“Katie’s not capable of murder.”

She took the bundle from his arms and vigorously halved it into a bulky square. “Apparently, you’re wrong.”

“I know her, Ellie. She’s my client.”

“Yeah, and my roommate. Go figure.”

Coop reached for the clothespins securing the second quilt. “How did she do it?”

“I didn’t ask.”

This surprised Coop. “You didn’t?”

Ellie’s fingers trailed over her abdomen. “I couldn’t,” she said, then briskly turned away.

In that moment, Coop wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms. “The only explanation is that she’s lying.”

“Haven’t you been listening to me in court?” Ellie’s lips twisted. “The Amish don’t lie.”

Coop ignored her. “She’s lying in order to be punished. For whatever reason, that’s what she needs psychologically.”

“Sure, if you call life in prison therapeutic.” Ellie jerked up the opposite end of the fabric. “She’s not lying, Coop. I’ve probably seen as many liars as you have, in my line of work. Katie looked me in the eye and she told me she killed her baby. She meant it.” With abrupt movements, she yanked the quilt from Coop and folded it again, then slapped it on top of the first one. “Katie Fisher is going down, and she’s taking the rest of us with her.”

“If she’s signed the disclaimer, you can’t be held responsible.”

“Oh, no, of course not. It’s just my name and my accountability being trashed along with her case.”

“No matter what her reasoning, I doubt very much that Katie’s doing this right now in order to spite you.”

“It doesn’t matter why, Coop. She’s going to get up there and make a public confession, and the jury won’t give a damn about the rationale behind it. They’ll convict her quicker than she can say ‘I did it.’”

“Are you angry because she’s ruining your case, or because you didn’t see this coming?”

“I’m not angry. If she wants to throw her life away, it’s no skin off my back.” Ellie grabbed for the quilt that Coop was holding but fumbled, so that it landed in a heap in the dirt. “Dammit! Do you know how long it takes to wash these things? Do you?” She sank to the ground, the quilt a cloud behind her, and buried her face in her hands.

Coop wondered how a woman so willow-thin and delicate could bear the weight of someone else’s salvation on her shoulders. He sat beside Ellie and gathered her close, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. “I could have saved her,” she whispered.

“I know, sweetheart. But maybe she wanted to save herself.”

“Hell of a way to go about it.”

“You’re thinking like a lawyer again.” Coop tapped her temple. “If you’re afraid of everyone leaving you, what do you do?”

“Make them stay.”

“And if you can’t do that, or don’t know how to?”

Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. In fact, you’ve done it. You leave first,” Coop said, “so you don’t have to watch them walk away.”

When Katie was little, she used to love when it rained, when she could skip out to the end of the driveway where the puddles, with their faint sheen of oil, turned into rainbows. The sky looked like that now, a royal purple marbled with orange and red and silver, like the gown of a fairytale queen. It settled over all these Plain folks’ farms; each piece of land butting up against something lush and rich that seemed to go on forever.

She stood on the porch in the twilight, waiting. When the hum of a car’s engine came from the west, she felt her heart creep up her throat, felt every muscle in her body strain forward to see if the vehicle would turn up the driveway. But seconds later, through the trees, the taillights ribboned by.

“He isn’t coming.”

Katie whirled at the sound of the voice, followed by the heavy thumps of boots on the porch steps. “Who?”

Samuel swallowed. “Ach, Katie. Are you gonna make me say his name, too?”

Katie rubbed her hands up and down her arms and faced the road again.

“He went into Philadelphia. He’ll be back tomorrow, for the trial.”

“You came to tell me this?”

“No,” Samuel answered. “I came to take you for a walk.”

She lowered her gaze. “I don’t figure I’d be very good company right now.”

He shrugged when Katie didn’t answer. “Well, I’m going, anyway,” Samuel said, and started down from the porch.

“Wait!” Katie cried, and she hurried to fall into step beside him.

They walked to a symphony of wind racing through trees and birds lighting on branches, of owls calling to mice and dew silvering the webs of spiders. Samuel’s long strides made Katie nearly run to keep up. “Where are we going?” she asked after several minutes, when they had just reached the small grove of apple trees.

He stopped abruptly and looked around. “I have no idea.”

That made Katie grin, and Samuel smiled too, and then they were both laughing. Samuel sat, bracing his elbows on his knees, and Katie sank down beside him, her skirts rustling over the fallen leaves. Empire apples, bright as rubies, brushed the top of Katie’s kapp and Samuel’s brimmed hat. He thought suddenly of how Katie had once peeled an apple in one long string at a barn raising, had tossed the skin over her shoulder like the old wive’s tale said to see who she would marry; how all their friends and family had laughed to see it land in the shape of the letter S.

Suddenly the silence was thick and heavy on Samuel’s shoulders. “You’ve sure got a good harvest here,” he said, removing his hat. “Lot of applesauce to be put up.”

“It’ll keep my mother busy, that’s for certain.”

“And you?” he joked. “You’ll be in the barn with us, I suppose?”

“I don’t know where I’ll be.” Katie looked up at him, and cleared her throat. “Samuel, there’s something I have to tell you-”

He pressed his fingers against her mouth, her soft mouth, and let himself pretend for just a moment that this could have been a kiss. “No talking.”

Katie nodded and looked into her lap.

“It’s near November. Mary Esch, she’s got a lot of celery growing,” Samuel said.

Katie’s heart fell. The talk of November-the wedding month-and celery, which was used in most of the dishes at the wedding dinner, was too much to bear. She’d known about Mary and Samuel’s kiss, but no one had said anything more to her in the time that had passed. It was Samuel’s business, after all, and he had every right to go on with his life. To get married, next month, to Mary Esch.

“She’s gonna marry Owen King, sure as the sunrise,” Samuel continued.

Katie blinked at him. “She’s not going to marry you?”

“I don’t think the girl I want to marry is gonna look kindly on that.” Samuel blushed and glanced into his lap. “You won’t, will you?”

For a moment, Katie imagined that her life was like any other young Amish woman’s; that her world had not gone so off course that this sweet proposition was unthinkable. “Samuel,” she said, her voice wavering, “I can’t make you a promise now.”

He shook his head, but didn’t lift his gaze. “If it’s not this November, it’ll be next November. Or the November after that.”

“If I go away, it’ll be forever.”

“You never know. Take me, for example.” Samuel traced his finger along the brim of his hat, a perfect black circle. “There I was, so sure I was leaving you for good . . . and it turns out all that time I was just heading back to where I started.” He squeezed her hand. “You will think about it?”

“Yes,” Katie said. “I will.”

It was after midnight when Ellie silently crept upstairs to the bedroom. Katie was sleeping on her side, a band of moonlight sawing her into two like a magician’s assistant. Ellie quietly dragged the quilt into her arms, then tiptoed toward the door.

“What are you doing?”

She turned to face Katie. “Sleeping on the couch.”

Katie sat up, the covers falling away from her simple white nightgown. “You don’t have to do that.”