Free Reflection by Diane Chamberlain Page A

on the long drive to the airport.
    She had desperately wanted things to work out with Luke, but everything was against her. She was in love with a man she could not have, while her husband had turned into someone she could never love again.

–5–
    MICHAEL STOLTZ DROVE THROUGH the falling darkness. He had one last stop to make before he’d be through for the night. He checked his watch in the overhead light of the car. He had less than an hour before he was to meet Drew back at his house. He hoped Amos Blank would not be a tough sell.
    He’d collected thirty-one signatures since noon, stopping at farms and Amish-run shops. The petition was straightforward. It asked the board of supervisors to deny Marielle Hostetter’s proposal to develop her land. The shortsighted planning commission had already approved the proposal, despite the impact study, which showed—in his opinion, anyway—the variety of ways in which the town would suffer because of the development. So the petitions were important. Michael already had two hundred signatures on the petition he’d passed among other residents of Reflection, but getting the plain sects to sign was a different matter.
    He turned into the long driveway of the Blanks’ farm. The stretch of macadam bisected a wide expanse of moonlit pasture, and the white farmhouse itself was bathed in a welcoming glow. Michael parked close to the house and got out of his car.
    A dog, a mixture of collie and shepherd, barked from the porch, and a child peeked out from behind the dark shades in one of the front windows. Michael waved, laughing as the shade quickly dropped back into place.
    The dog ran down the steps, its barking intensifying as Michael walked toward the house.
    â€œHush,” he said, and the dog’s tail began to wag. He sniffed the back of Michael’s hand and trotted along next to him to the front steps.
    Michael didn’t have to knock before Amos opened the door for him.
    â€œCome in, Michael.” Amos sounded as if he’d been expecting him.
    â€œThanks.” Michael stepped into the wide, open living room. It was lit by a propane-gas lantern on the mantel, tinting everything in the room with a warm gold hue.
    Michael held up the tablet. “I have a petition with me—”
    â€œI know what you have,” Amos said. “I’ve heard. Sit.”
    Michael heard the clatter of dishes from the kitchen as he took a seat on the sofa. He could smell cabbage and something else. Ham, probably. Biscuits. He hoped he was not interrupting the Blanks’ supper. The little girl he’d seen at the window peered around the frame of the living room door. She was big-eyed, and her hair was parted in the middle and pinned tightly back from her face. Amos said something to her in German, and she disappeared, giggling.
    Michael turned his attention back to his host. “The petition simply states our concerns about allowing the Hostetter development to take place.” He attempted to hand the tablet over to Amos, but the other man made no move to take it.
    â€œI don’t know that it’s something we should get involved with,” Amos stroked his long graying beard. He was probably no more than forty-four, Michael’s age, but he looked at least ten years older.
    â€œWell, you can look at the other signatures. Thirty-one of them just today.” He named some of Amos’s neighbors. He didn’t tell him about those who would not sign. The Amish were divided on this—not in the sentiment that the land should remain as it was but on how strong a stance they should take. Nonresistance was a fundamental tenet both of their church and his own. Still, it was important to let those in power know their objections. It was important to be counted.
    â€œI’ll tell you something I don’t understand,” Amos said.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œI’ve heard that Drew Albrecht is doing this