Forsaken

by Leanna Ellis

She drew a slow, steadying breath. If she died, she was ready, for then she would see Jacob again.

  She touched the cool, dirt floor, searching as if to be reminded that Akiva had been there. Somehow it made her feel closer to Jacob, and yet it made no sense to her. When her fingers nudged something hard, her hand faltered, then her fingers folded over a pointed corner of a book.

  With her heart thumping, she moved back to the door, where moonlight slanted through the opening, and she turned the book over in her hands. Lovingly, she ran her hand over her book, the book Jacob had given her. How did it get here? Had she dropped it? Or had Akiva taken it? She dusted it off, opened the front cover, and read what Jacob had written: To Hannah, With love, Jacob.

  A heaviness weighted her heart, but then whispers swirled through her head. That voice. That call acted like a steel hook piercing her heart and pulling her toward…What?

  She hid the book inside her apron and pushed out into the night, closing the spring house door and latching it. Then a shadow fell across her. She startled and a tiny gasp emerged from her cold lips.

  Akiva.

  He leaned against the outside wall, his smile self-satisfied, but his gaze remained dark and intense. “Did I startle you, sweet Hannah?”

  “I-I thought you’d left.” Her stutter gave her away. “It’s been days. I just now found…” She touched the book in her apron, but she decided to keep silent. Her gaze dropped to his chest where his leather jacket was unzipped as if the cold did not bother him, and he wore a clean, unblemished white T-shirt. “Are you better?”

  “Much. Is that your book?”

  She pulled it from her apron as if to remind herself what it was. Even though she knew. “Yes.”

  “I found it, Hannah. I didn’t steal it.” He spoke as if he had read her mind. But that was impossible.

  “I wasn’t accusing.”

  He straightened, standing tall before her, and took a step in her direction, his gaze intent on her. “I enjoyed reading it.”

  Her insides trembled, and she held the book out toward him, unsure what her intention was. Why would she offer the book, her most prized possession, to this stranger? Maybe it was a way to put a barrier between them. Or maybe it was a way to draw this man closer. “Would you like it?”

  “You keep it. It’s yours after all. Jacob gave it to you, no?” He moved around her, so close he could easily have brushed her clothes with his, touched her bare neck, bathed her skin with his breath, and yet he did not cross the invisible wall that stood between them. “I love words, the way they wash over my ears.” He stopped before her, closed his eyes as if listening to the sounds of words in his head, then cocked his head sideways, and opened his eyes again.

  She felt like she was falling into his gaze, losing herself, losing…

  “Foolish, I suppose.” His smooth forehead crinkled. “I apologize.”

  “Jacob,” she whispered as if Akiva was her beloved, as if Jacob was standing before her. But it was impossible. This man wasn’t Jacob. She shook her head, an attempt to shake loose her muddled thoughts. “Jacob…he loved words too.” She gave an awkward laugh. “Will you be staying here tonight? I could bring the blankets back.”

  “Would that be a problem?”

  “No, not at all. Can I get you anything? Something to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry.” But his heated gaze felt as if he devoured each curve of her frame.

  She took a step backward, sensing something unusual, something dangerous. Glancing sideways, she looked for a route of escape.

  “Hannah?”

  Reluctantly, she met his gaze again, felt the same tilting sensation.

  “Did you tell anyone about me?”

  “I made a promise.”

  “And you are a woman who lives up to her promises, I see.”

  She shifted from one foot to the next.

  “Do I make you nervous, sweet Hannah?”

  Heat bloomed along her neck and cheeks. “A little.”

  “Is it me? Or all men?”

  His question unsettled her. “I’m engaged.”

  Her lie tasted sour in her mouth. What was she doing? It was as if she threw those words up as a protective mechanism against this man, but they turned out to be a feather against a powerful gale.

  Akiva’s face darkened. “Are you now?” He stepped toward her, his presence broad and dark and menacing. He was only inches from her, and she tried to avoid that gaze, the certainty of knowing her lie, but she could not. “Are you really?”

  “No,” she confessed. “Not yet.” She comforted herself that her lie wasn’t actually a lie. Levi was interested…Wasn’t he?

  “Who is it?” His voice sounded suddenly cold, and his gaze turned sharp. “This one who wants to marry you. Or is it the other way around?”

  Her insides shifted. She should not have spoken in such a way. Levi might not want to marry her, especially because of the way she had treated him. And yet, why had his image bloomed in her mind? “You couldn’t know him. He is Amish.”

  Suddenly, Akiva grabbed her arm, his grip unforgiving. “Have you been baptized already?”

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and she twisted her arm, trying to loosen his grip, but still he held her tight. “Why do you care?”

  Akiva’s mouth distorted and as quickly as he’d grabbed her, he released her. “Why wouldn’t I care?”

  She touched her bruised wrist, her gaze shot toward the house, and her feet took two steps in that direction.

  “Hannah.” Something in the way he spoke her name, something familiar, kept her from running and somehow calmed her erratic heartbeat. “Hannah, look at me, please.”

  Slowly, hesitantly, she looked up and felt the impact of his gaze all the way down to the core of her being, parts of her she hadn’t felt since Jacob had last kissed her, in that long, slow, sweet way of his that used to make her tremble.

  “I am sorry.” His voice gentled, stroked, appeased. “But I…” He shook his head, stepped back. “I feared…”

  His confession startled her. “Feared what?”

  “Feared you had made an irrevocable decision. One that would separate—”

  “Separate what?”

  He shook his head again and his lips rolled inward. “Why did you say you were not yet engaged? ‘Not yet’?”

  Looking into his dark gaze, she felt as if she could withhold nothing from him. “Levi is a good man. He will be a good husband.”

  “Levi.” He tested out the name. But was that condescension or surprise in his tone? “There are a lot of good men in the world,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you love him.”

  She blinked. “Doesn’t mean I won’t.”

  “Touché.”

  His word puzzled her. “What does that mean?”

  “A close touch.” He reached forward with his pointer finger aimed right at her heart. Before he could make the final thrust forward, which would connect them, she backed away. “What are you afraid of, sweet Hannah?”

  She lifted her chin a notch. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Then what keeps you from saying yes to this Amish boy?”

  “He’s not a boy. He’s a man.”

  Akiva tilted his head as if giving in to her side of the argument, and yet it didn’t feel like an argument. But whatever it was felt lopsided, weighted on Akiva’s side. “Age isn’t only a number but also life experiences and understanding of the world.”

  She gave a slight shrug. “The Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”

  He chuckled and rubbed his chin. “There is much to fear, Hannah. But should we really fear the Lord? Love him? Yes. But fear Him? Hasn’t he promised His love and mercy?” He stepped closer. “But what is it you fear?”

  “Why do you care? You don’t know me or my family or even Levi.”

 
“You helped me, Hannah. I feel obligated to help you now. Is that wrong?”

  She took a step away, which gave her the ability to breathe easier, and turned from him. “I guess not.” She wrapped her arms over her middle. “But you’re under no obligation. I only did my Christian duty. Anyone would—”

  “No, not anyone.”

  She supposed he was right about that. Not everyone would have helped him. But did that mean he was right about the other things he’d said?

  His hands settled on her shoulders and turned her back toward him. His gaze was gentle and kind. Maybe he would understand the fears she fought. Maybe…“What if I’m not a…good wife?”

  “You? That seems highly unlikely. But I can understand how you might doubt your ability to…ah…”—a smile stretched his mouth—“to please him.”

  Grateful for the darkness, she felt her skin burn at his ability to see inside her mind or heart or both. “I should go.”

  “Or is it that you still want someone else?”

  She brushed past this man she did not even know. She had already revealed too much; he had presumed too much. Nothing else would she reveal—to him or to anyone.

  But his voice stopped her with, “Why have you not asked me about him?”

  She lifted her chin a notch and pretended not to know whom he meant. “Who?”

  “Jacob.”

  The few feet between them no longer provided a sense of security. She kept her back to him, as if that could hide her thoughts, her feelings. Even though she was wrapped in her cape with a scarf around her head, she felt unclothed, as if he could see right through her to the quick-flight beat of her heart.

  She did not hear his footsteps, but suddenly he was there, next to her, peering over her shoulder to whisper, “You think of him. Don’t you?”

  Some days she thought of nothing but. Words jammed her throat. She swallowed and swallowed again, her throat convulsing with indecision. Then she felt Akiva’s hand at the base of her neck, his touch gentle, and the pads of his fingers light yet insistent on an answer. Tears once again sprang to the surface. She didn’t want or intend to, but she nodded nonetheless.

  “You dream of him too.”

  She blinked, leaving her eyes closed, squeezing them shut, praying for control. Hot, vile tears stung the insides of her eyelids. His questions, his awareness, his probing, were unraveling her. Quaking. Trembling. Shaking loose. She was coming undone.

  His hand folded about the ridge of her shoulders. His skin was hot against hers, burning into her like a brand. Was it her heartbeat she felt or his, the beat thud, thud, thudding into her? “Do not be afraid of love, my sweet Hannah. Embrace it. Hold on to it. Love deeply. For it is a miracle.”

  “It is impossible.” Her voice cracked and tears fell.

  “All things are possible…are they not?”

  Her nod was slow and compliant. Was it her will or his? But then she whispered, “Will you tell me of him? Of Jacob?”

  “Yes.”

  A constriction in her chest loosened and she could once again breathe.

  “But you must come with me.”

  She swirled away from him, breaking the light hold he had on her.

  He raised one eyebrow in a mocking question. “If you want to know more about Jacob, then you will come with me. Tomorrow night.”

  When she finally nodded her agreement, he smiled—a smile that carried a wallop, and she felt the repercussion deep, deep inside.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  She was screaming.

  That’s what Roc had heard over the cell phone—her screams. It was Emma’s custom to call him as she headed out of the hospital after her late shift in the ER and walked toward her car in the parking garage.

  “How’s your night going?”

  “Same ol’, same ol’. You?”

  “Slow actually. Ready to soak in the tub.”

  “Think of me.”

  Inane conversation. Nothing important. No way to know it would be the last time they’d ever speak to each other. How many times had he wondered: if they’d only known, what would they have said? What do you say to someone who holds your heart in the moments, seconds, before they vanish forever? And before your heart turns into a pillar of salt? Even now, he wasn’t sure he had an answer. A moment was too short. So was a lifetime.

  “Hold on,” she’d told him.

  He was on duty in another part of New Orleans, a good fifteen minutes away. He’d been typing into his squad car’s computer about the traffic stop he’d just made. Over the cell phone, pressed between his shoulder and ear, he heard the murmurings of someone speaking to her.

  “What?” Emma asked. “I’m sorry but—”

  Then there was a clatter, a crunching noise. He realized later that Emma’s cell phone hit the pavement.

  “Stop!” Her voice came through muted but audible. “Let go!”

  And then the screaming had started. And it continued rebounding in his head even now in his sleep.

  He jerked straight up in bed, his arms flailing as if he could fight off her attacker, as if he could save her. His arm flailed wide, and he knocked a book he’d borrowed from the red-headed teen at the B&B onto the floor. The room was dark, the television flickering in the corner, the news scrolling along the bottom of the screen. Sweat poured off him. He shoved his fingers through his hair, clutched his skull, and squeezed—a poor attempt to stop the screams.

  In reality, her screaming hadn’t lasted long. He’d shouted into the phone for her and then radioed for an assault in progress at Children’s Hospital. He was on the other side of Tulane University on Canal Street, but he spun his car in her direction and was there in less than ten.

  Blue and red emergency vehicle lights were already slicing through the darkness, and doctors and nurses on duty at the hospital were standing around the parking garage. The police tried to hold him back, grabbing at his arms, restraining him. But he fought through them. They couldn’t hold him. He ran for the center of everyone’s attention.

  Emma.

  She was lying with her back against a wall, feet splayed, one toe of a tennis shoe angled inward. Her head tilted at an odd angle. Her hand on the concrete floor was palm up. And Roc knew. Before he slid to his knees beside her, he knew.

  Her eyes were open, the gaze blank. Empty. As if the levy of all she had been, known, loved had broken, and everything drained out of her.

  Blood splotched the front of her scrubs. Was it hers? A patient’s? And then he saw the gaping hole at the side of her neck. Blood should be pouring out of her, pooling around her. He’d seen enough wounds in his life to know the major artery in her neck had been severed. But there wasn’t much blood, even the tissue looked pale. Only the dark stains on her shirt gave vivid evidence of what should have been.

  And her screams still resonating in his head became deeper, hoarse…his own.

  Chapter Thirty

  Hannah watched Levi from the kitchen window as he hitched horse to buggy. She hadn’t realized how accustomed she’d become to Levi’s gaze brushing over her, settling on her like a gentle hand, until she felt the chill of his purposeful disinterest. In the days following her rejection of him, sending him away when he’d followed her to the cemetery, an unobservable and yet definite change had come over Levi.

  A memory of Levi helping a barn cat deliver a kitten came back to her. The momma cat panted and strained, wedging herself between the wall and a milking can. Levi pulled her out, cradled her in his arms, and eased the kitten from her body with such a tenderness and awe that the moment had creased Hannah’s heart. The tiny kitten mewed and the momma cat began licking her baby. Levi had grinned a mixture of happiness and relief, and Hannah smiled through tears at the miracle of life. But had there been more of a miracle in that moment than she’d been aware of?

  Now, outside the window,
Levi gave Mamm a hand as she climbed into the buggy, her scarf flapping in the stiff breeze, then he offered a smile to Katie who was accompanying Mamm on her trip to the Huffstetlers’. Mary was expecting a baby later in the month, and Levi handed Katie the basket of bread loaves and a cherry pie for the Huffstetlers’ growing family. Seeing the creases in Levi’s face, the warmth and kindness in his gestures toward her little sister, gave Hannah a pinch in her chest.

  At the last Sunday service, she’d seen Naomi Zeller offering Levi more iced tea during the noon meal. Naomi had been baptized last year and had been baking pies for the available men in their district in hopes of getting one to pay attention to her. She was already twenty-two. Could Levi be interested in Naomi? Or someone else? The pinch in Hannah’s chest compressed.

  As Mamm flicked the reins and the buggy went off down the lane, Levi’s gaze swerved sharply past the house where Hannah watched him and then cast sideways toward the barn. Was it purposeful in its hurry, not to seek her out, not to pursue her now? That concern for Levi pressed harder and tightened into a weighty nugget of guilt.

  Even though Hannah stuck to the house all morning, busying herself with chores—both regular and invented—her mind wandered toward the barn. Finally, even though she could think of plenty of excuses not to go, she carried a thermos of coffee to warm the men working in the chilly, late November weather.

  The air was crisp like a red, delicious apple. A cold, hard push by the wind tried to drive her back to the house, but she angled her head down and strove forward, feeling an icy bite on her cheeks. The sky was a pale gray, the threat of rain or even snow and ice sincere. The thermos warmed her hands as she traversed the hard-packed ground, a trail worn smooth by years and generations, from Dat and his father and his father’s father going about their chores and responsibilities. There was a comfort and security in walking the same, solid path. What had made her so resistant to what she’d always longed for?

  “Dat?” she called inside the doorway of the barn. The scent of hay was strong and made her nose twitch. It was warm and cozy with the shuffling and other movements of sheep and horses and milk cows. “I have coffee for you.”