Colin’s eyes narrowed. Rachel had been wrong about one other thing. Benj wasn’t in the kitchen having lemonade. From where he stood now, Colin could see the boy slipping toward one of the dilapidated outbuildings behind the main house. Sneaking was actually the word that came to mind. Benj glanced around, the movement furtive, before disappearing into what had once been a stable.
What was the kid up to? He knew Benj pretty well, or as well as an Englischer was likely to know an Amish kid. The boy had been doing yard work for him for over a year. He’d have said Benj Weaver was the last person to have something to hide. It appeared he’d have been wrong.
Making a quick decision, Colin started across the lawn, skirting the willow tree. Benj hadn’t come out yet. What could he find to interest him in the old stable? Maybe Rachel had asked the boy to check it out for some reason, in which case Colin was going to look like an interfering busybody.
He neared the stable and glanced toward the house, half-expecting to see Rachel’s face at one of the windows, looking at him disapprovingly. But there was no sign of her. The stable door hung open, sagging on its hinges. Not touching it, he leaned over to look inside.
The interior had become the repository for everything that wasn’t wanted in the main house—lumber piles, a couple of old bicycles, a massive chest of drawers, a miscellaneous collection of discarded furniture. A narrow passageway, almost roofed over with boxes, made its way through the chaos. Benj was on his knees, head poked into the opening.
“Looks like a good place to hide,” Colin said, keeping his voice casual.
Benj jerked, banging his head on a crate. He edged out, rubbing his head, and sat back on his heels, eyeing Colin warily.
“I guess you could keep Mandy busy playing hide-and-seek out here,” he suggested.
Benj’s face cleared. “Ja. It would be a gut hideout.”
“Better be careful, though. Probably plenty of rusty nails mixed in with this junk. You don’t want her to have to get a tetanus shot.”
“I...I’ll be careful.” Benj swallowed, the muscles of his neck working, and shot another furtive glance around.
Colin leaned an elbow on the nearest crate and immediately regretted it. He’d have to change his shirt before he headed back to the office.
“I haven’t seen you for a while, Benj. What have you been up to lately?”
There was no mistaking the flash of fear in the boy’s face before he ducked his head. “Not much.” He shrugged. “Helping Rachel is all.”
Colin studied him thoughtfully. Something was clearly wrong, but like most adolescent males, Benj wasn’t about to turn to a grown-up for help. Colin remembered that stage only too well. Still, how much trouble could an Amish kid get into in a place like Deer Run?
“Well, if you’re helping your sister, maybe you’d better get back at it,” he said.
Benj gave a quick nod, hopped to his feet and darted out the door without another word.
Colin watched him run across the lawn, then turned and glanced at the small opening in the piles of junk. He might, if he had to, be able to worm his way through there, but not today.
He stepped back out into the June sunshine, frowning thoughtfully at the back of the house. Whatever it was Benj thought he needed a hideout for, Colin doubted that it was an innocent game of hide-and-seek. But what on earth could a kid like Benjamin have to hide? And what was causing that spark of fear in his eyes?
CHAPTER TWO
BY MIDAFTERNOON, the early enthusiasm Mandy had shown for painting had predictably waned. Benj was quite willing to keep on working, but Rachel decided they’d all had enough for one day. The entrance hall painting was finished, and the prospect of starting another room seemed too daunting.
“Why don’t you show Mandy the outbuildings?” she suggested. “She’s wanted to explore, and I haven’t had time to go with her.”
“Sure thing.” Benj wiped his hands on the edge of the old sheet she’d used to cover the marble-topped stand in the hall. He grinned at Mandy. “Komm, schnell. You remember what that means?”
“Come quick,” Mandy said promptly. “Bet I can beat you to the back door.” She darted toward the kitchen, with Benj letting her get a head start.
It was a relief to see her little brother acting normally again. “Denke, Benj. I know I can count on you to keep Mandy from trying anything too daring.”
A shadow crossed his face at what had surely been an innocent remark. Then he nodded, smiled and chased after Mandy.
Rachel frowned after him for a moment before going into the powder room that had taken the place of a large closet once Amanda Mason had decided she didn’t care to go up and down the stairs too often. A quick washing got rid of most of the paint stains, but the face that stared back at Rachel from the mirror still wore the worried frown that had become almost a permanent fixture in recent months.
She forced a smile, trying to counteract the effect. With her hair pulled back from a center part and the lack of makeup, she looked...well, not like the Amish girl who had run away with Ronnie Mason. That girl had had rosy cheeks and stars in her eyes. With her hair pulled back and sans makeup, this was closer to the Amish woman she would have turned into had young love, in the shape of Ronnie, not intervened.
Splashing some cold water on her face, Rachel turned away from the mirror. Dwelling on the past was seldom a good idea, as Colin had said, and she’d been doing too much of that lately. She couldn’t build a future on what-ifs.
Besides, she had Mandy. Fierce maternal love surged through her. Mandy was worth any sacrifice. The doubts Colin had voiced were the ones that kept her up at night, but she couldn’t listen to them. She would make a success of her plans because Mandy’s security and happiness depended upon them.
The house seemed empty with Benj and Mandy gone. She crossed the hallway and headed out the front door. She might as well check and see if any mail had found her at her new address yet.
The long porch across the front was one of the house’s beauties. In her mind’s eye, Rachel could see it the way she intended it to be, its gingerbread trim freshly painted, geraniums blooming in pots and hanging baskets, with comfortable rockers where her guests could relax.
She grasped the railing as she started down the steps, and it wobbled under her hand. Yet another thing she’d have to fix. She’d make up in hard work what she lacked in money.
The mailbox stood on a post next to the road, since Deer Run wasn’t big enough to warrant a mail carrier who walked from house to house. She pulled it open, finding an electric bill that had apparently chased her from the rental apartment in Philadelphia and what appeared to be a complimentary copy of the County Gazette, a weekly newspaper that was primarily composed of advertisements.
Holding it conjured up an image of Daadi reading through it, word by word, after he’d finished reading The Budget, the Amish newspaper that kept far-flung Amish communities in touch. She could see him so vividly, sitting in the wooden rocker next to the gas stove, his drugstore reading glasses sliding down his nose.
“Rachel? It is Rachel Weaver, isn’t it? I mean, Rachel Mason, of course.” The woman who’d hailed her hurried across the road after a cautious look in both directions.
Rachel waited, heart sinking. She’d been reasonably certain she could count on a call from Helen Blackwood, an elderly crony of her late mother-in-law, but she’d hoped to be a little better prepared for it. All the people in Deer Run she least wanted to see seemed determined to find her when she looked like a bag lady.
Not, she supposed, that Helen Blackwood would use those words. Having spent her entire life