“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 mild.
But Aaron knew his Sarah well enough to recognize the annoyance lurking in her eyes, and it surprised him. Obviously her caring extended well beyond her own family.
That shouldn’t be a surprise, he told himself. Sarah was a woman now, and those qualities of kindness and caring she’d shown as a child had grown with her.
“Yes, well... I think I know my cousin best.” Seizing the loaf of bread from Ella, the woman flounced off.
Sarah looked after her, worry lines forming between her brows. “Julia didn’t seem nearly that bad the last time I talked to her. If Donna is right...” She let that trail off and shook her head. “Maybe Allison and I should drop in on Julia. She’s wonderful fond of Allison because of her friendship with Allison’s grandmother.”
“Don’t look so worried. Maybe the woman is exaggerating.” Aaron brushed Sarah’s hand with his, wishing he knew how to remove the stress from her face. “You don’t have to take care of the whole world, you know.”
Her lips seemed to tremble for an instant, and then she pressed them together. “If someone needs help, I can’t pretend it’s not my concern,” she said.
No, he supposed she couldn’t. It wasn’t in Sarah’s nature to ignore her responsibility to a neighbor, no matter who that neighbor happened to be. And he wouldn’t want to change one thing about her. His little playmate had grown into an admirable woman, and that fact battled with a startling need to protect her from discomfort.
* * *
SARAH FOUND HER thoughts returning to Julia Everly that evening. Washing dishes while Grossmammi dried and Mamm put things away, she felt more than usually thankful for family. Grossmammi would never have to think of growing old alone. She’d live and die surrounded by those who loved her, unlike Julia Everly.
Julia had friends, of course, acquired over a long life, but her tart tongue had sometimes isolated her. And Donna Edwards, a several-times-removed cousin, was apparently her only family.
Mamm flicked the dish towel at her. “What has our Sarah so silent tonight?”
“Ach, I was just listening to the two of you.” Mamm and Grossmammi had been chatting away as they always did, and no one listening to the love flowing between them would think Grossmammi was Mamm’s mother-in-law, rather than her mother.
“You listen to us every day of your life,” Grossmammi said. “You are fretting. Is it about the fires?” She lowered her voice on the last word, as if hating to say it aloud.
“No, well, not at the moment, anyway. I was thinking about Julia Everly. I ran into Donna today, and she says that Julia’s memory is failing her. I thought Julia was fine when I talked to her, but Donna seemed convinced.”
Grossmammi listened to her account of Donna’s words, her gray head tilted to one side like a tiny snowbird. Never