style="font-size:15px;"> “So that means someone started it.” Allison considered the idea for a moment. “Well, we’ve suspected it all along, so I’m not exactly shocked.”
“It means more than that,” Sarah said, her voice dragging as she saw the implications. “It means that the fire had been started a short time before I saw the smoke. So when I reached the barn, the arsonist couldn’t have been far away.”
“You didn’t see anyone? No, of course not, or you’d have said.” Allison answered her own question.
“Not a glimpse.”
Sarah had a sudden image in her mind of a faceless figure lurking in the woods, watching her run toward the barn, and her stomach turned over. He’d been there, whoever he was. He could have seen her, and she’d never known it.
* * *
“CAN WE GET any treat we want?” Lena tilted her head to one side and gazed up at Aaron as they entered the sunny interior of the coffee shop across the street from Blackburn House late in the afternoon. “A doughnut would make my arm feel better.”
Anna gave her little sister a skeptical look. “Shots don’t hurt after they’re over,” she pointed out.
“Lena was a brave girl when the doctor gave her the shots,” Aaron said peacefully. “And you were very patient to wait. So you each get a treat, so long as you promise to eat your supper when you get home.”
“I promise, Daadi,” Anna said quickly, and Lena nodded vigorously.
Ella, the cheerful Amish widow who ran the restaurant, came to the counter as they approached. “My, look at these two big girls. What brings you to town today?”
“I got my shots so I can go to school this year,” Lena announced. “And we get to have a treat.”
“That is a special event,” Ella said. “It deserves a special treat. What will you have?”
While the girls pondered, pressing their faces against the glass case to debate the merits of crullers and peanut butter doughnuts, Ella glanced at him. Her perpetually flushed face was concerned.
“Have you heard? The man from the state police is in Laurel Ridge to look into the fires. And none too soon, I’d say. The damage—”
Aaron shook his head, glancing at the girls. They’d had enough trauma in their young lives with losing their mother. He didn’t want them losing sleep fearing a fire.
Ella, stricken, snapped her lips closed and seemed to be trying to think of something else to say. He saw that Anna was watching her, apprehension lurking in her blue eyes.
“Anna and Lena. How nice to see you today.” The door closed behind Sarah, and she advanced on his daughters, smiling. “What are you doing in town?”
Lena, distracted, began to repeat the story of her injections. She even insisted on pushing her sleeve up so Sarah could see her bandage.
“You’ll be all ready for school, won’t you? And you’re so lucky.” She reached out a hand to draw Anna closer. “Because your sister is going into third grade already, and she knows everything there is to know about first grade. She can tell you all about it, ain’t so, Anna?”
Anna brightened, clasping Sarah’s hand. “Ja, that’s right.”
Aaron watched, smiling a little. What a shame it was that Sarah had never married. She’d certain sure have made a good mother, seeming to understand his kinder by instinct. He’d never pictured Sarah, of all people, being a maidal. But when he thought about who she might have married, the question stymied him. Was there anyone he’d have thought good enough for his friend?
Still chatting to them about school, Sarah got the girls settled at a table, and Ella brought them their doughnuts.
“Ach, I’m sorry,” the widow said softly, when both women came back to the counter. “I wasn’t thinking, that’s for sure. You don’t want the little ones worrying about somebody starting fires.”
“No harm done,” Aaron said. “Sarah distracted them.” He smiled at her. “What brings you to Ella’s? A late lunch?”
Sarah shook her head. “Ella has promised me a quilt her great-aunt made—for our display. So I came to pick it up and save her a trip.”
“I have it here for you.” Ella dived behind the counter and emerged with a quilt wrapped loosely in paper. “It ought to have the binding mended or even replaced, but I’m too busy in the shop to find the time.”
“It’s lovely,” Sarah said, turning back the paper to reveal a Log Cabin design, its deep colors faded to a mellow tone. “We’re happy to have it to show.” She held it so he could see.
But Aaron wasn’t especially interested in quilts, at least not at the moment. “I heard the state police fire marshal talked to you already.”
She nodded, a shadow coming over her face. He saw her glance at his arm, obviously knowing he’d been burned, but his sleeve covered it. “I guess he’s going to talk to everyone who was at the fires. He seemed convinced, I thought, that the one I saw had been deliberately started.”
“I’m not surprised. We’d figured it out already. I just hope he can find the person who’s doing it before it gets any worse.”
Sarah clutched the quilt against her, as if for comfort. “It’s terrible, wondering who it could be.”
Aaron wanted to reassure her, to say that nothing bad would happen. But how could he? None of them knew that for sure.
“We’re keeping watch,” he said, fearing it wasn’t enough. If someone was out there looking for a chance to set a fire, he’d find one.
The bell on the door jingled as a customer entered, and he recognized that cousin of Mrs. Everly’s. She hurried to the counter, and he stepped politely out of her way as she nodded at Sarah and set an oversize purse on the counter.
“A loaf of cinnamon raisin bread for my cousin,” she said to Ella. “She says she’s hungry for it.”
“Right away.” Ella beamed, happy to have her baking expertise noticed.
“How is Julia today, Donna?” Sarah asked.
“Not as good as she thinks.” The woman shook her head, pressing her thin lips together. “Like this cinnamon loaf. By the time I take it to her, she’ll have forgotten she asked for it. I’m telling you, she gets more and more confused every day. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.”
Sarah’s gentle face seemed to tighten. “I didn’t find her confused when I visited her,” she said.
“Yes, but you’re not there every day, like I am,” the woman said quickly. “You don’t know. And much as I hate to say it, having visitors just makes her worse. Anything out of the ordinary is upsetting. All I can do is keep her as quiet as possible. People should be more understanding.”
“Julia always enjoys chatting when I come by.” Sarah said the words carefully, keeping her tone
