by Leanna Ellis
She inched closer to him, touched his hand, and felt his fingers fold over hers possessively. “It is as much my fault as Jacob’s. I opened my heart…my mind…to him. I missed him so and wanted his return. I allowed this to happen.”
“No,” he whispered, “I allowed this to happen. I should have told you long ago about Jacob. But I didn’t think anyone would believe me. This is my fault. My father ran from the truth, but I should have owned up to it. I should have warned the bishops, the district, you. But I promised…”
“What would you have told them or me?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if they would have believed me either. My father was probably right about that.”
She slid her hand along his arm and shoulder, noting the slope and strength beneath the cloth and understanding finally the fibers of strength embedded in Levi’s character that they needed now to get through this.
“We cannot allow fear to rule our lives.” Levi slid his hands around her waist, holding her next to him in a no-compromise manner. “But that is exactly what I’ve been doing. I have feared living, loving, losing.”
Tears sprang to her eyes at the truth in his words. “Me too, Levi.” Her fingers tangled with the hair along his neckline. “I too kept my feelings inside out of fear that no one would understand. It kept me isolated. And alone. And vulnerable. But no more. Now we have each other.”
He cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her skin in a light caress. “It’s a tool used by a predator, getting a weak animal off from the herd where it is defenseless and more easily killed. Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.”
Hannah shivered at the implications that Jacob would harm her in such a way.
“Are you all right?” His hands squeezed her waist and she leaned into him, needing his warmth, and yet needing more…needing him.
The seconds pulsed as she relied on his strength, his warmth, and his steadiness. She thought back to that day, so long ago, when she awoke in Jacob’s arms. Many times Dat had asked what happened when she almost drowned and she never could remember. It was as if her memory had been wiped away like the chalkboards in school, the images smudged and smeared, blurry and unrecognizable. “Levi?”
His arms tightened around her, as if he refused to release her.
“What happened…that day I almost drowned?”
He smoothed a hand along the side of her face and lifted her chin until her gaze met his. His fingers followed the curve of her cheek, along her neck, and settled at her shoulder where he fiddled with the tie of her prayer kapp. “What do you remember?”
“Nothing. I don’t even remember going to the creek that day. I’ve tried. Really I have.”
He nodded. “All we could figure out was that you slipped on the rocks and hit your head. Jacob and I had gone there to fish, because it was a beautiful day, perfect for catching fish. As I crested the hill I saw you floating face down. Of course I didn’t know it was you.
“I hollered out for Jacob to get help.” His jaw tightened and his gaze drifted away, as if seeing it in his mind’s eye again. “I ran down to the creek and jumped in. I should have taken off my coat or shoes first because they weighed me down, but I reckon I wasn’t thinking clearly. And of course the water filled my shoes, tugged on my coat, and made pulling you out twice as hard. I got you to the bank but the mud pulled at me, trapped my feet. Jacob took you from my arms.” His voice stretched and cracked on those words as if he feared the same thing would happen again.
He drew a slow, shuddering breath. “It took me a few minutes to strip off my coat and shoes and join Jacob on the bank. You were lying on the grass. Not breathing.”
She felt her breath trapped in her lungs then, as she listened to Levi’s side of the story and imagined it so differently than the way Jacob had described it. “And Jacob,” she ventured, “what was he doing?”
“Panicking. He didn’t know what to do. Finding a girl in the creek, unconscious and not breathing is not something we came across every day. He feared you were already dead. And I have to admit, you looked that way—all pale and still.”
She sensed Levi was trying to protect Jacob in a way. Even with all they were facing, turning his back on his brother, divulging the truth, was not easy. “But you didn’t think so?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
When he grew silent, Hannah pushed him with, “What did you do, Levi?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “If you were alive still, then I knew time was critical. But Jacob was…”
She waited, watched Levi’s lips twist as if trying to figure out the best way to say it. Finally she offered a suggestion. “Not helping?”
“More in the way,” he rephrased her words. “I shoved him aside. Sent him to get help, but I’m not sure he did. He was frozen, unable to move, but I wasn’t aware of anything but you. And trying to get you breathing. I was terrified. Scared I would cause you more harm than good, frightened I didn’t really know what to do. But I remembered when my father helped birth a colt and it wasn’t breathing, and he had to take action to help it. So I turned you on your side, pounded your back, pushed against your chest, tipped your head back, and gave you my breath.”
His words made her tremble.
His blue eyes darkened to the color of the sky at dusk. “All the while I was praying. Praying God would save you.”
Those words told her what she needed to know. Jacob had never said that in his tale of her rescue; he’d always given himself the credit. But Levi was different; Levi could be trusted. She rested a hand against his heart, felt the rapid beat pumping hard against her palm. “And the good Lord did. You did.
“When you coughed and spit out water, I fell away, exhausted, trying to catch my own breath. And Jacob scooped you up and cradled you in his arms.”
“And that’s my first memory.” Jacob. But as she peered into that long ago moment and examined it, she remembered Jacob’s hair was dry, as were most of his clothes. How then could he have pulled her from the creek? “All this time…I believed…” She lifted her chin toward Levi. “I wish I had known the truth.”
“So do I.”
But it wasn’t in Levi to brag about his actions, and so he hadn’t said anything. Hannah raised up on tiptoes, angled her mouth toward Levi’s, and whispered, “Thank you, Levi.”
He closed the gap, pressed his lips to hers. The textures brushed and blended, folded over each other, and swept away any doubts. It was Levi: Levi who loved her, Levi who held her, protected her, cherished her. He could be counted on. He was dependable. And she clung to him now.
When he pulled back, only an inch away, his breath and her own still mingling and crystallizing in the cold night air, he whispered, “I love you, Hannah Schmidt. I have for a long while now.”
“I know.” Her heart fluttered and raced, the beats growing stronger and more sure. “And I love you, Levi Fisher.”
His eyes contracted. “Do you love me because I saved you?”
“I love you because you are the best man I have ever known. I love you because you never gave up on me. I love you because that’s all I know to do. Because you are willing to risk everything. To save me from the creek. And to save me now.” She smoothed her hand along his chest and shoulder, luxuriating in the solidness of him, the sturdiness of him, his faith.
And he kissed her again, his arms tightening, banding around her waist, holding her as if he would not let go. Breathless and full of hope, she felt herself respond to his kiss in ways she’d only imagined.
But before anything went further than it should, he set her firmly back on her own feet, inching them apart, his pupils dilated, his breath harsh, his chest hot to the touch, and she knew what she must do. No longer were there shadows of doubt or dark areas of resistance in her heart. Her path was clear, a l
ight of truth leading the way. She didn’t believe Jacob would harm her. But would he hurt Levi? She’d seen the way Akiva had responded when she’d spoken Levi’s name. She hadn’t understood then but she did now.
“Let me take you away from here, Hannah.”
“And go where, Levi? How far would we have to run? Would he follow?” She shook her head. “No. We must face this fear. We cannot outrun it.”
His nostrils flared slightly and his jaw set. “Then I will go. I will tell Jacob—”
“No.” Her tone was stronger than she felt. “You do not have to risk anything else, Levi. I will go to Jacob—Akiva—and tell him I have chosen another. You. This life. Not his.”
“You can’t go alone.”
“But it is my problem—”
“Our problem,” he corrected.
“I allowed it, and I must stop it now.”
A frown tugged his brows downward. “How will Jacob react?”
“He will not be happy but he will go away. He’s given me a choice and he will honor it.”
“I am not so sure.”
“I am.” She smoothed her hand over Levi’s chest in an effort to calm his heart, his questions, his doubts. “Jacob will accept my choice since he never had one. He cannot help what he is, or what he has become. It was not his choice.”
“It is always a choice, Hannah. Always.”
She stared at her hand, solidly against his chest, and he covered it with his own. He was right. She’d made small, seemingly inconsequential choices, choices in the dark of night and secrecy of her own bedroom, choices that had allowed this problem. Maybe Jacob had invited the trouble too. What did Mamm always say? “Don’t go looking for trouble or you’ll surely find it.” Jacob had found trouble. As she had. And he had brought that trouble to Promise. “This,” she said firmly, “is my choice now.
“I could not bear it if something happened to you. Jacob will not hurt me. But you—” She couldn’t tell him of the hate she’d seen in Akiva’s eyes when aimed at Levi.
“Roc believes—”
“Roc is but an Englisher. What does he know of this? Of us?”
“He understands what Jacob has become better than we do.” Levi bracketed her shoulders. “Jacob must be destroyed. And Roc will help us.”
Shocked, she stared at Levi. “How can you say that? About your own brother?”
“Don’t you think it’s killing me to do so?”
And she knew it was. “I will not let you harm Jacob. Just let him go, Levi.”
“Not if he’s going to harm others. How could I live with myself then? I have to make a stand and end it once and for all. Don’t you see I can’t protect you both? Not anymore. It’s you or Jacob, and since he’s no longer really Jacob, then the choice is easy.”
“It is not a choice for you to make.”
Chapter Sixty-two
Rachel lay down on the bed, carefully, gently, fearfully, and lifted her feet onto a pillow, all the while breathing in and out, slow and steady. Her hand rested on her lower belly. Not much had changed yet, not much rounding with the baby, as it was still early yet. She’d only skipped one of her times of the month.
She felt no pain, which she figured was a good sign. Yes, of course, nothing unusual, except the gas bubbles she’d been experiencing for the past few days. She should go to sleep and in the morning it would all be better. But that small amount of blood frightened her. That’s all she’d seen in her underpants, just a smear. Could she have been wrong about being pregnant? But Mamm had agreed with her, assessing her symptoms and confirming she was indeed expecting. She closed her eyes and prayed for her unborn child, her lips barely moving, but tears dampened her lashes and trailed down her cheeks, pooling along her neck.
Time seemed to pass slowly or quickly; she wasn’t sure which. She lost count of how many breaths she drew in and out until the back door opened. The small cottage they shared was attached to the back of Josef’s parents house, where his grandparents had lived. Hearing Josef usually gave her heart a happy jolt as she anticipated the evenings when their chores were finished and they changed into their night clothes and snuggled under the blankets, his hands eager, his body warm, hers responding.
But her heart reacted with uncertainty. What would she tell her husband? Should she share her fears? How could he help her? Would he be disappointed? Anxious? Would he blame her?
The pop and whoosh heralded the pale yellow glow from the gas lamp in the kitchen as he rummaged around for something to eat. He’d stayed in the barn later than usual, tending a horse with the colic. She should get up and greet him, but a still, quiet voice whispered in her heart to stay put. Rest. Relax. Pray.
“Rachel?” Josef called to her. He came to a halt in the doorway, his shoulders filling up the space as he stood there a moment while his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. “Rachel.” His tone was gentle, unsure.
“I’m here.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Her voice dipped lower than normal in an attempt to fight back tears. She squeezed her eyes closed. If she looked at him, if she looked into those concerned blue eyes, she would shake apart. Her hands clutched each other in an effort to suppress the fear pulsing through her.
His boots clomped against the wooden floor, creating a hollow sound, and then she felt his weight dipping into the edge of the bed. His leg pressed against her arm. It was not until that moment she felt the chill in the room and scooted closer to his warmth. He covered her hands with his larger one. “Are you sick?”
“Just awful tired.” She had been tired a lot lately, but Mamm had said that was normal while carrying a babe.
“It’s the baby, ja?”
She opened her eyes, raising her gaze to meet his, and his features changed, wavered as tears filled her eyes again.
His hand tightened on hers. With his other, he wiped away the tears wetting her cheeks. “What is it, Rachel? What is wrong?”
“I should rest.” She patted his hand and prayed harder. “That is all.”
“Are you unhappy then?”
She shook her head, biting her lip to still the trembling. “I’ve never been happier.”
He studied her for a moment. “Should I get your mamm then? Would she be a comfort to you?”
Mamm. Yes. She would know if the baby was in trouble. She would advise her what to do. And if she said to go to an English doctor then she would without question. She would. Whatever it took. “Yes. That would be awful good.”
He nodded, traced the curve of her cheek. “I will be back shortly. You will be all right, ja?”
“I will be fine.”
He stood, hesitating, then bent back down and pressed his lips to hers. His beard was filling out and growing, showing he was now a married man. The kiss warmed her and she lifted her arms around his neck, pulled him back toward her. But he braced a hand against the bed and pulled back. “I will be back quick. No dancing till then.”
She laughed at his attempt at humor, and the tension in the room scattered, banished to the corners by hope, faith, and love.
Chapter Sixty-three
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here we will sit, and let the sound of music
Creep in our ears: soft stillness, and the night,
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Akiva sat on the bank of the creek and listened to the burbling water moving over the smooth rocks, which somehow reminded him of Shakespeare and the musical quality of his words. The moon’s hazy light made the fog shimmer and distort the trees into giants with arms stretched out wide, as if offering up prayers to the stars. His prayer had been to be with Hannah again…forever, and he was so close to that reality that he could taste the sweetness of the moment.
He stretched out his mind and called to her. Hannah. Come to
me.
Rising, he began the walk toward the cemetery where he knew she would meet him. She would decide tonight. He sensed it the same way he could smell the thick flow of blood. He needed no light, as his eyes were those of a predator’s, sharper in the dark than in the light. Fleeing from his approaching footsteps, rabbits and tiny critters moved through the dry grass under brush or into holes.
He imagined Hannah lifting her arms to him, tilting her neck to give him free access, and that first sweet taste of warm, pulsing blood. He had to be careful, he had to draw the life from her slowly, leaving only enough to keep her heart beating, and then he would offer her a taste of forever. Which meant he needed to feed first, to have a sacrifice ready for her, so she could draw life from it and feel the surge of power, the strength forming deep within her, the change overtaking her.
It would come quickly, this strength. Her eyes would darken, maybe even widen with surprise at the rush. And it was a rush, better than any drug he’d ever taken. Then they would be together. Forever.
From far away, he heard the clippity-clop of horse’s hooves on the pavement. Akiva went very still. The metallic sound of horseshoes against blacktop came closer; the jingle of the halter sounds were loud in the stillness beneath the solid moon. Someone was out late, probably some young man courting his love. The steady rhythm of the hoof beats echoed through the cold night air as fog floated above the ground, curling about his ankles. The clip-clop, clip-clop began to recede, and Akiva veered toward the sound, an answer to his need for curbing his appetite. He would feast only enough to render his prey helpless and then he’d give Hannah the rest for her first meal.
Taking his place in the middle of the road, he waited and watched for the yellow lantern light on the buggy. It grew larger as it approached, the horse’s hooves striking the pavement louder too, then the clippity-clops slowed. “Whoa.”
Akiva stood still, not approaching. Not yet. Patience was as much a part of the hunt as the chase.
