oldest granddaughter wasn’t doing more to help.

      Still, he’d been unjust to accuse her of careless driving. She’d been going the speed limit, no more, and he had seen the flash of her brake lights just before she’d rounded the curve.

      Her taillights had disappeared from view, and then he’d heard the shriek of brakes, the crunch of metal, and his heart had nearly stopped. He’d rounded the curve, fearing he’d see a buggy smashed into smithereens, its passengers tossed onto the road like rag dolls.

      Thank the good Lord it hadn’t come to that. It had been the car, half on its side in the ditch, which had been the casualty.

      Come to think of it, somebody might want to have a talk with young Jonah’s father. The boy had said he’d just pulled out onto the main road from the Mueller farm. He had to have done that without paying much attention—the approaching glow of the car’s lights should have been visible if he’d looked. All his attention had probably been on the pretty girl next to him.

      He didn’t think he’d mention that to Andrea Hampton. She might get the bright idea of suing. But he’d drop a word in Abram Yoder’s ear. Not wanting to get the boy into trouble—just wanting to keep him alive.

      Giving up the magazine as a lost cause, he tossed it aside and stared into space until he saw the elevator doors swish open again. Andrea came through, shoulders sagging a bit. She straightened when she saw him.

      “You didn’t need to wait for me.”

      He rose, going to her. “Yes, I did. I have your things in my truck, remember?”

      Her face was pale in the fluorescent lights, mouth drooping, and those green eyes looked pink around the edges. He touched her arm.

      “You want me to get you some coffee?”

      She shook her head, and he had the feeling she didn’t focus on his face when she looked at him. His nerves tightened.

      “What is it? Rachel’s going to be all right, isn’t she?”

      “They say so.” Her voice was almost a whisper, and then she shook her head, clearing her throat. “I’m sure they’re right, but it was a shock to see her that way. Both of her legs are broken.” A shiver went through her, generating a wave of sympathy that startled him. “And she has a concussion. The doctor I spoke with wouldn’t even guess how long it would be until she’s back to normal.”

      “I’m sorry to hear that.” His voice roughened. Rachel didn’t deserve this. No one did. He could only hope they caught the poor excuse for a human being who’d left her lying by the side of the road. If he were still an attorney, he’d take pleasure in prosecuting a case like that.

      Andrea walked steadily toward the exit. Outside, she took a deep breath, pulling the tailored jacket close around her as if for warmth, even though the May night didn’t have much of a bite to it.

      “I’ll just get my things and then you can be on your way.” She managed a polite smile in his direction.

      “How do you plan to get to your grandmother’s? I called to have your car towed to the Churchville Garage, but I don’t imagine it’ll be drivable very soon.”

      She shoved her hair back in what seemed to be a habitual gesture. It fell silkily into place again. “Thank you. I didn’t think about the car. But I’m sure I can get a taxi.”

      “Not so easy at this hour. I’ll drive you.” He yanked the door open.

      “I don’t want to take you out of your way. You’ve done enough for me already, Mr. Burke.” Her tone was cool. Dismissing.

      He smiled. “Cal. And you won’t be taking me out of my way. Didn’t you know? I’m your grandmother’s tenant.”

      He rather enjoyed the surprised look on her face. Petty of him, but if she kept in better contact with her grandmother, she’d know about him. Still, he suspected that if he were as good a Christian as he hoped to be, he’d cut her a bit more slack.

      “I see. Well, fine then.” She climbed into the truck, the skirt she wore giving him a glimpse of slim leg.

      He wasn’t interested in any woman right now, least of all a woman like Andrea Hampton, but that didn’t mean he was dead. He could still appreciate beautiful, and that’s what Andrea was, with that pale oval face, soft mouth and strong jawline. Come to think of it, she’d gotten the stubborn chin from her grandmother, who was as feisty a seventy-some-year-old as he’d met in a long time.

      She didn’t speak as he drove out of the hospital lot. He didn’t mind. God had been teaching him patience in the past year or so, something he’d never thought of before as a virtue. He suspected she’d find it necessary to break the silence sooner than he would.

      Sure enough, they’d barely hit the highway when she stirred. “You said you were my grandmother’s tenant. Does that mean you’re living in the house?” Her hands moved restlessly. “Or inn, I guess I should say, given Grams and Rachel’s project.”

      She didn’t approve, then. He could hear it in her voice.

      “I rent the barn from your grandmother. The newer one, behind the house. I’ve been there for six months now, and in the area for nearly a year.”

      Healing. Atoning for his mistakes and trying to get right with God, but that was something he didn’t say to anyone.

      “The barn?” Her voice rose in question. “What do you want with the barn? Do you mean you live there?”

      He shrugged. “I fixed up the tack room for a small apartment. Comfortable enough for one. I run my business in the rest of it.”

      “What business?” She sounded suspicious.

      He was tempted to make something up, but he guessed she’d had enough shocks tonight. “I design and make wood furniture, using Amish techniques. If you pick up any wood shavings on your clothes, that’s why.”

      “I see.” The tone reserved judgment. “Grams never mentioned it to me.”

      “Well, you haven’t been around much, have you?”

      He caught the flash of anger in her face, even keeping his eyes on the road.

      “I speak with my grandmother and my sister every week, and they came to stay with me at Easter, not that it’s any of your concern.”

      They were coming into the village now, and he slowed. There wasn’t much traffic in Churchville, or even many lights on, at this hour. The antique shops and quilt stores that catered to tourists were long since closed.

      He pulled into the drive of the gracious, Federal-style Unger mansion, its Pennsylvania sandstone glowing a soft gold in the light from the twin lampposts he’d erected for Katherine. He stopped at the door.

      He wouldn’t be seeing much of Andrea, he’d guess. She’d scurry back to her busy career as soon as she was convinced her sister would recover, the anxiety she’d felt tonight fading under the frenzied rush of activity that