“I’ve never seen you hysterical. Justifiable anger is not the same.”
She preferred sarcasm over being patronized. “Your idea?”
“When you left, Mary gave me the ‘Past and Future’ quilt. Sarah didn’t like that it came to me, but I kept it anyway.” He shrugged. “Since you designed it and sewed a lot of it with cloth from Sarah’s and your childhoods, she might find that comforting for a while. I have it in my car.”
“How many years did it take you to learn to make a conversation so generic? And why did Mary pass the quilt to you?”
“Generic?”
“You use odd wording, which causes a lack of clarity in what you mean—which is your point, I’m sure. ‘Comforting for a while …’ Does that mean you’re returning it to me? If you’re going to say something, make it clear.”
“Noted.”
She stared at him. Giving him that one-word response earlier hadn’t bothered her at all; receiving it annoyed her. “And you didn’t answer about the quilt.”
“Mary gave it to me when I was dealing with the shock of your being gone.”
“Gave it?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s in your car?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it? That’s all the explanation I get?”
“I’m hopeful you’ll take what I’ve said and not keep probing for answers.” Paul’s shoulders were square and his stance unmovable, in spite of the mildness in his words. It was a part of him that she remembered well—respectful noncooperation—and no one ever seemed as good at it as Paul Waddell.
She laughed softly. “I guess you’ve earned a break. The quilt can be a visual reminder that I’ll always be a part of her future just as I was a part of her past.”
“Perfectly worded. You tell Sarah while I go after it.”
Martin lay on his bed with the remote control in his hand, flipping television stations at an annoying rate, even to himself. The large red numerals on the digital clock glared the fact that it was past midnight. And he hadn’t heard from Hannah yet.
Paul Waddell.
Disgust rolled through him. Surely this brief encounter—whatever it was—wouldn’t resurrect any old feelings she’d once had for him. It’d taken way too long for Hannah to find peace and for her heart to be free of Paul. When she had begun showing an interest in Martin, he’d made her wait until her twentieth birthday before they went on their first date—mostly because the idea of being past his midtwenties and dating a teenager crossed a moral line that U.S. laws didn’t cover.
Now he was at home with his niece and nephew and their part-time nanny while Hannah was somewhere in Owl’s Perch with Paul Waddell’s cell phone in her pocket. He should have gone with her.
Tempted to call again, he jolted when the phone beside him rang. The caller ID indicated it was Hannah. “Hey.”
“Hi. Did I wake you?”
“No, I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’d be upset if the tables were turned, but dealing with him was unavoidable.”
The fact that she gave credence to his feelings and didn’t try to brush off the incident as nothing diluted his concerns. “You okay?”
“I will be when I’m back with you and the children … tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah. That’s sort of why what’s-his-name had my phone by accident. It was my fault, but the good news is Sarah’s at a mental health facility and I’m leaving for Ohio in the morning. I’d be tempted to leave even at this hour, but I had a flat today, and I’m not traveling at night on a spare.”
“A flat?”
“By itself, it may have been the easiest part of my day after I arrived in Owl’s Perch. I just want out of here.”
Grateful for the sincerity of her tone, he felt more like himself again. “I want you to take the car in tomorrow morning and have a new set of tires put on before you head home.”
“It only needs one.”
“If it got one flat, they must all need replacing. Just use the credit card, and I’ll take care of the bill.”
“I’ll get one new tire and pay for it myself, but I appreciate your generosity.”
He resisted the desire to challenge her reasoning, figuring she didn’t need him to debate with her at the end of a rough day. Besides, she’d still do it her way, and he’d end up feeling like the bad guy for trying to take care of her. He’d come up with an excuse to use her car one day next week and have the tires replaced; she’d never know.
Martin changed the subject. “You’ll be glad to know it’s a teachers’ workday tomorrow, so Kevin and Lissa will be off all day.”
She cleared her throat, and he wondered if she was crying. “That sounds like heaven.”
“You have had a rough go of it if you think those two are paradise,” he teased.
“But you always manage to be a good uncle anyway.” He heard her yawn. “I’m at the hotel and bushed. I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”
“Sleep well, phone girl.”
“Good night.”
Golden rays of the new day’s sun streaked through the cloud-covered morning as Hannah pulled into Mary’s driveway She hadn’t planned on coming by this morning, but she couldn’t leave Owl’s Perch without more time with her friend. She had even dreamed about her last night. However she had managed to squelch her feelings for Mary in order to begin life anew in Ohio, they’d resurfaced with a tenacious desire.
As Hannah got out of her car, she spotted Mary on her knees in the garden.
Hannah chuckled. Potato-harvesting time.
Wishing she’d worn something more appropriate for working a garden, she shielded her eyes from the sunlight and walked toward her. “Are you praying for some help while you’re down there?”
Mary jumped and then laughed. “Well, look at you … all cleaned up.”
Her words were kind, as they’d been yesterday, but something in her eyes said Hannah was a stranger. On the road yesterday she’d seemed very open, and they’d talked with ease, but the topic had stayed on Sarah and all that had taken place concerning her since Hannah had left. But standing here now, Hannah felt a wall, a thick one—one she wanted removed if it was possible.
“Kann Ich helfe?” Hoping that reverting to Pennsylvania Dutch would make a difference, Hannah offered to help.
“Bischt du zu draus in da Welt?”
Hannah should have known she looked “too out in the world,” too worldly, for Mary to be comfortable with her—driving a car, wearing jewelry, attending college, having buttons run the length of her pale yellow skirt.
Hannah covered her heart. “Ich bin net zu draus in da Welt.” She tapped her fingers over her heart, trying to reassure Mary that she wasn’t too out in the world. “Not here, Mary.”
Still on her knees, Mary studied her, clearly torn between this different-looking Hannah and the friend she’d once loved dearly.
Mary patted the soil beside her. “Kumm. Loss uns blaudere bis unsrer Hatzer verbinne.” Come. Let’s talk until our hearts unite.
Hannah knelt. She lifted Mary’s hand and pressed it against her cheek. “Denki.”
Mary’s brows knit, and she hugged Hannah tight. “Mei liewi, liewi Hannah.” My dear, dear Hannah.
Those words seemed to cause the wall between them to completely fall. If it hadn’t, Hannah knew it could, if they put a little effort into it. Why had she let her fears and maybe even her ego cause her to hide her whereabouts so completely? Before she left today, she’d make sure Mary knew how very sorry she was for doing such a selfish thing.
At the head of the rectangular table, Martin went down the workload list in great minutia with his project managers. The weekly event often threatened to cause death by boredom, but the process was necessary.
“Doug, how long until the foundation on SWG is ready to be poured?”
“Depends on when the surveyors get the staking done.”
Martin turned to Alex.
Alex shrugged. “We can have that done Thursday, but Kirk’s requested a walkabout with you and Amy before he signs off on the plans.”
Martin nodded. “What’s a good time for us to do that, Amy?”
“Christmas.”
The men chuckled. Amy’s presence always added a bit of flavor to the dull workload process. Everyone in the room and their significant others were headed to Hawaii over Christmas. His employees and Amy worked really hard throughout the year, arriving early, leaving late, and helping this company be a leader in its field. “Anything just a tad sooner, like this afternoon or tomorrow?”
“Sure, either one really, but, uh …” She flopped the pen around on the stack of papers in front of her. “How rough is the terrain on this site?”
Doug tapped his middle finger on the table over and over again. “Jeans and a flannel shirt, definitely. And boots, without heels.”
“That rules Amy out,” Alex said. “Now if she could wear those black leather pants and those spike heel boots …”
“The thorns would rip my leather pants. But thanks, Alex.”
Martin had no idea if she really owned leather pants, but he doubted it. As the only female at these weekly meetings, she took a good bit of teasing.
“Amy?” Martin asked, trying to veer the conversation back to its point.
She folded her hands. “I’ll wear old jeans tomorrow, but if I break a nail, I want an extra day in Hawaii.”
Alex whistled and pointed out the plate-glass window.
Hannah.
Martin’s heart rate increased, and he suppressed the goofy grin that threatened to cover his face. She stood just outside her vehicle, a blue green dress following her hourglass figure as she repinned her mounds of curly hair back into a clasp. It was a vain effort some days, but she didn’t wear it down in public.
“Easy, Alex. She’s taken.”
Alex looked from Hannah to Martin. “Are we looking at ‘phone girl’?”
Martin had forgotten that Alex hadn’t met Hannah. Amy hadn’t either, but the others in the room had come to a few of the band gatherings throughout the year. Martin nodded. “Hannah Lawson is her real name, and if she comes in, try to act refined.”
Alex shook his head. “Is she legal? I mean she looks young … for someone your age.”
Doug scrunched a piece of paper and tossed it across the table. “Cut the nonsense. You’re looking at the mother of his future children.”
Ignoring the stabs at humor, Martin rose. “Doug, take over for me.”
Martin left the room and hurried down the corridor, heading for the closest exit. He went out the side door and started talking as he walked toward her. “Wow, you drove to Ohio and my office in the same week.”
She met him halfway on the sidewalk, a smile highlighting her rosy cheeks and flawless complexion. “A woman of endless talents.”
She slid her arms around his shoulders, and he wrapped her in his arms. Her body trembled. “Hey, you okay?”
“Sure.”
But he wasn’t convinced, and with Hannah he might not ever know.
He held her tighter, grateful she was home. “Have you been to see Kevin and Lissa already?”
She put a bit of space between them and gazed up at him. “No, I came here first.”
“Really? I’m impressed.” He cradled her face in his hands, wanting to kiss her. “If we weren’t being watched …” He nodded toward the window.
She tilted her head. “You care what they think about kissing me?”
“No, but I figured you did.”
“Ah, always the perfect gentleman.”
Man, how he tried—not just because of who she was in all her Old Order Amish innocence, but also because of how much younger she was. Her age was the only reason he hadn’t pushed her harder to agree to marry him. But he was sure she’d say yes when he asked again as they shared a romantic alfresco meal at sunset on the beach in Hawaii.
Her smile wobbled, and something he’d seen before, but never could define, reflected in her eyes as she took a ragged breath. “How about if I pick up a few groceries—maybe fresh fruit, a loaf of deli bread, and a rotisserie chicken—and you take off early? All four of us can go to the cabin before I have to leave for class tonight.”
“The cabin?” He laughed and shook his head. His million-dollar home with her own private cottage out back did nothing for the girl, but the scant cabin she’d lived in until the needs of Kevin and Lissa made it convenient for him to get her out of there held her heart ransom. “Wouldn’t having a picnic here at the office be easier?”
She poked out her bottom lip, mocking a pout. Since she hadn’t requested this in a long time, surely he could stand one night of it. “Whatever makes you happy, phone girl.”
She tilted her chin in that way that said her will was set, her resolve complete. But why was this appearing now?
“You.” She placed her hands over his. “You and Kevin and Lissa make me happy.”
Her uncharacteristic declaration meant more to him than she could possibly understand as a twenty-year-old. He’d navigated living single for too long. Dates were easy to come by, but finding someone who made life more than it was without that person wasn’t as effortless. By the time Hannah entered his life, he’d begun to fear it would never happen for him.
Unable to resist, he slowly kissed her cheek several times, breathing in the aroma of everything that made him connect to life in a way that work and financial success couldn’t match. He eased his lips across her warm, soft skin until he found her lips. “I love you, Hannah.”
Matthew lit a kerosene lantern and carried it with him as he descended the stairway to the ground floor of his home. The rooster crowed loudly, even though the first rays of light weren’t yet visible. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the sound of a gentle rain against the windows kept rhythm with the grandfather clock in the hallway. He set the lantern on the coffee table and laced his black boots.
Muted sound and movement in the dark kitchen caught his attention. Once he finished the last knot, he grabbed the lamp and headed toward the sound.
When the lantern cast its glow across the room, Kathryn’s attention turned from the stove. “Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?”
He shook his head and set the lantern on the table. “What are you doin’ up?”
“Same as you, I suppose. Can’t sleep.” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and laid it across her shoulder. “What is it about death that disrupts everything to do with life—hunger, sleep, clear thought?”
Matthew eased into a chair. Kathryn wrapped a potholder around the handle of the coffeepot that sat on the eye of the gas stove. She lifted the pot, silently asking if he wanted a cup. He shook his head, uninterested in food or drink.
She poured herself a cup, dumped some sugar and milk into it, and took a seat across from him. “It’ll get easier, Matthew. You have to trust in that, even as these days carry enough pain and guilt to make you believe otherwise.”
It was nice to sit in a quiet room with someone who understood. She’d been the only person to acknowledge his sense of guilt. If she hadn’t, he might not have understood the thing that seemed to cover him with blame so thick he thought he’d suffocate.
Unable to tolerate the back of the chair touching him, Matthew propped his forearms on the table. “I saw Hannah night before last. She said to tell ya hello.”
Kathryn smiled. “I remember seeing her at the annual school sales when we were kids, but I bet I haven’t seen her in six or so years. How is she?”
“Different.”
“Aren’t we all.” It wasn’t a question, and Kathryn was right. She wrapped her hands around the coffee mug. “We dress and live the same basic way as our ancestors, and yet the changes and temptations that war inside us must rival that of the Englischers.”
The softness of her voice, her hope laced inside truth caused Matthew to feel something beyond his confusion for a moment. “But I always t
hought our sense of community and devotion to the simple life gave us the strength to resist the temptation to doubt or give up.”
“And now you’re not sure it does?”
Matthew ran his hands across the well-worn oak table his greatgrandfather had built. “Can I ask you a question?”
She gazed into his eyes, and he noticed for the first time the golden radiance to her brown eyes. “Always.”
Feeling welcome to be himself and to share the tormenting thoughts that ripped at him, he was grateful she’d agreed to stay on for a while. “What happened that day on the pond, and how did ya cope?”
Slowly her hands crossed the table, and she slid them over his, assuring him she’d answer in a few moments. After a bit she withdrew her hands and rose from her chair. In spite of his declining coffee a few minutes ago, she poured him a cup.
After setting it in front of him, she took a seat and placed the pot on a folded dishtowel on the table. “Abram and me and Daed had been at the pond since before sunrise, catching fish and singing loudly because the harvest was over and we were in the mood to play. Daed was sitting on the dock, and me and Abram were in a dinghy in the middle of our acre pond.” She paused, turning the mug around and around as if lost in the memory. “Abram was being silly, rocking the boat while I screamed like a girl.”
Matthew laughed softly. “Females tend to do that … sound like a girl.”
“They both thought it was funny.” A smile edged her lips. “The water sparkled, and their laughter echoed. And then everything changed. Green, murky water surrounded me. The boat had tipped, dumping out both of us. I didn’t even know which way was up until I saw Abram’s feet kicking near the surface of the water. I swam that way, feeling like my lungs would burst before I reached the top. I came to the surface coughing and struggling to get air. He was screaming for me to help him. Daed was on the dock, peeling out of his shoes and screaming for me to swim for the dock.” She paused. “I headed for Abram, and Daed screamed my name, pointing his finger at me. He said, ‘You obey me this instant!’ And I did. He dove into the water, but by the time he got to Abram, he’d gone under, and Daed couldn’t find him until it was too late.” She lifted her gaze and stared into Matthew’s eyes. “While I was making my way to the dock and Daed was swimming out to him, Abram called to me over and over again. There I was, a twelve-year-old girl, flailing in the water, trying desperately to get to the dock so my Daed wouldn’t be mad at me.” She rubbed the temples of her head as if it hurt. “I hated myself for a long time, wishing …” She took a sip of her coffee, looking lost in pain.
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