Sarah put a hand on the nearest table to steady herself, her heart beating so loudly she could hear it in her ears. Allison glanced at her and moved closer.
“Aaron’s all right, then?” Allison said, obviously seeing more in Sarah’s face than either of the men did.
“Burned his arm, that’s all.” Nick shook his head. “He wouldn’t have, if we had some decent protective gear. We’re using stuff we bought secondhand way too many years ago.”
He’s all right, Sarah repeated to herself. And he certain sure wouldn’t want anyone fussing over him. Besides, she didn’t have the right.
“That’s terrible.” Allison’s tone was sharp. “You’re going out risking your lives for the community. The least Laurel Ridge can do is provide the equipment you need to stay safe.”
Nick shrugged, obviously used to the situation. “Laurel Ridge is a small town, and this isn’t an affluent area. The fire company got a nice amount from the spring festival, but between repairs to the truck and replacing some equipment, it doesn’t stretch very far.”
Mac interrupted the argument that was obviously hovering on Allison’s tongue. “Listen, I have to get moving, and I still haven’t told Sarah why I came over this morning. Too many distractions.” He looked meaningfully at his brother.
“Right, okay. You need to talk to Sarah. We’ll be quiet.” Nick touched Allison’s arm lightly.
“What is it?” Sarah felt a flicker of concern.
“Nothing scary.” Mac smiled. “I expect the fire marshal to show up this afternoon. You’re one of the people he’ll want to interview, so I thought I’d give you a head’s-up in case I’m not with him.”
Sarah clasped her hands together. “Why does he want to see me? I can’t tell him anything.” And despite dealing with Englischers daily in the shop, she wasn’t comfortable with the thought of this unknown official. She’d conquered her shyness a long time ago with her own people, but outsiders were different.
“That’s how they work. He’ll talk to everyone I interviewed about the fires. Nothing to worry about. Just answer his questions the best you can, okay?”
She nodded, feeling tension in her neck as she did. “If you say so.”
“Good. I’ll come with him if I can, but he may want to interview people without me.” Apparently having fulfilled his purpose, Mac headed for the door. “I have to get back to work. I’ll see you later.”
The door closed behind him.
“Now can I talk?” Allison’s words rushed out. “We really have to think of something we can do. Both for that poor family and for the firefighters.”
“You don’t need to worry about the Stoltzfus family,” Sarah said. “Everyone is rallying around to help—lending equipment and replacing that first cutting of hay they lost. The men are already planning a barn raising.” Seeing that Allison looked doubtful, she smiled. “Really. We’ve done this before, you know. I’m not saying it isn’t a blow for Ben and Miriam, but you’ll be surprised at how quickly the barn will be replaced.”
“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