When Secrets Strike. Marta Perry

I guess.” The finality in his tone made it clear the subject was closed. Aaron glanced at the soiled fabric she had crumpled in her hand. “Are you going to try and salvage that piece?”

      She could wash it and add it to the box of remnants she kept for people who needed just a small amount of one color. But the dirty streak on the pale color seemed to remind her of the discomfort she’d felt at being alone in the shop with Gus.

      “Not worth it,” she said, and tossed it into the trash. There was an end to it. She’d never felt uncomfortable being alone in the shop before, and she wouldn’t start now. The shop was her creation and her haven, and it occurred to her that if she hadn’t lost Aaron, she’d never have had the shop.

      “Gut. I’ll put this back for you.” He started to pick up the bolt, but then stopped and grinned, looking for a moment like the boy he’d once been. “If you think my hands are clean enough.” He held them out, palms up, as if for inspection.

      She couldn’t help looking. They were good, strong hands—hands that could do a hard day’s work and yet be gentle enough to soothe a troubled child. For an instant she imagined them touching her, imagined having the right to hold them close against her—

      Sarah yanked her mind away from such dangerous thoughts, hoping the warmth in her cheeks didn’t mean she was blushing.

      “You’ll do,” she said briskly. “Mind you put it back in the right place.”

      “Bossy,” he said with a smile, and moved away.

      By the time he’d completed that small task, Sarah had her breathing under control again. Aaron headed for the door, and she followed him with a question.

      “Is there any news about the fire marshal getting involved yet?” As a volunteer, Aaron would probably know as quickly as anyone.

      “Nothing I’ve heard. Since there wasn’t any significant damage, it’s not likely the state police marshal would get involved.” Aaron stood frowning, his hand on the doorknob. “I have a bad feeling about these fires, though.”

      She nodded. “My daad must have gone out six times to check the barn last night. He’s trying not to let the younger ones see that he’s upset, but...” She let that trail off, knowing Aaron would understand.

      “Anybody old enough to remember the last time we had a firebug has to feel that way.” He rested his hand on the door frame.

      “It’s strange, isn’t it, that the fires were during the day?” she said. “From the little I remember, all the ones before started at night.”

      “Maybe it means the firebug is getting bolder,” Aaron said.

      “You think it’s the same person, then?”

      He frowned, looking older for an instant. “I didn’t at first, but I’m starting to wonder. Still, it’s funny he’d be quiet all these years and then start up again.”

      “Unless something happened to set him off.” She shivered. “That’s what troubles me the most—the thought that there’s somebody who’s not right in the head getting pleasure out of seeing people’s property burn.”

      “Ach, we shouldn’t be talking about it.” He seized her hands in a warm, strong grip. “We’ll be giving ourselves nightmares, that’s what’ll happen.”

      “Better to be prepared than pretend it’s not happening. And I told Daadi that I’ll be doing some of those nighttime trips of his to have a look around, so don’t you bother telling me anything different.”

      Aaron’s fingers tightened at that, but finally he shrugged and released her. “I guess if your daad can’t talk you out of it, there’s no use my trying. Just be sure you call for help if you see anything, and don’t rush in on your own.” His gaze held hers, even though they no longer touched. “Promise me that, please, Sarah.”

      She could try telling him that her welfare wasn’t his concern, but that would be a waste of breath, wouldn’t it? “All right. I promise.”

      Aaron gave a short nod, brushed her fingers lightly with his and went out. Sarah stood for a moment, watching his tall, sturdy figure silhouetted by the light pouring through the glass panes in the door, and then turned back to the shop.

      This was the life she’d chosen, she reminded herself. She had to be satisfied with it.

       CHAPTER THREE

      MOVING QUIETLY, AARON bent over the twin bed in which Anna slept. At eight, she seemed to be growing out of her clothes practically daily, so Mamm said, but when she was sleeping, with her small face relaxed, her lips a little curved, she was still the baby he’d marveled over when the midwife had put his firstborn in his arms. Her flaxen hair lay in neat braids on the pillow, and one hand curled against her cheek.

      Aaron dropped a kiss on her forehead and moved to the other bed. Lena, six, slept as intensely as she did everything, a little wrinkle between her brows as if she concentrated in her dreams. Her hair, as light as her sister’s, spread in wild abandon, having long since lost the ties that were supposed to keep it in braids at night.

      Funny that neither of the girls resembled him or Mary Ann. They were much more like his sister Becky in looks. Smoothing the rumpled sheet over Lena’s shoulders, he kissed her, as well. She turned a little, as if she felt his touch in her sleep, and then settled.

      His heart always seemed to expand when he saw his precious girls sleeping. They were so vulnerable, so utterly dependent on him for their present and their future. He would do anything to assure that future.

      The thought reminded him of the day’s disappointment, and he was frowning as he tiptoed out into the hall, easing the door closed behind him. If he’d been able to buy the Gibson place, he wouldn’t have to worry so much about providing for his kinder. Matt Gibson’s action had been as surprising as it was upsetting. Aaron would never have expected the man to let him down this way.

      He started down the stairs, running his hand along the banister worn smooth by generations of his family. He loved being back here in the house where he was raised, instead of the small house Mary Ann had wanted to rent on the other side of town. This was certainly the best place for his girls, with Mamm and Becky to look after them. The addition of the Gibson place to Daad’s farm would have allowed that situation to continue. Now—well, now Aaron wasn’t sure what to do next.

      He’d probably vented a bit too much to Sarah, but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t wanted to let his parents see how upset he was, because they shouldn’t have to worry about him.

      But Sarah was safe. He could say anything to her and know it would go no further. Sarah was, as she’d always been, loyal and honest all the way through. She’d never told on him and the other boys when they were kids, even to save herself from trouble. He hadn’t realized how close they’d been until adolescence seemed to push them apart with his sudden awareness of her as a female, not just a friend.

      Mamm, Daad and Becky had gathered in the kitchen as they often did in the evening. He paused, rubbing the tension at the back of his neck and trying to erase his frown before he joined them.

      As usual, Mamm was piecing together a patch for one of her intricate quilts. Becky, at seventeen nearly as skilled with a needle as Mamm, had material for a dress laid out on the table. Daad sat with a last cup of coffee, the Amish newspaper on his lap.

      “They’re both asleep, ain’t so?” Mamm smiled at Aaron, her soft brown eyes crinkling behind her wire-rimmed glasses. “You don’t find Anna and Lena awake and looking out the window at the stars, like you used to do.”

      “Sound asleep,” he agreed. He considered a cup of coffee and decided against it. It didn’t seem to bother Daad to drink it this late, but Aaron would be staring at the stars again if he had any. “Jonah is out, is he?”

      Mamm nodded, sending a slightly worried glance toward