Marta Perry - When Secrets Strike

“She’s right,” Nick added. “The Amish take care of their neighbors. It’s a lesson the rest of us could learn.”

“There’s still the problem of the fire company equipment.” Allison wore a crusading expression. “Maybe some sort of fund-raiser would work.”

Nick shrugged. “Maybe, but we just had the spring festival a couple of months ago. I’m not sure people would respond.” Seeing that Allison didn’t think much of his reaction, he added, “We ought to bounce some ideas around. I have to get back to work now, but I’ll think about it.”

“Do that.” Allison shot him a determined look. “I’ll talk to your mother. I’m sure she’ll agree that protective gear for the firefighters is crucial.”

Sarah hid a smile. Allison had gone straight for the bull’s-eye. Ellen Whiting wouldn’t be easily deterred if she thought her sons were in danger.

With a quick kiss for Allison, Nick left, heading down the hallway and to the detached workshop of Whiting and Whiting Cabinetry.

Chuckling, Sarah turned her attention to a box of fabric they hadn’t finished unpacking yesterday.

“What are you laughing about?” Allison joined her. “I’m right. We have to do something.”

“I know.” Sarah pulled out a bolt of cotton print in fall colors—orange, russet, gold and red. It might be July, but women who sewed would soon be looking ahead to the next season. “I’m just amused at how fast you figured out the Whiting family. Go to Jim for wise advice, but go to Ellen if you want something done.”

“It wasn’t hard.” Allison pulled out another bolt, and they worked in silence for a few minutes.

Sarah felt her partner’s gaze and knew she was going to speak. And guessed, too, the subject.

“You’re not worrying about Aaron, are you?” Allison was predictable. “I’m sure if the burn had been serious, the EMTs would have taken him to the hospital whether he wanted to go or not.”

“I... Was I very obvious? Did Nick or Mac notice?”

“I don’t think so.” Allison made a face. “When did you ever find a man who noticed emotional responses without being hit in the head by them?”

She had to smile at that. “I guess you’re right. It just startled me, that’s all.”

Allison’s gaze remained fixed on her face. “I don’t want to pry. I know you cared for him but he married someone else. If you’d like to talk about what happened between you and Aaron...”

Sarah shrugged. Pulling out another bolt of fabric, she held it against her, hands smoothing the chintz. “Nothing happened. Not really.”

She didn’t talk about Aaron, though it was certain sure that her family had long since guessed. But she and Allison had formed a solid bond in the few months they’d known each other, and the longing to speak about the thing she held so tightly in her heart was strong.

Allison waited.

“You know Aaron and I have been friends since we were kinder.” She smoothed her hand down the surface of the fabric again. “Friendship turned into love on my part. But not on his.”

“He seems to feel close to you,” Allison said. “Didn’t he ever give you any sign that he felt something warmer than friendship?”

Her fingers tightened on the bolt, and she avoided Allison’s eyes. “Once, maybe. When we were teens. He took me home from a singing, and I thought maybe that meant he was getting interested. But he never said anything. And then Mary Ann—”

“Mary Ann?” Allison queried. “Oh, right, the girl Aaron married.”

Sarah nodded. “She was so pretty and popular. Everyone wanted to be around her.”

“You mean all the boys,” Allison said.

“Well, you can understand it. She made a point of talking to me. She said that she really liked Aaron, and since he and I were such good friends, maybe I could give him a hint.”

“And you did?” There was so much outrage in Allison’s voice that Sarah stared at her. “Oh, Sarah. Why didn’t you let her know what you wanted? Or better yet, let Aaron know?”

“I couldn’t.”

Allison didn’t understand, but then, Allison hadn’t been brought up Amish. And she didn’t have a shy bone in her body, as far as Sarah could tell.

“It would have been impossible.” Sarah took a breath, trying to ease the tension that came with remembering. “So I told Aaron that Mary Ann was interested, and...well, it went just as Mary Ann wanted.”

Allison was silent for a few minutes, but Sarah could almost feel the thoughts teeming in her friend’s mind. They emptied the box and broke it down before she spoke.

“Aaron’s free now,” she pointed out. “Maybe it’s not too late. He’s still around. Still your friend.”

Sarah shook her head, busying herself with picking up the flattened box. “Exactly,” she said finally. “I’m a friend. He’s not likely to see me any differently now.”

“You have to give him a hint. A strong hint.” Allison leaned toward her, voice eager. “Remember what I said about men and emotions? Just start him thinking, and let nature take its course.”

“I can’t.” She put out a hand to stop Allison before she could bubble out with a list of suggestions. “Really, I can’t imagine doing it. I’m not outgoing and confident like you.”

Allison seemed to make an effort to restrain herself. “You should be. Confident, I mean. Look at all you’ve accomplished.” She waved a hand to encompass the shop and its contents—the fabrics, quilts, wall hangings, all products of women’s industry. “You might have been too shy to say what you wanted at sixteen or seventeen, but you’re a grown woman now, an accomplished businesswoman.”

Sarah’s heart was so heavy she put her hand over it, as if that would ease the weight. It shouldn’t still hurt after all this time.

“It’s true that I’d never have imagined myself actually making a success of my own business. And I’ve learned a lot along the way. But that hasn’t changed who I am inside.” She patted her chest. “In here, I’m still the same person.” She managed a smile. “Maybe it comes of being taught all my life to be humble. Whatever the reason, there are things I know I can never do, and telling Aaron how I feel about him is impossible.”

Allison pressed her lips together briefly, holding back with an obvious effort. “I won’t argue. But I do believe you’re capable of a lot more than you’ve ever thought.”

Sarah just shook her head. Allison meant well. But Sarah knew herself. To speak out—to claim what she wanted—the very thought made her stomach twist. She would have to be content with being Aaron’s friend, because she’d never have anything more.

* * *

THE STOREROOM AT the rear of Blackburn House was theoretically for the use of all the residents, but in actual fact, only the quilt shop and bookstore staff made much use of it. Sarah stacked a box on one of the metal shelves, making sure the contents were marked on the side facing front. She’d hate to become like the former bookstore owner, who’d had such a scrambled method of storing things that he’d never known what he had.

The poor man was gone now, and Emily, the new owner, was far more organized, if a bit dithery when things upset her. Sarah and Allison had become used to calming Emily down whenever business threatened to overwhelm her.

Sarah made a quick survey of their storage section, just to be sure nothing had been neglected. It wasn’t too early to start thinking about Christmas fabrics, as the crafters in Laurel Ridge would soon start working on Christmas gifts and items for the various bazaars and craft shows.

Satisfied that all was in order, she stepped out of the storage room, keys in her hand, her thoughts still occupied with possible orders, and nearly bumped into Harvey Preston, who had the real estate agency on the second floor.