wood-planked floor in her favorite fuzzy white slippers and struck a match to a second, larger candle. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Claire peered over the top of the couch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. My kidneys did.” Diane extinguished the match with a quick shake and then blew on it for good measure. “I noticed the light when I stepped into the hall.”
Claire watched as the light from the new candle joined with the first in its ceiling dance. “I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d read a little bit until my eyes got tired.”
Diane’s gaze shot to the unopened book on Claire’s stomach. “Oh?”
“It didn’t work.”
“I can see that.” Diane crossed to the couch, stopping at Claire’s outstretched feet. “Would a snack work? I think there are some cookies left, and I’d be happy to put on a pot of tea if you’d like.”
Swinging her legs onto the floor, Claire patted the empty sofa cushion to her right. “Could we just talk awhile, instead?”
A smile lit the corners of the woman’s otherwise tired eyes. “Of course.” With a tug of her bathrobe’s sash, Diane sat down and guided Claire’s sock-clad feet onto her lap. “So what’s troubling you, dear?”
“How do you know something’s wrong?” she asked.
“Because you’re not smiling.”
She inhaled deeply as her aunt’s hands began to massage the tops of her feet, the rhythmic motion more than a little comforting. “C’mon. I don’t
always
smile.”
“Since you moved here, you do.”
She couldn’t really argue the point. Moving in with Diane, opening her very own shop, getting back to the basics of life … It was everything she’d ever wanted even if she hadn’t realized it until it happened.
“I love it here.” It was a simple statement yet no less accurate. “It suits me.”
Diane nodded, her gaze never leaving Claire’s. “So then what has you so down in the mouth?”
“Because I don’t like seeing bad things happen, and I don’t like seeing good people hurt.”
“Where is this coming from?” her aunt asked, pausing her hand on Claire’s feet. “Who’s being hurt?”
“Being hurt, hurting … It’s all the same thing.” She knew she was being vague, but she couldn’t help it. Her mouth was having difficulty keeping up with her thoughts.
Diane rested her hand on Claire’s calf. “You’ve lost me, dear.”
She tried again, this time doing a better job of filling in the gaps. “First, there’s the whole Walter Snow murder thing. His wife is convinced Eli Miller is behind it all.”
Diane brought her hand to her face, her eyes wide. “Eli?”
“Eli,” she confirmed. “She even pointed to a drunk-and-disorderlyarrest he had a few months ago as proof that he has it in him to stray from Amish life.”
Shaking her head, Diane wiggled out from underneath Claire’s feet and stood. “Does Benjamin know?”
“He does now.”
Diane paced across the floor and back. “Al Gussman took care of Eli and got him out of jail. It was all fine.”
“Wait. You knew about that?”
“I did. Al called me, and I met him at the station.”
Claire sat up and scooted toward the edge of the couch. “Why didn’t you just tell Eli’s brother? Or his parents?”
Diane stopped midstep and stared at Claire. “Do you realize the shunning that young man would have endured if his family had known of his drinking and his fighting? We couldn’t let that happen. Especially in light of the fact he was defending them.”
“Defending them?”
“Well, the Amish, anyway.”
She played with a loose thread on the knee of her pajama pants and considered her aunt’s account of the event Esther had been reluctant to share out of loyalty to Eli. “And that wouldn’t have made a difference to Benjamin or the rest of the family?”
“Fighting is never condoned by the Amish. Under any circumstances.”
“Well, Mrs. Snow found out about that somehow, and she’s
Claire peered over the top of the couch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. My kidneys did.” Diane extinguished the match with a quick shake and then blew on it for good measure. “I noticed the light when I stepped into the hall.”
Claire watched as the light from the new candle joined with the first in its ceiling dance. “I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d read a little bit until my eyes got tired.”
Diane’s gaze shot to the unopened book on Claire’s stomach. “Oh?”
“It didn’t work.”
“I can see that.” Diane crossed to the couch, stopping at Claire’s outstretched feet. “Would a snack work? I think there are some cookies left, and I’d be happy to put on a pot of tea if you’d like.”
Swinging her legs onto the floor, Claire patted the empty sofa cushion to her right. “Could we just talk awhile, instead?”
A smile lit the corners of the woman’s otherwise tired eyes. “Of course.” With a tug of her bathrobe’s sash, Diane sat down and guided Claire’s sock-clad feet onto her lap. “So what’s troubling you, dear?”
“How do you know something’s wrong?” she asked.
“Because you’re not smiling.”
She inhaled deeply as her aunt’s hands began to massage the tops of her feet, the rhythmic motion more than a little comforting. “C’mon. I don’t
always
smile.”
“Since you moved here, you do.”
She couldn’t really argue the point. Moving in with Diane, opening her very own shop, getting back to the basics of life … It was everything she’d ever wanted even if she hadn’t realized it until it happened.
“I love it here.” It was a simple statement yet no less accurate. “It suits me.”
Diane nodded, her gaze never leaving Claire’s. “So then what has you so down in the mouth?”
“Because I don’t like seeing bad things happen, and I don’t like seeing good people hurt.”
“Where is this coming from?” her aunt asked, pausing her hand on Claire’s feet. “Who’s being hurt?”
“Being hurt, hurting … It’s all the same thing.” She knew she was being vague, but she couldn’t help it. Her mouth was having difficulty keeping up with her thoughts.
Diane rested her hand on Claire’s calf. “You’ve lost me, dear.”
She tried again, this time doing a better job of filling in the gaps. “First, there’s the whole Walter Snow murder thing. His wife is convinced Eli Miller is behind it all.”
Diane brought her hand to her face, her eyes wide. “Eli?”
“Eli,” she confirmed. “She even pointed to a drunk-and-disorderlyarrest he had a few months ago as proof that he has it in him to stray from Amish life.”
Shaking her head, Diane wiggled out from underneath Claire’s feet and stood. “Does Benjamin know?”
“He does now.”
Diane paced across the floor and back. “Al Gussman took care of Eli and got him out of jail. It was all fine.”
“Wait. You knew about that?”
“I did. Al called me, and I met him at the station.”
Claire sat up and scooted toward the edge of the couch. “Why didn’t you just tell Eli’s brother? Or his parents?”
Diane stopped midstep and stared at Claire. “Do you realize the shunning that young man would have endured if his family had known of his drinking and his fighting? We couldn’t let that happen. Especially in light of the fact he was defending them.”
“Defending them?”
“Well, the Amish, anyway.”
She played with a loose thread on the knee of her pajama pants and considered her aunt’s account of the event Esther had been reluctant to share out of loyalty to Eli. “And that wouldn’t have made a difference to Benjamin or the rest of the family?”
“Fighting is never condoned by the Amish. Under any circumstances.”
“Well, Mrs. Snow found out about that somehow, and she’s
Similar Books
