The Forgiven by Marta Perry

made any effort to find the boy? If so, he’d certain-sure never talked about it.
    Sooner or later Isaiah would come to his senses. That made it all the more important that Matt get his shop set up as quickly as possible. He could only hope that Rebecca, too, had come to see the sense of his proposal. If not, he’d have to look elsewhere, and he found himself oddly reluctant to do so.
    Renting the unused stable wasn’t just the best solution for him, being well suited to his needs and only a few miles from his uncle’s property. It surely was the best solution for Rebecca, as well. She couldn’t be finding it easy, even with her family’s help, raising two children on her own.
    A small farm like Rebecca’s was common among the Amish, and most families eked out their income with an assortment of other efforts, like a fruit stand or a quilt shop or a part-time job. That allowed the family to work together most of the time, something that was prized among the Amish, even if it was possible for the father to earn more by working at a full-time job away from home.
    Matt felt wry amusement at the idea. His time in the Englisch world had convinced him the Amish ideal ran exactly counter to the modern American dream.
    A few minutes later he was turning in the lane at Rebecca’s. In just the last couple of days, the ridge above the house had put on its spring coat of pale green leaves, their lightness a contrast to the deep green-black of the pines and hemlocks. On the lower stretches he could see the patches of pinkish white that marked the mountain laurel coming into bloom.
    Insensibly, his heart lifted at the sight. Spring was a time for new beginnings. Why shouldn’t it be a new beginning for him?
    Mindful of what Rebecca had said about her son seeing him at the stable and thinking he was his father, Matt drove up to the house and stopped at the hitching rail by the back door. Country people always came to the back of a house, not the front. He’d never found that strange until he’d lived a bit in the city.
    Sliding down, he gave the mare a pat as he fastened the line to the rail. Even as he turned toward the house, the back door opened and a small figure shot out.
    The boy skidded to a halt as he realized the visitor was a stranger. This must be Joshua. Had Rebecca mentioned the boy’s age? He didn’t remember, but Joshua looked about five or six. Round blue eyes stared warily at Matt from beneath the brim of a straw hat. Joshua wore the typical blue shirt, black pants and suspenders of most Amish boys, and under the hat his hair was as pale and soft as corn silk.
    â€œYou must be Joshua.” Matt squatted, bringing his face to the child’s level. “My name is Matthew.”
    Joshua’s only response was a slight nod, and he took a small step back, as if not comfortable so close to a stranger.
    It was probably better not to push the boy for conversation he so clearly didn’t want. “Is your mammi here?”
    That got a more decided nod. Joshua turned, maybe intending to go after his mother. But the door opened just then and Rebecca emerged onto the porch. Joshua indicated him with a wave of his hand.
    Matt rose to his feet, feeling a little foolish given the boy’s lack of response. “Rebecca.” He nodded to her, trying to gauge her expression. “I was just getting acquainted with Joshua.”
    The boy, as if released by the sound of his name, darted off across the yard. At first Matt thought he was headed for the stable, but instead he veered toward the apple tree behind it and swarmed up, his small figure vanishing into the cloud of blossoms.
    â€œI didn’t mean to scare him.” Matt turned back to Rebecca in time to see her staring after her son. The look of maternal love on her face was so powerful it unsettled him. There was a fierceness about it that didn’t match his image of a shy, serene Rebecca.
    The disturbing