The Forgiven Read Free Page B

by the blunt question, but answered readily enough. “I’m looking for a building I can use for my furniture business. Onkel Silas told me about the stable and how Paul was going to . . .” He let that trail off. “Anyway, he said you weren’t using the stable and might be willing to lease it to me.”
    Everything in Rebecca recoiled at the thought of putting another person’s business in Paul’s stable. “No.” Her tone was sharper than she intended. “I’m sorry. It’s not available.”
    Matt’s eyebrows lifted. “It’s standing empty. I can pay you five hundred a month for the space.”
    â€œIt’s not available,” she said again, annoyed at him for putting her in this position and unable to keep from thinking about what she could do with an extra five hundred dollars a month.
    Matt studied her face, his eyes intent and questioning. “You don’t like the idea of turning Paul’s stable over to someone else. I can understand that. But you have two little ones to raise. Can you afford to have it sitting empty when it could be earning money for Paul’s kinder?”
    The fact that Matt was probably right didn’t make Rebecca feel any more kindly toward him. “I don’t think that’s your concern.”
    â€œMaybe not. But it is yours, Rebecca.” He held her gaze for a moment longer, and she felt as if he was looking right into all her grief and uncertainty. Then he took a step back. “I wouldn’t do any harm to the place, Rebecca. Think about it.”
    Matt turned and walked away. He was silhouetted in the doorway for a moment, and then he was gone, leaving Rebecca unsettled and upset.
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    Matthew’s somber mood stayed with him as he headed back to his uncle’s place. The road was obviously familiar to the buggy horse, probably more so than to him. It had been thirteen years since he’d left Brook Hill.
    Not all that much had changed, from what he could see—things didn’t, not in this quiet part of central Pennsylvania. The Amish of Lancaster County referred to this area as the valleys, and small groups had begun moving here as early as the sixties, propelled by the increasing cost of farmland back in the Lancaster community.
    Matt hadn’t expected it to be easy, coming back to the place where he was born, but he hadn’t expected a challenge from so unlikely a source as little Becky Lapp. Rebecca Fisher, he corrected himself, clucking to the mare when her pace slowed.
    It was hardly surprising that Becky had married Paul Fisher, was it? Matt found he was smiling to himself, remembering a small girl racing after a slightly taller boy, her apron fluttering.
    Rebecca wasn’t a child any longer. Her hair, once the color of corn silk, had become a light brown, but her sea-green eyes still surveyed a person with quiet gravity. Her oval face contained more than a hint of the loss she’d experienced. Her eyes were shadowed with remembered grief, and she’d held her shoulders stiffly, as if reminding herself to face up to whatever might be coming next.
    He frowned. Why hadn’t she accepted his offer? It would make things so simple, and Onkel Silas seemed convinced Rebecca needed the money.
    Had she refused because she couldn’t bear to see another use made of the stable than had been intended for Paul’s dreams? Or was it because the offer had come from Matthew Byler, the troublemaker, the unreliable person who shouldn’t be trusted?
    Self-pity wasn’t very admirable, he told himself with a flash of wry humor. No matter how enjoyable it might be.
    The fact that Rebecca had turned him down might mean nothing more than that his timing was bad. He’d give her a day or two to think it over before he started scouting around for another place. Luckily he’d managed to squirrel away a nice little nest egg