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“Big deal. So Mandy gets to go to college, but in the meantime she and her mother can barely scrape by. Not what I call fair.”
“Hey, don’t blame me. It’s the best Dad could do, and believe me, he had to fight for that much.” Jake looked defensive. “Why do you care so much, anyway? I know you and Ronnie were good buds in high school, but a lot of water has gone over the dam since then.”
He shrugged, having no desire to look too closely into his feelings. “No big deal. Like you said, Ronnie was a friend. I figure I owe Rachel a little support.”
He’d failed to do the right thing when he was eighteen. If he hadn’t been so intent on following that mysterious code by which teenagers lived, he might have prevented Ronnie and Rachel from a decision that had messed up several lives, as far as he could tell.
That wasn’t his only failure, of course. He was doing his best to make amends for not being here when his parents needed him. Now he had a chance to make amends to Rachel, as well, if he could figure out how. And if she would let him.
CHAPTER THREE
THE WOMAN COMING out of the market stared at Rachel with such curiosity that Rachel almost felt compelled to explain her presence. She’d forgotten that open curiosity about one’s neighbors wasn’t just tolerated in a small community like Deer Run, it was also expected. Ushering Mandy ahead of her, she slipped into the store and let the door close behind her with a jingle of its bell.
“Wow. What a cool store. Did you used to come here when you were a little girl, Mommy?” Mandy stared with fascination at a case labeled Live Bait, and Rachel suspected a question about that was coming up next.
“I did, yes. But it’s bigger now than it used to be.”
It looked as if Anna and Jacob Miller had expanded their modest grocery into the next storefront, with a whole section devoted to crafts and trinkets of the sort beloved of tourists. In a few steps Mandy, forgetting live bait, had become absorbed by a display of small wooden Amish dolls.
“Rachel Mason!” The voice boomed from the counter at the rear of the shop. “It wondered me when you’d get in here to say hello to old friends.”
“Anna.” A trickle of thankfulness ran through her at the warmth in Anna Miller’s voice. “It is wonderful gut to see you.”
She lapsed automatically into Pennsylvania Dutch and then caught herself. She’d told herself she would speak English in front of Mandy when they came back here, but she hadn’t realized how difficult it would be.
Catching Mandy’s hand, she led her daughter to the counter. “This is my little girl, Mandy. Mandy, this is Mrs. Miller.”
“Ach, I would know her for yours in a minute.” Anna beamed with satisfaction. “Mandy, do you know you look just like your mammi did at your age?”
Mandy blinked, looking at her mother as if assessing the truth of the claim. “Do I? I haven’t ever seen any pictures of Mommy when she was nine, so I didn’t know.”
“Ach, no, you wouldn’t.” Anna had the trick of talking to a child as if they were contemporaries, which had always made her a favorite with the young ones. “Your mammi was brought up Amish, like me. We don’t hold with taking photographs of people.”
A gesture indicated Anna’s blue dress and matching apron. There were more strands of gray in the brown hair smoothed back under Anna’s kapp, and she’d added another chin or two to her round face, but otherwise she was much as Rachel remembered her.
“Why?” Mandy was being curious, that was all, but had such a blunt question of an adult come from an Amish child, it would have earned a quick reprimand from a parent.
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” Rachel said quickly. “You can go and look at the dolls while Mrs. Miller and I talk.”
The flash in Mandy’s intelligent eyes said she knew when she was being gotten rid of, but she returned to the display counter.
“You’ve expanded the shop, I see,” Rachel said quickly. “Business must be good.”
“So-so.” Anna waggled her hand. “We get more tourists through Deer Run than we used to, so I told Jacob we had to take advantage of the trade. And there’s talk that the gas drilling they’re doing north of here will come to this area, too. That will bring in new people, I should think.”
“Do folks want to see that happen here?” From the little she’d read, it sounded as if the new methods of gas drilling caused considerable controversy.
“Some do, some don’t.” Anna’s face clouded. “The bishop fears the effect of easy money on the Leit.”
The Leit. The Amish. She hadn’t heard that expression in years. And the bishop had a typically Amish attitude, which ran exactly counter to contemporary culture, in a case like this. Making money too easily, or becoming what the world would call a success, could have a bad effect on humility, that typically Amish virtue.
“I’d think it safer to count on the tourists,” she said.
“Ja, we do. As you will, too. I hear you are going to open Mason House as a bed-and-breakfast, ain’t so?”
She nodded. News spread fast in a place like Deer Run. She’d only mentioned her plans to Colin yesterday. Of course, Anna would probably have heard through Rachel’s family, not Colin.
“I hope so. I don’t know what else to do with a house that size. It’s way too big for the two of us.” Something Amanda Mason had certainly known when she’d left her property as she had.
Anna nodded. “It’s a gut plan, I think. And it will keep you here, where you belong.”
“I’m afraid not everyone thinks I belong here.” The words slipped out before she could caution herself that they were unwise.
“Don’t you think such a thing. Your daadi will come around, you wait and see.” Anna didn’t bother pretending she didn’t know what Rachel meant. “He is being as stubborn as old Mrs. Mason, and she accepted you in the end, ja?”
Rachel wasn’t sure accepted was the right word, but she nodded. “I hope. So far Benj is the only one acting normal around me. And now you.”
“Not chust me,” Anna responded quickly. “You have plenty of friends here who will be glad to see you. And when you’re ready to open, I will be mentioning your B and B to every tourist who comes in here. Folks will want to stay at a place run by somebody raised Amish. You’ll see.”
That comment stirred up more concerns. “I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m trying to make money out of having been Amish.”
Anna spread plump hands, palms up. “Why not? Everyone else does, it seems. Folks say the tourists are going to komm anyway. We might as well make some money off them.”
Anna had a point. It seemed she would have to get rid of any squeamish scruples if she intended to make a go of the business.
The bell jingled, and Anna glanced automatically toward the door. “Remember what I was saying about your friends? Here is one, I see. You remember Meredith King, ja?” She raised her voice. “Meredith, look who is here. You and Rachel were great friends when you were little girls, I remember.”
Rachel turned, surveying the woman who stood giving her the once-over in return. Meredith King. Meredith lived just two houses down from Mason House, so she was practically a neighbor now.
The friendship Anna mentioned hadn’t actually lasted very long, but Rachel’s memories of her Englisch friend were oddly distinct. Meredith might no longer wear torn-at-the-knees jeans and faded T-shirts, but her glossy dark brown hair was the same, worn sleekly straight to curve around a fine-boned face.
Meredith’s chocolate-colored eyes seemed to warm when they rested on her. “Rachel, is it really you? I could hardly believe it when I heard you were coming back to Deer Run.”
Rachel felt herself stiffen. “Brave of me, do you think?”
A delicate pink bloomed in Meredith’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean it that way. But if I managed to escape Deer Run, I wouldn’t be coming back in a hurry.”
Before Rachel could think of a proper response, Meredith had turned to Anna. “A quart of the goat’s milk for my mother, please. And if Rachel has time, a couple of coffees and sweet rolls.”
She glanced at Rachel. “Please? I can’t let you get away without a talk after all this time. And Anna has the best coffee and sweet rolls in town.” She gestured toward an area beyond the counter, which Rachel now realized was fitted with a few round tables and chairs, another addition since her time.
“Sounds great. But I have my daughter with me. Let me see if she’s ready for something to drink.” She went quickly to Mandy with the question, but her daughter was busy fitting the pieces of a miniature wooden train together.
“Not now, Mommy.” Mandy didn’t bother to do more than glance up.
“I’ll be over at the table if you change your mind.” It seldom worked well to try to distract Mandy from her single-minded absorption in the fascination of the moment.
The coffee and rolls were already on the table by the time Rachel joined Meredith, the rolls the traditional spirals oozing with so much brown sugar and cinnamon that her hands would need a thorough scrubbing afterward.
“She reminds me of you at that age.” Meredith watched Mandy, smiling slightly. “Sweet and serious.”
“Mandy has a mischievous side, as well.” Rachel put a spoonful of sugar in her coffee and stirred. “But then I guess I did, too.”
“As I recall, you were the one who talked us into catching minnows in the creek when I had a good dress on,” Meredith said. “Not that I wasn’t just as happy to get rid of that ruffled number my mother had picked out.”
“I think you fell in the mud on purpose.” Amazing, how easy it was to slip back to that relationship they’d had twenty summers ago. “I see you’re picking your own clothes now.” She nodded at Meredith’s softly tailored shirt, worn with a single gold chain and a neat pair of tan slacks.
“Eventually even my mother had to admit that I wasn’t the frilly sort.” Meredith raised an eyebrow. “But your change in dress is more serious. How is your family adjusting to having you back again?”
Rachel shrugged. True, her denim skirt and plain cotton shirt were modest, but they were a far cry from Amish clothing. “Mixed reception, I guess. Mammi is glad to see Mandy, I’m sure, but Daad and my brother Mose gave me a distant nod the one time I saw them.”
She made an effort not to let the hurt show in her voice, but she had a feeling Meredith saw through it. Her face warmed with sympathy.
“What about your sisters? And the little brother...Benjamin, is it?”
Rachel nodded. “Benj, yes. He’s the only one who acts normally around me.” Except for those odd moments of fear and tension that still worried her. “The girls are like Mamm. Cautious.”
“I’m sorry,” Meredith said softly. “I know what it’s like to turn to a parent who’s not there.”
“I heard about your father’s death. I’m so sorry for your loss. You were still in college then, weren’t you?” Meredith had always been her father’s girl. She must have taken his passing hard.
Meredith nodded, staring absently down at her cup. “I still miss him. And my mother...well, she relies on me. So I’m still here.”
Something about her tone explained Meredith’s odd phrasing when she’d spoken of escaping Deer Run. She’d been talking about herself, not Rachel.
“Do you have a job here?” Jobs in Deer Run were few and far between, she’d think, it not being exactly a thriving metropolis.
“I’m an accountant. I have an office at the house, although sometimes I work on site at some of the small businesses I deal with.” Meredith’s voice was carefully expressionless, but Rachel suspected she knew whose idea it was that Meredith’s office should be at home, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. Mrs. King had always been the clinging sort.
Fortunately, Meredith didn’t seem to expect a response. She was watching Mandy again, amusement in her gaze. “Is she as imaginative as we were at that age?”
“I guess so. Although I don’t think she could possibly be as imaginative as we were that summer we were ten.” Rachel smiled, too, remembering.
“That was mainly Lainey Colton’s fault,” Meredith said. “She was the only kid I ever met who could create a fantasy world as real as that one was. We basically lived in Lainey’s world that whole summer.”
“Knights and fairies and dragons...trust me, that’s not the usual imaginative fare for Amish children. Maybe that was why it enthralled me so much.”
And it was equally unusual for an Amish child to spend so much time with two Englisch friends, but Mamm had been preoccupied in helping to care for Aunt Hannah, who’d been ordered bed rest during a difficult pregnancy, and she’d just been happy to have her children out from underfoot. Besides, Mamm had considered she had a duty to Lainey’s Amish great-aunt to provide a suitable companion for her visitor.
“It seems strange now, not seeing Lainey at all since that summer,” Meredith said. “We wrote for a while after she moved back with her mother, but then we lost touch.”
Rachel nodded. “The same with me. That whole summer was just...different.”
“Different,” Meredith echoed. “Remember how Lainey insisted Aaron Mast was an enchanted prince? And we followed him around for weeks, looking for a way to break the spell?”
“I remember.” Aaron Mast, with his golden hair, even features, kind blue eyes—he’d been the perfect Prince Charming for three imaginative young girls. He’d probably never known, from the lofty heights of his eighteen years, how they’d felt about him.
Rachel drew in a long breath and blew it out in something that was almost a sigh. She hadn’t thought of Aaron in years, and now he’d come up twice in two days.
“And then he drowned.” Meredith shook her head. “When I look back at it, it seems to me the summer ended then. Our prince was dead, the parents clamped down on where we were as if we might fall into the dam as well and Lainey was sent back to her mother. The magic was over.”
Over and forgotten, Rachel thought. And there was no reason at all for the odd foreboding at the back of her mind.
* * *
COLIN GLANCED INTO the window of Millers’ store and stopped dead. Duke, strolling at his side, gave him a reproachful look and then sat down, leaning heavily against his leg.
Rachel Mason and Meredith King sat at one of the small round tables, heads together, talking. Something teased at his memory—an image of them as little girls, busily building a tree house in the massive oak tree in the side yard of the King house. It looked as if Rachel had found an old friend.
They were getting up now, obviously saying goodbye. With a sudden decision, he moved to the door and stood waiting for Rachel to come out.
She and Mandy emerged a few minutes later. Rachel’s eyes narrowed a bit at the sight of him, but all of Mandy’s attention was for Duke.
“What a nice dog. Is he yours? What’s his name? Can I pet him?” Mandy pelted him with questions, not bothering with pleasantries.
“Yes. Duke. And yes, he’d like to be petted,” he said, smiling at the child’s enthusiasm.
“Nice dog,” Mandy crooned, dropping to her knees beside the dog and stroking his glossy black fur. “You’re such a good boy, Duke.”
Duke, a sucker for compliments, obliged with a gentle nuzzling of Mandy’s neck.
“Look, Mommy, he likes me.” Mandy shot a glance at her mother. “See, I’m really good with dogs. If I had a puppy—”
“We’ll talk about it later.” Rachel sounded as if that conversation was one they’d already had several times. “Say goodbye to Duke now. We need to get home.” She shifted a bag of groceries to her other arm to reach for her daughter’s hand.
He forestalled her by giving Mandy the leash. “We’ll walk along with you, and you can lead Duke. He needs a walk.”
“Can I really? Wow, thank you.” The warmth in Mandy’s little face made her response more than just the polite words of a well-brought-up child.
“Sure. And I’ll carry your mom’s package.” He reached for Rachel’s bag. She pulled away from him, but he didn’t drop his hand. “Come on, now,” he said softly. “You know perfectly well I can’t walk you home with you carrying the groceries and my hands free. What would people think of me?”
“You don’t need to be walking me...us...home at all.” Rachel’s pointed chin set stubbornly.
“Sure I do.” He nodded to Mandy, already ten yards ahead of them on the sidewalk. “Mandy has my dog.”
“You know perfectly well—” She stopped, maybe realizing how silly it sounded. “Oh, all right.” She surrendered the bag. “If you must.”
Satisfied, he fell into step with her. “You know, I’ll start thinking you don’t like me if you keep going on this way.”
“I—” She stopped, seeming to change her mind about what she was going to say. “I wouldn’t want people to start talking. That’s all.”
“Because I walked beside you and carried your groceries?” He raised an eyebrow. “We’re not ten, and I’m not carrying your books home from school.”
The warm peach of her skin seemed to deepen. “No. But you know how people talk in Deer Run. You just said it yourself, remember?”
“True.” He could hardly deny it. “But you can’t stop meeting old friends because of what people might say. I saw you and Meredith getting reacquainted,” he added quickly, before she could remind him that they’d never exactly been friends.
“It was nice to see Meredith again.” She took the diversion with a slight frown. “I was a little surprised she’s still living at home.”
