Anathema

by Colleen Coble

  An overabundance of celery signals upcoming nuptials.”

  —HANNAH SCHWARTZ,

  IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts

  Six months, six days, three hours since she ’d left him. Matt leaned away from his computer at the sheriff ’s department and rubbed his eyes. Every spare moment when he wasn’t working, he searched for Hannah, but she’d vanished without a ripple. How could she have disappeared so completely? She hadn’t appeared on any TV shows or been featured in any magazines. Her publisher wouldn’t divulge her address. Even with his contacts, he’d been stymied.

  Asia knew where she ’d gone, but she wouldn’t tell him. Meanwhile, her daughter was growing up without her mother. And he longed to see Hannah’s face. Grabbing his winter coat, he stepped out into a driving snowstorm. The weatherman was talking about the worst blizzard in Indiana since 1978, and the storm had already dropped six inches of snow, with another eight to ten inches forecast.

  It was a good night for staying in and eating popcorn with Caitlin, but he wanted to drive to Milwaukee and force Asia to divulge Hannah’s where-abouts. He managed to uncover his car and drove slowly through the clogged streets to his house. The snow in his shoes melted, freezing his feet by the time he got home. He let himself into the house and heard Gina’s voice on the phone.

  “Oh, Hannah, it’s so good to hear from you,” she said. “Caitlin is doing well. She started kindergarten, and she ’s reading already.” She fell silent while she listened. “I’ll e-mail you the picture from school. She’s probably grown two inches since you’ve seen her.”

  Gina had kept this from Matt. He’d had no idea she was still in contact with Hannah. He stayed where he was, listening quietly for any clue, but nothing Gina said gave away any possible location.

  When she hung up the phone and turned around, she stopped and put her hand to her throat. “Matt, you scared me.”

  “Have you been in touch with her ever since she left?” He stepped closer, and she backed away.

  “Look, she didn’t want you to know, okay?”

  “Where is she, Gina? I have to find her.” He grabbed the phone from her and checked the caller ID, but the call had come in as unknown.

  “She doesn’t want to be found. And maybe she ’s right. The doctors said you were a goner. They were shocked when you made the turnaround the day she left.”

  “God doesn’t make deals.” He turned and headed back to the office. “Show me her e-mails.”

  “Matt, don’t do this. Marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be anyway.”

  He stopped and grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t let your views about marriage keep me from being happy. I’m not Blake. I love Hannah, and I’m going to find her. Caitlin needs her too.”

  Her cheeks paled. “Do you blame me for being bitter? He was a thief as well as an adulterer.”

  “You have your health. Me, your friends. You’ve still got good things in your life if you’ll just accept them. Don’t you want me to be happy, Gina? Are you afraid I won’t need you if I’m married, that I’ll toss you out of the house or something?”

  The color came rushing back. “That’s a mean thing to say.”

  “Then help me find her.” He released her and stomped off to sit in front of the computer.

  Gina followed more slowly. “I’ve saved her e-mails.” She went to the Gmail sign-in screen and showed him the messages. “I’m going to go check on supper.”

  He began to read through them. Hannah’s e-mails were so much like her: caring and thoughtful. She often asked how Gina was dealing with her divorce and advised her about taking care of herself. Her concern showed through every message. He ached to see her, to touch her hair. How could she have left him like that? Didn’t she realize how much he needed her—how Caitlin needed her?

  He opened the next message and began to read. She mentioned a festival going on called Swiss Days. He checked the date and opened another Google screen. Bingo. It was held in Berne, Indiana, last July. He called up MapQuest and checked the distance—185 miles. A little over three hours in good weather. It was six o’clock. Surely he could be there by midnight, even with the storm. The highway crews would be out plowing the roads, and besides, he could take his four-wheel-drive with the blade on the front.

  He checked stats about Berne. The population was only a little over four thousand. All he ’d have to do is show her picture around town. Small towns could be protective of their own, but he wasn’t above flashing his badge if necessary. He went down the hall to his bedroom and packed his bag, then carried it to the hall.

  Ajax whined from his spot on the rug when he saw the suitcase. The dog stood and stretched and padded over to nuzzle Matt’s hand.

  Gina’s gaze went to the suitcase in his hand as well. “Where are you going?”

  “Berne. That’s where she is. I’m going to camp out at the McDonald’s. She loves their coffee. I’ll find her.”

  “You’ll be driving all night. Why not head up tomorrow morning?”

  “We may be snowed in by morning.”

  “You may get stuck out on the road tonight.”

  “The worst of it isn’t supposed to hit until after midnight. I want to go now. I’ve wasted enough time without her.”

  Caitlin came from the kitchen. “Are you going somewhere, Daddy? Can I go?” She ran to hang on to his leg.

  Matt started to stay no, then caught himself. Why not? He could use all the ammunition he could get. Even if Hannah refused to marry him, their daughter needed to have a relationship with her. Now that he knew where she was, he could make sure Caitlin understood how much Hannah loved them both.

  “Go pack your things,” he told her. “Take enough for a week.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To bring your new mommy home.”

  Caitlin’s eyes widened. “Yes!” She ran back to her room.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Gina asked.

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  “I’d better go help her, then.”

  Matt glanced at his watch. In only hours, he ’d look into Hannah’s beautiful eyes again.

  THE SNOW CAME nearly to Hannah’s knees. The cold wetness soaking her legs nearly took her breath away on the north wind. Carefully tucking the locket that held a picture of Matt and Caitlin inside her parka, she zipped it clear up to her neck and put on her gloves. She opened the trunk and removed the shovel, then made a path to the door of her office. Though it wasn’t likely anyone would come out in the weather until the plows came through, she wanted to be ready if she was needed. The battered women’s shelter needed to be welcoming no matter what was going on elsewhere. She’d only made it to work because her apartment was over the office.

  It took nearly an hour to uncover the walk to the office. She backtracked to the car to put the shovel away. Standing at the trunk of her car, she watched a big four-wheel-drive truck with a blade on the front approach. The driver was probably going to bury her car with the drifts he was plowing. A large drift barred his way. He backed up, then came at it twice before parting it. Snow blew over the hood of the vehicle.

  She stepped off the road and onto the walk. She thought she heard someone call, “Hannah!” but she had to be wrong. People here thought her name was Sonya Fearnow. The wind picked up, and she stuck her hands in her pockets and hurried toward her office door. The shout came again, and this time there was no mistaking the word.

  She turned to see the big truck pulling to a stop in the middle of the snow-clogged main street. A man leaped out, then lifted a little girl in his arms. A dog leaped from the truck and began to bark. The man stumbled through the snow toward the walk. Hannah drank in the sight of Matt in his heavy coat and Caitlin in her pink parka and boots. She’d hungered to see them both, to hear their voices.

  They reached the sidewalk. Matt’s gaze never wavered from her face. He put Caitlin on the sidewalk, and she broke into a run. “Momm
y!” she shouted. Ajax barked and raced up the walk with her.

  Hannah crumpled to her knees at the word. She opened her arms, and Caitlin hurtled into them. Ajax licked her face and nuzzled in her hair. Hannah hugged Caitlin tight to her chest and slung an arm around the dog. The sweet aroma of baby shampoo still clung to Caitlin’s auburn hair. Tears rushed to Hannah’s eyes.

  She looked into her daughter’s face. “Caitlin, what are you doing here?”

  Caitlin pulled away. “We comed to take you home with us. You have to pack now.” She said the words matter-of-factly, as if Hannah had no say in the matter.

  Matt reached her. Hannah released Ajax and rose with Caitlin in her arms. “How did you find me?”

  “I overheard you talking to Gina yesterday. I made her show me your e-mails and I figured it out.”

  She fell into the bottomless love in his eyes. Drowning, she fought her way to sanity. “You shouldn’t have come.”

  “You shouldn’t have left.” He held out his arms for Caitlin. “She ’s heavy. Let’s go inside.”

  Hannah handed her daughter over with reluctance. Only then did she become aware of the subzero wind howling around her neck. Lost in his gaze, she ’d felt only heat. “It’s warm inside.”

  “I’m not cold, but Caitlin might be.” Carrying his daughter, he followed her inside with Ajax at his heels.

  The austere surroundings brightened in the presence of the ones she loved. “Have a seat,” she said, pointing out the sofa and chairs.

  He dropped Caitlin onto the sofa. “What is this place?”

  “A shelter for abused women and children.” Hannah watched Caitlin’s gaze land on the toy box. The little girl glanced up at her, and she nodded. “Go ahead. You can play with them.”

  Caitlin hesitated. “How is Jenny?” she asked in a voice that was too casual.

  “She misses you. She’s upstairs. If you want to go up there, you can have her.”

  Caitlin’s smile was as bright as the sun beating off the snow outside. “Okay.”

  Matt’s gaze had never wavered from Hannah. She couldn’t look at him or she was lost. “This way.” She led them through the hall to the back stair-way and up to her tiny apartment.

  The living room wasn’t any bigger than a bedroom, and the only item on the coffee table was a picture of Caitlin and Matt smiling into the camera. A baby quilt nestled Jenny in the rocking chair in the corner. Caitlin ran to crawl into the chair with her doll. She took off her coat and nestled under the covering with the doll. All four cats came out to investigate. They milled around Ajax, and the dog flopped down. The cats climbed onto the dog and began to knead his fur. He wore an expression of bliss.

  Hannah clasped her hands together. “Would you like some tea? I’ve got milk and cookies too.”

  “Chocolate chip?” Matt asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  She could look at the way his dimple flashed forever. “Actually, they are,” she said. “I made them last night when the snow started falling.” She rushed past him to the miniscule kitchen. The plates rattled in her shaking hands as she took them down. When she turned around, he was standing in front of her. Close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss if she dared.

  She backed up with her palms flat against the edge of the counter behind her. “It’s a little tight for two people.”

  “I don’t mind.” His hands came down on her shoulders. “Look at me, Hannah.”

  She didn’t dare. “I—I need to get Caitlin some cookies.”

  His warm fingers lifted her chin, but she still refused to lift her gaze. His lips brushed hers. The touch she ’d longed to experience. A sob burst from her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and put her heart into answering his kiss.

  She’d missed him so. Longed to hear his voice, to bury her face in his neck and smell his aftershave. She ’d ached for his touch. She tore her mouth away.

  He tipped her chin up. “Look at me, Hannah.”

  She finally dared to raise her gaze, locking it with his. “Don’t do this, Matt.” The pleading in his eyes broke her heart. She had to be strong for his sake.

  He cupped her cheek in his hand. “I heard every word you said the day you left. I tried to tell you not to go, but I couldn’t get the words out. I’ve looked for you every day since you left. I need you. Caitlin needs her mommy. You can’t desert us.”

  “I thought she would forget me, but she called me . . . Mommy.” Was there a more precious word in the human language? Hannah’s shields were crumbling, and she didn’t know how to shore them up.

  “I’ve shown her your picture every day you’ve been gone and talked about you. So she wouldn’t forget.”

  The thought of his taking the time to do that made her want to cry. “How’d you find me here in town?”

  He grinned. “It took us until two this morning to get here, and I went to McDonald’s as soon as it opened in case someone there knew you. I told her you’d order an iced vanilla coffee. A woman behind the counter told me where you worked, so we came to take you home. If you can forgive me for all the lies.”

  “I forgave you long ago. But I can’t come with you. Something might happen to you,” she whispered.

  The light in his eyes intensified. “God doesn’t make deals like that, love. He’s never stopped loving you, just like I’ve never stopped. The forgiveness you were taught is only a shadow of what God gives. You just have to take it. Quit beating yourself up.” He pulled her close again.

  Oh, if only she could believe him. But she was afraid, so very afraid. “You have to forget about me. I want only good things for you and Caitlin.”

  “You were made for us. Who would love her more than her own mother? Do you want her to deal with some wicked stepmother?”

  Hannah laughed, but the thought unsettled her. It was painful to imagine someone else reading her daughter a bedtime story. Or even worse, yelling at her. Her thoughts shied away from imagining Matt with another woman. But wasn’t that what sacrifice was all about? And God had honored it—here he stood, whole and strong.

  “I can’t break my pact with God,” she whispered.

  “‘To do righteousness and justice is more acceptable to the LORD than sacrifice,’” he said. “Proverbs 21:3. Don’t you think it’s right to raise your own child? To love the man God created just for you?”

  Could it really be that easy? Her defenses crumbled around her feet.

  He gripped her shoulders in his hands. “I’m not leaving here until you agree to marry me, let me make an honest woman of you. Isn’t that justice?” His dimple flashed.

  “An honest woman?”

  “You don’t want Caitlin going around telling everyone you’re her mother and we’ve never been married.” His blue eyes smiled again.

  A small hand insinuated itself into hers. “When are we going home, Mommy?”

  Hannah looked down into her daughter’s face, then back to Matt’s. Happiness was in her reach. All she had to do was accept the good things God had sent her way. Was that so bad? Certainty enveloped her. “How about we go home right now?”

  She knelt on the floor and embraced her daughter. Matt joined her with cookies in hand, and they devoured the sweetness of life together.

  Acknowledgments

  Dear Readers,

  Many of you ask how I come up with an idea. In this case, my agent, Karen Solem, and I were talking about the Amish school shooting in Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania. Karen said, “I wonder what would happen if something really horrific happened and a member of the church couldn’t forgive?” The idea for Anathema evolved from her astute question.

  I have some Amish friends whom I dearly love, and I so admire their homes and their children. I tried to present a balance in this story, though much of Hannah’s longing for her Amish family springs from my own peace when I’m in their home. They have such contentment there. Watching their children interact with only love and no fighting is a real joy. So thank you, my friends (you know who
you are), and I wish you God’s blessings always.

  I couldn’t create the stories you enjoy, Readers, without my Thomas Nelson family: fiction publisher Allen Arnold, Superman to those of us who love him, and even more than that, a man who lights up the room he enters; senior editor Ami McConnell, who had fabulous insight and suggestions for this book, as always, and who blesses me with her awesome ability and friendship; editor Natalie Hanemann, my friend and a budding Ami with an eye for good fiction; marketing director Jennifer Deshler, who is the most creative marketing person I know and a friend who is always looking out for my best interests; marketing specialist Bekah Quillan, who partners with Jen and me in coming up with great ideas; fabulous cover guru Mark Ross (you so rock!), who works hard to create the perfect cover and does it every single time; fellow Hoosier Lisa Young, who lends a shoulder to cry on when needed; my sweet Amanda Bostic, who is still my friend even though she doesn’t work on my books anymore; and my freelance editor Erin Healy, whose magic touch on my books is the glue that holds us all together. I love you all more than I can say. And I’m thrilled that Erin is writing! Look for her name on a book with Ted Dekker soon and buy it.

  I had some great input on the Swiss Amish by Joe and Frances Schwartz—they even yodeled for me! Thanks so much for your help. My thanks to the Rockville Sheriff ’s Department for answering stupid questions.

  Writing can be a lonely business, but God has blessed me with great writing friends and critique partners. Kristin Billerbeck, Diann Hunt, and Denise Hunter make up the Girls Write Out squad (www.GirlsWriteOut.blogspot.com). I couldn’t make it through a day without my peeps! And another one of those is Robin Miller, president of ACFW (www.acfw.com), who spots inconsistencies in a suspense plot with an eagle eye. Thanks to all of you for the work you do on my behalf and for your friendship. Special thanks to Karen Solem, Mel and Cheryl Hodde (Hannah Alexander), Cara Putman, Denise Hunter, and Diann Hunt, who helped me brainstorm this book one crazy night at CBA Advance in Indianapolis. The title was Mel’s brainchild.

  I have a super supportive family that puts up with my crazy work schedule. My husband, Dave, carts me around from city to city, washes towels, and runs to fetch dinner without complaint. Thanks, honey! I couldn’t do anything without you. My son and daughter-in-law, Dave and Donna Coble, and my daughter, Kara Coble, as well as my new grandsons, James and Jorden Packer, love and support me in every way possible. Love you guys! And thanks to my parents, George and Peggy Rhoads; my brothers, Rick and Dave Rhoads; their wives, Mary and Teresa; and my “other parents,” Carroll and Lena Coble. One of them is often the first to hear a new idea, and they never laugh at me. Love you all!