Anathema

by Colleen Coble

  Mary nodded. “We look enough alike to be sisters,” she said.

  Subtle touches of makeup enhanced Mary’s skin and eyes. Hannah stared into Mary’s face and saw what she could be if she were Englisch. The stylish clothes, the cute hairstyle. She was aware of how she must look to these two women: a frumpy dress, lank hair wound up on top of her head and covered with a prayer kapp, sensible black shoes.

  She didn’t deserve the life she led now, a life supposedly devoted to a God who had punished her beyond what she could bear. It was hard to even form her lips around acceptable words, to manage a smile. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “How did you hear about it?”

  “Your aunt Nora called me.” Cathy’s eyes reddened. “I wish I’d come sooner. I never got a chance to tell Patty I was sorry. Now it’s too late.”

  Hannah caught the movement of Luca’s arm from where he stood near the grave site. “The service is about to start.”

  The short service passed in a blur. When it was Hannah’s turn to drop dirt onto the casket, as was the custom among her people, she came to full awareness. Noah gave her a little shove forward. She scooped a handful of mud. The earth clung to her fingers, the cold penetrating to the bone, and refused to drop onto the casket.

  It was like her own refusal to let go of her family.

  She shook her hand and finally succeeded in tossing down clumps of mud. Holding her head up, she turned from the open graves and found herself facing Ellen Long across the field. When Hannah inhaled sharply, her cousin Luca glanced at her with a question in his eyes.

  In Hannah’s mind, the strychnine in the cookies proved Cyrus’s guilt, though no one could understand the reason he would take two lives and then his own. The detectives were still investigating. They’d questioned his wife, who’d tearfully proclaimed that she knew nothing about it.

  Luca turned to look. “It’s Mrs. Long. We need to talk to her.”

  Hannah shook her head, her gaze still on the young woman in the sky-blue suit. “Not me. Luca, her husband killed my parents.” She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the pretty blonde. She embraced the bitterness and anger rising in her chest. The man had some sick and twisted reason to kill her family. It wasn’t Hannah’s fault.

  Didn’t Ellen realize her presence here would cause them all pain? The young woman was struggling to walk in inappropriate heels that sank into the mud. Her hair drooped in wet strands around her face. From here it looked as though black ringed her eyes. Hannah rejected the pity struggling to emerge from her emotions. Surely the woman had known her husband hated the Schwartz family. Maybe she had participated in the murders. Cyrus had to have had an accomplice, someone to run off with Mamm’s quilts.

  The bishop approached. “How are you doing, Hannah?”

  She wanted to scream that she couldn’t answer that question one more time, but she just hung her head and said nothing. If she could wish herself away from here, she’d leave in a heartbeat. Everyone expected so much from her, but she had nothing left to give.

  “Hannah, Mrs. Long is here. You need to speak to her, tell her you forgive Cyrus.”

  Luca took her forearm in a firm grasp. “We ’ll do it now. Both of us.”

  “No!” Hannah jerked her arm out of Luca’s grasp, and he let his hand drop. “We have no one left. I don’t want to talk to her.” With a shock, she recognized that the hatred she felt toward Ellen Long was a thin veneer over her own self-hatred. Hannah, not Ellen, was the one who was guilty. God had merely used the Longs to punish her.

  “You have to forgive, Hannah. You know it is required.” The bishop took her firmly by the arm and began tugging her toward the woman, who stood with a pleading smile, watching them approach.

  Noah flanked Hannah’s other side, his hand on her arm as well. She felt as though she were being dragged to the gallows. Something broke in Hannah. She dug her heels into the soft earth that had received the earthly remains of her family. “No, I won’t,” she said, her voice rising above the shriek of the wind. She tore herself free from their grips.

  A flash of light caught her eye, and she saw a sheriff ’s car pull to a stop on the soft shoulder of the dirt road. Reece got out of the driver’s side. He saw her and jogged to meet her. “Are you okay?”

  Luca moved toward her again as Hannah shrank against Reece. “Come, Hannah. It must be done.”

  Reece ’s strong arm came around her. “Don’t touch her. She doesn’t want to go with you.”

  “Please stay out of this, Deputy. It’s something Hannah must do for her own good.” Luca attempted again to tug her away from Reece.

  Reece’s other arm came up, and he tore Luca’s hand away from Hannah’s arm. “She’s free to go if she wants, Mr. Schwartz, but I won’t have her forced. Hannah, do you want to go with him?”

  “No!” She burrowed closer against Reece ’s barrel chest.

  “You heard the lady.” Reece turned away with his arm still around her and moved her away from Luca. Only Hannah saw his smile.

  If she had to talk to Ellen, she would babble out her own guilt. She couldn’t forgive the Long family any more easily than she could forgive herself. They were all in this together, if everyone just knew the truth.

  Reece moved her away from the rest of the group. “You’re still shaking. What did he want?”

  Hannah couldn’t talk about it. She couldn’t face what she’d become. Inhaling the spicy scent of his cologne, she knew he would rescue her. She had to be brave enough to let him. “I’ll marry you,” she gasped. “But we must go now, quickly, before they can stop us.”

  Reece’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “Are you sure, honey? There ’s no going back.”

  “I’m sure.” She ’d chosen her course. God had rejected her. She was anathema.

  four

  “Someday you’ll marry a good man, Hannah.

  Trust him and submit to him.”

  PATRICIA SCHWARTZ

  The new clothes Reece had insisted on buying Hannah were alien, strange to her skin. The skirt just touched her knees, and her arms were bare for the first time other then when she bathed. She tugged on the V-neck of the blouse and wished for a shawl in the dimly lit Market Street Grill. Trains chugged around the bar, but she kept her gaze averted. Bars were where the devil and his crowd hung out. Why would her new husband bring her here? Wabash. She ’d never been farther than Nyesville.

  She stared out the window. The trees hadn’t leafed out yet, and the small downtown looked as barren as she felt with Englisch all around her. The breaded pork tenderloin sandwich in front of her nearly covered her plate, and she had only managed a few bites.

  This wasn’t the way she ’d pictured her wedding day. It was supposed to be on a Tuesday, with a church service followed by a daylong celebration of food and fellowship. She should be wearing a blue dress and black kapp. Even the food they’d eaten today was alien. There was no chicken and stuffing with lots of celery, no creamed celery. All the extra celery seed Mamm had saved to plant in the garden this year for her wedding would go to waste.

  She chewed food she couldn’t taste and sipped chlorinated water. She glanced down at the golden band on her hand. She was a married woman. No, more than that, a married Englisch woman. Even during her rumspringa, her running around time, she ’d never been tempted to desert her faith. Yet here she was.

  “Pretty ring, isn’t it?” Reece said, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

  “Never have I worn jewelry,” she said. Reece beamed proudly until she added, “It feels very strange. And sinful.”

  His smile faded. “Finish your dinner, honey.”

  He sounded as tired as she felt. She picked up the sandwich and tried to chew another bite. All she really wanted was to flee the place, run back to the comfort of her family. But they were dead, all dead. Her duty was to obey her husband, to love him and be as good a wife as her mother had been.

  He smiled at her. “We ’ll have a good life, Hannah. I’ve already found a
job here in Wabash. Our apartment is across the street. It’s just been renovated, and I think you’ll like it.”

  “Downtown? Not in the country?” She’d rarely even been to town, and the constant hubbub of cars disoriented her.

  “Do you always mean to question me, Hannah? I know you don’t like to be told what to do, but I’m your husband. We ’ll be happier if you follow my leadership. This is a strange world to you, but I know what’s best for us.”

  “No, no, I’m sorry. Of course you do.” She was doing this all wrong. “You are my husband. I always plan to obey you. But so many things are foreign to me. Be patient, please, Reece.” Her rebellion was what had killed her parents. She needed to be more submissive.

  His gaze softened. “You’ll learn everything, sweetheart.” He gestured at her plate. “It’s obvious the food is not to your liking. Let’s go see our new home.”

  She stood so hastily she nearly knocked over the chair. Staggering a little in the unfamiliar heels, she held on to his arm all the way out to the curb. Quaint Victorian buildings lined the street. Knowing the name of the town—Wabash—made her feel still connected to her roots in the Wabash Valley three hours west of here. Dodging the cars coming down the one-way street, he helped her across to the other side. She stepped onto the curb beside the stone elephants.

  He led her to the left to a set of glass doors.

  He stopped to dig in his pocket. “I’ve already got the key.”

  She went past him through a large glass door at the end of a store called Modoc’s. Inside, the entry was spacious, and a wide staircase ascended to the next floor. The Victorian woodwork looked freshly refinished. “I like this,” she said.

  “Finally, something meets the approval of the princess.” He was smiling, but there was an edge to his tone.

  She tried to push away the hurt as she hurried up the majestic stairway. It would take time for them to adjust to one another. They were practically strangers, even taking into account their snatched moments together. It was the pressure of the past few days that had changed things. Once they settled in, he would be the sweet Reece with whom she’d fallen in love.

  Reece caught up with her at the top of the steps and pointed to a door-way on the right. He unlocked it and swung it open for her to enter. She glanced around and smiled. “The sitting room is small, but it’s cozy.”

  “Living room,” he corrected. “You need to start getting the terminology right.”

  “Living room.” She walked through the furnished space to the tiny kitchen. No window at all, but she kept a smile on her face. “It’s all new.”

  “So’s the bathroom.” He showed her the miniscule bathroom just past the kitchen.

  She spied another small room off the hall. “A nursery!”

  He frowned. “A computer room. Let’s get one thing straight right now. I don’t want any kids, hon.”

  Her smile faltered. “Oh, Reece, you don’t mean it. I want lots of babies.”

  “I’m serious. If you get pregnant, you can have an abortion.”

  Her limbs turned to ice. “It would be a mortal sin. That’s taking a life.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion. Enough about sin, Hannah. I’m sick of hearing the word. We don’t need children. All we need is you and me, happy together.”

  “Why don’t you want babies, Reece?” She edged closer. “They bring so much joy to a house.”

  His expression turned stony. “I was a foster kid with nothing that was sacred, nothing that belonged to me. I was always the last person anyone cared about. I knew someday I’d find a woman who would love me only. Aren’t I enough for you, Hannah?” His gaze searched hers.

  “Of course you are, Reece!” She cupped his cheek in her palm. “I love you. We won’t talk about it now.”

  “I won’t change my mind, hon.” He turned his head and kissed her palm. “But we’ll have a good life without kids.” His smile turned tender. “Let me show you the bedroom.”

  A DREARY GRAY day held Rockville in its grip. It was a shock after the sunshine in Hawaii. Matt glanced around the room of assembled deputies. “What do you mean Reece is gone?”

  “He ran off with the Amish chick,” one of the men said. “After the funeral.”

  Matt sank onto a chair. That’s what he got for taking off two weeks for his honeymoon. “What about the investigation?”

  “The poison was in the cookies. Long was seen making the cookies, and he’s dead.”

  It seemed too easy to Matt. “Motive? And if he knew the cookies were tainted, why would he eat one?”

  “According to the coroner, he likely either inhaled the strychnine or absorbed it through his skin during the baking of the cookies. It was accidental.” Captain Sturgis cleared his throat. “The motive is unclear, but that’s the way it is sometimes. People do crazy things and we never figure out why.”

  Matt had seen plenty of that over the years. “You find the quilts?”

  “We dredged the lake, but nothing turned up.”

  “Then he had an accomplice.”

  “Probably, but we have no leads. No one saw a thing. It’s been a frustrating case. It’s your baby now, with Reece gone. If you can find anything, you’ll be a hero. How was the honeymoon?” A sly grin crept out.

  “Great.” He left the other deputies and went to his office. Maybe Reece had left him a note. It was unlike his partner—his foster brother, in fact—to take off without a word. Matt rummaged through his desk but found nothing but a new report on a burglary of a local convenience store. Maybe Reece had left something with Trudy, their grandmother. Matt dialed her number.

  “Matthew, I never even got a postcard,” she said when she picked up the phone.

  Stupid caller ID didn’t even give him a minute to get an explanation in. “Analise was sick a lot. Migraines. I took care of her and didn’t get outside much.”

  “She should have that checked.”

  “That’s what I told her, but she ’s had them for years. Hey, did you know Reece ran off with an Amish girl? Hannah Schwartz.” Silence on the other end. “Trudy?”

  “When did this happen?”

  “I guess after the funeral. I just heard about it. I take it he didn’t come to tell you good-bye? Or leave my gun with you?”

  “What gun?”

  “He borrowed my revolver.” And Matt planned to get it back when he found Reece. It wasn’t the gun that upset Matt, though. It was the way Reece had just disappeared without a word.

  “After all I did for that boy,” his grandmother muttered.

  At nearly thirty, Reece was hardly a boy, but Matt said nothing. She needed to vent. “He ’ll probably call you once he gets settled.”

  Matt used to be jealous of the relationship Reece had with Trudy, but he’d accepted it long ago. There was no use crying over something he couldn’t change. If she wanted to love a foster kid more than her own grandson, he ’d let her.

  THE SOFTLY GLOWING candles on the table scented the room with cinnamon. Hannah paced the living room, pausing occasionally to listen for Reece’s footsteps on the staircase. She willed herself not to cry. The special dinner was ruined. The pasta sat in a milky, soggy mess in the bottom of the pan, and the spaghetti sauce had burned in spite of the low heat. She should have shut it off and warmed it up when he got home.

  She’d wanted tonight, their first anniversary, to be perfect. Reece should have been home nearly three hours ago. He’d called from Scotty’s Bar two hours ago and said he’d be there in fifteen minutes. She should have known better. When he got to swapping stories with his friends, he lost all sense of time. The outfit she wore should please him, but she was tempted to change out of the short, tight skirt into something more modest and comfortable. He didn’t care anyway. She tugged on the plunging neckline. Her feet ached from the spiky high heels. These revealing clothes embarrassed her, but he always reminded her she was supposed to please him, not herself. At least he hadn’t made her go to the bar with him tonigh
t to show her off like he did sometimes.

  She dragged herself to the tiny kitchen to begin cleaning up the mess. Her eyes burned, and she wished her aunt Nora had a phone. Here in Wabash, she felt so isolated. Reece refused to take her to church or let her meet anyone other than the leering men in the bars. Was this normal for an Englisch family? She had no way of knowing. One Sunday she’d slipped away while he was working to attend the Presbyterian church up the hill on Miami Street, but when he found out, he ’d been so angry he’d frightened her and she never tried it again.

  She heard the front door open and wiped her hands on her apron. Taking it off, she drew a deep breath, then walked down the hall to the living room to meet him.

  He wore a smile and held a bouquet of drooping flowers. “There’s my girl,” he said, his voice slurred. His eyes were bright as he stared at her. “Come give me a kiss, honey. You look good enough to eat.”

  The thought of his drunken kisses made her shudder, and she stopped where she was. “Did you eat?”

  “Of course not. I wanted to eat with my beautiful wife.” His smile widened. “Come here, Hannah.”

  She turned and headed back toward the kitchen. He wasn’t going to come home three hours late and then expect her to be happy to see him. “I’ll fix you a hamburger or something. Dinner is ruined.”

  “Ruined?” He trailed after her into the miniscule kitchen. “If you loved me the way you should, you’d have held it for me.”

  She whirled. “You were supposed to be home three hours ago. Even if you’d come home two hours ago like you promised, it would have been okay. But there ’s nothing left now. It’s all ruined.” Tears ran down her cheeks, and she swiped them with the back of her hand.

  His gaze rambled around the kitchen and took in the soggy pasta, the crusted-over sauce, the mushy vegetables. “I had things to do,” he said. “You have no right to question me. Don’t I give you everything you want? I buy you pretty clothes and makeup. Perfume and jewelry.”