Abandon the Dark. Marta Perry

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      “Aunt Rebecca tried to teach me to quilt when I was here.” The memory slipped into her mind, making her smile. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very good at sitting still, but I did love arranging the blocks.”

      “A nine-patch, was it?” Katie asked. “She taught me, and that’s the first one I made.”

      Lainey nodded. They’d gone in the buggy to a shop outside town where a pair of Amish sisters ran a quilting business. If you needed anything for quilting, Aunt Rebecca had said, that’s where you went.

      “Lorena and Lovina,” she said abruptly as the names came back to her.

      “Ach, imagine you remembering them,” Katie said. “Aunt Rebecca got all her fabric from them. She still does, though I think she must have enough for a dozen quilts in the chest in the back bedroom.”

      “I was fascinated by the rows of fabric. The colors...it was like being in the middle of a rainbow.” She’d run from one to another, unable to make up her mind.

      Katie nodded as if she understood. Then, without a word, she put the row of fabric pieces she’d been pinning into Lainey’s lap and handed her a needle.

      Lainey blinked. “You want me to work on your granddaughter’s quilt? But I’m not good enough.”

      “If Rebecca taught you, you know enough,” Katie 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.”

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