Abandon the Dark. Marta Perry

said. “And it’s gut to keep your hands busy when you’re worried. At least then you have something to show for your worrying,” she added, her tone practical.

      Lainey actually found herself laughing. “If that’s the case, I should have a half-dozen quilts done by now.” She picked up the pieces and held the needle poised. “Well, we can always rip it out if my stitches are too terrible.”

      But her sewing wasn’t half bad once she started. Thanks to Aunt Rebecca’s early tutelage, she’d always been able to do the hemming and mending most of her peers seemed unable to tackle. Tiny, even stitches, she reminded herself.

      The routine, repetitive movements were oddly soothing, reminding her of how much she’d always enjoyed the creativity involved in hand arts. Most of her colleagues would dismiss sewing, knitting, crocheting as crafts, insisting they had no place beside the work of a real artist.

      But who was to say which was important? Katie’s creations might never hang in a gallery, but they clothed her family in garments made by her own loving hands.

      They worked in silence for some time, but there was nothing either boring or uncomfortable about it. Lainey glanced at her great-aunt. It seemed to her that Aunt Rebecca had relaxed somewhat, her face turned slightly toward them instead of squarely on the pillow. The room was oddly peaceful.

      “Zeb came to see me this morning,” she said abruptly. Would Katie have known about his intent?

      “Ja?” Katie looked up, her expression guarded. “What did he want?”

      Lainey shrugged. “The same as yesterday, I suppose. He just tried a different approach this time. Ella and Thomas came with him, and she brought me food.” She cast a rueful glance at the remains of her lunch. If she kept eating everything her Amish relatives pushed on her, she’d gain twenty pounds while she was here.

      “Ella’s a sweet girl,” Katie said. “But young Thomas is so shy it wonders me that he’d come to meet you.”

      “I don’t suppose his grandfather gave him much choice.”

      “No.” Katie was frowning. “He brought up this business about the power of attorney, did he? I wish he’d leave well enough alone.”

      “He thinks Aunt Rebecca should have appointed him.” She turned in her chair so she couldn’t miss Katie’s expression. “Is that what you think, too?”

      “No.” Katie’s response was so prompt and firm that Lainey couldn’t doubt her sincerity. “Not Zeb. He’s too set on his own way.” She looked at Lainey, her expression troubled. “But there are other relatives.”

      Lainey’s heart sank a little. Despite Katie’s friendliness, she must agree that Lainey wasn’t the person for the job.

      “I told Zeb I’m going to do what Aunt Rebecca wanted.” If that came out sounding a little belligerent, she couldn’t seem to help it. “All I can do is my best.”

      Katie studied her for a long moment. Then she nodded. “Ja. All right.” She smiled and patted Lainey’s hand, but Lainey thought the smile held a tinge of doubt. “Then I will help you as best I can.”

      “Thank you.” Her throat tightened. Maybe that wasn’t a wholehearted endorsement, but at this point, she’d take any support she could find.

      * * *

      THE REALITY OF the situation had begun to sink in by the time Lainey was headed back to the house late that afternoon, and she was already having second thoughts despite Katie’s promise of help.

      As usual, she’d acted on impulse, letting Zeb’s antagonism push her into making a decision. Was she ever going to learn?

      Lainey pulled the car to the curb in front of Miller’s and got out, pausing for a moment as memories crowded in. She had been allowed to walk to the store on her own the summer she’d stayed with her great-aunt, but usually she’d come with Meredith and Rachel, intent on the purchase of candy—real, old-fashioned penny candy, scooped into a small brown paper bag from the glass case.

      The store looked larger than she’d remembered, but it still had pots of flowers on either side of the front door and a hitching rail at the side where Amish buggies could be parked. She touched a deep burgundy mum with her fingers, releasing its spicy scent, and went on into the store.

      Lainey paused for a moment inside the door, orienting herself. Groceries were on the right, as always, but the left side of the store had been expanded. It was filled with handcrafted items to delight the heart of a tourist. Faceless Amish dolls, quilted place mats and table runners, even a few hooked rugs crowded the counters. The upper shelves held wooden items like napkin holders and even a small train.

      The deep, saturated colors of a quilted table runner drew her, but she resisted the impulse and turned into the grocery aisle. Before she could pick up a box of cereal, a voice called her name.

      “Lainey? It is you. I heard you were coming back to look after your great-aunt. It’s wonderful gut to see you.”

      Anna Miller looked much as she had twenty years ago, with a white apron over a dark blue Amish dress and a wide smile on her round face. The face might be a little rounder, the hair a bit more gray, the curves more generous, but Anna Miller hadn’t changed much.

      “Mrs. Miller.” Lainey walked quickly to the back counter. “I’d have known you anywhere. How are you?”

      “Anna, please. You’re a grown-up now, ain’t so? But you still have a look of that little girl we knew.” Her cheerful face sobered. “I’m afraid it’s a sad business that brought you back to us.”

      Lainey nodded. Obviously all of Deer Run knew who she was and why she was here. They probably knew what she’d had for supper last night. “I wish I’d come sooner.”

      She blinked, a little surprised at herself. With everyone else she’d felt defensive on that subject, but with Anna, one had the sense that, like Aunt Rebecca, she wouldn’t judge.

      “You’re here now, that’s what counts. How is your dear aunt today?” Anna leaned on the counter, seeming ready for a long chat.

      “I don’t think there was much change from yesterday.” Her throat tightened. Aunt Rebecca’s hands had always been so busy—stitching or stirring or comforting a child. It had seemed wrong to see them lying lax on the white hospital sheet.

      “It’s hard to see someone we love chust lying there.” Seeming to read her mind, Anna reached across the counter to pat Lainey’s hand. “But with a stroke, sometimes it takes time for the brain and body to heal. Don’t give up hope.”

      “I won’t.” That was another thing that was easy to say but perhaps not so easy to do. What if this went on day after day, week after week? What would she do then?

      “We are all praying for her,” Anna said softly. “She is in God’s hands.”

      Lainey’s throat was too tight for her to do anything but nod.

      “Ach, I’m talking away and not helping you with your shopping. You aren’t here for penny candy this time, ain’t so?” Anna’s eyes twinkled, and she gestured toward the glass-enclosed case at the end of the counter. The top part contained a variety of obviously homemade baked goods, while below there was the familiar array of bubble gum, Swedish fish, and lollipops.

      “No, I think I’ll pass on that this time. We used to be awful pests at picking out what we wanted, it seems to me.”

      “You and Meredith and Rachel,” Anna said. “You’ve talked to them since you came back?”

      “Just briefly. They came over for a little while last night. It was nice to see them after such a long time.”

      Nice, but odd. Maybe even a bit awkward. What did you say to people you hadn’t seen in twenty years?

      “You were always together that summer, ain’t so? It’s