Hannah filled the syringe again and squeezed its contents onto the gash. “Beautifully. If ever a bad decision turned out well, it’s happened for Mary. I just wish Owl’s Perch had a better situation for the medical issues that come up.”
“The Plain community is in need around here. I agree.”
“Every specific group requires targeted medical help they trust-moms of newborns and preschoolers, teens, elderly, athletes, cancer patients. The list is endless and includes the Amish, which is a subgroup all its own, in my opinion.”
“And where your heart lands in spite of not wanting it to?”
She cleared her throat, uncomfortable with just how easily he saw some things. “Yes.” She paused, trying to find some piece of emotional ground between betraying Martin and being near Paul. “This situation with Luke and Mary will be expensive, but fixing the actual issue is so simple. Time and time again issues that can take someone’s life have a relatively simple answer, as long as the patient is informed and willing.”
“That’s probably why you were drawn to becoming a nurse.”
She refused to look at him, but she couldn’t stop the smile crossing her lips. “I used to drive you crazy wanting to study your science books each summer.”
“It was fun for both of us. Do you still have that anatomy book Luke’s doctor gave you?”
She glanced up from his shoulder. “I’m never without it.” She pointed to her medical bag. “It’s in there.”
“The desire to be a nurse was always deep inside you, wasn’t it?”
“It sure looks that way.”
“Tell me about the expenses you mentioned.”
After laying the syringe to the side of the bowl, she dipped a wad of gauze into the solution and cleaned the area surrounding the wound. “She’ll have to check into the hospital before she goes into labor and have a C-section, but she’s in no danger.” She pulled a fresh piece of gauze out of its package and dried his skin. Showing him the container of butterfly bandages, she pulled out several. “These will probably do the trick, but stitches would do a better job of preventing scarring.” After laying the strips in her lap, she opened the tube of antibiotic cream and applied it.
“A scar makes no difference to me.” He stretched out his fingers several times. “Without insurance, the hospital and surgery will be really expensive for Luke to cover.”
She nodded as she wiped the cream off her fingers. “Still, after what they could have been facing, it’s a small price to pay. Mary gave her word she’d tell him everything before midnight tonight.” Hannah removed the backing from one side of the Band-Aid. “Is your hand asleep?”
“Barely.” He flexed his hand, opening and closing it.
She squeezed together the skin at the top of the gash and placed one thin-stripped bandage over it. “If there’s any redness or swelling, you need to be seen. If the tingling in your hand or arm continues for even a few hours, you need to be seen. If—”
Paul held up his hand. “I got it, Hannah.”
A quick glimpse into his eyes revealed a straightforward openness that startled her. Undemanding. Honest. And steady as the ticking of time. In spite of years of convincing herself otherwise, those things did define him.
How she wished they didn’t.
She looked away, gathering items into her medical bag. Being next to the man she’d once loved and intended to marry had every nerve in her body on edge. In his ways she saw why she’d carried feelings for him so long. The force of guilt over Martin ran through her, screaming warnings.
“You’re cold,” Paul said.
The evening air didn’t match the warmth of the kitchen she’d been in most of the day. She shrugged, and while she removed the backing to another butterfly bandage, Paul went to where Jacob had been lying and grabbed a fleece throw blanket. He folded it in a triangle, like a shawl, and placed it over Hannah’s shoulders, his warm hands resting there longer than necessary.
“Hannah,” Lissa called from across the yard. Sarah was beside her, holding her hand, standing rigid and staring at the ground.
Paul took a seat.
Hannah swallowed, reeling her emotions back in. “Yes?” She ignored the bit of trembling in her fingers and placed another butterfly bandage next to the first one, squeezing the skin together as a stitch would.
“Can I comed over there?”
Hannah glanced up. Her sister stood firm, as if an invisible line lay in front of her and she didn’t dare step over it without permission, but her eyes were on the palm of one hand as if she was confused by it. The young woman either still had a long way to go to find freedom, or she’d always have odd ways about her—or both. “Sure.”
Sarah released Lissa’s hand, and the little girl sprinted to Paul. “Did you cut yourself?”
“A little,” Paul answered.
“On what?”
“A nail sticking out of a board.”
“Maybe you need some cookies. I cut my leg a few weeks ago.” She sat on the ground and rolled up her pant leg. “See?”
Hannah continued putting on the bandages, eager to be done.
“Wow, that’s quite a battle scar.”
Sarah joined them, and Paul smiled a silent welcome.
Lissa beamed. “I broke my uncle’s glass shelves, and he didn’t even care. He said I was tougher than nails about the stitches too. On the way back from the hospital, he bought me some cookies ’cause Hannah weren’t home to bake them. She was here. He tooked really good care of me.”
A wrinkle creased Paul’s brows as he looked up at Hannah, but whatever was on his mind, he didn’t voice it.
Hannah smoothed Lissa’s hair back from her face. “I think someone is missing her uncle about now.”
Lissa nodded, the truth of Hannah’s words reflected in her eyes. “We goin’ home soon?”
“Tomorrow. First thing.”
Lissa stood and pulled a broken, lint-covered cookie out of her pocket. “You need a cookie?”
Paul chuckled. “Thank you.”
She dusted off her hands. “You’re welcome. Can I play on the tire swing, Hannah?”
Spotting Mary near the same area, Hannah nodded. “Yes.” She dumped the bowl of solution onto the grass and placed all the old gauze and wrappers in it.
Paul leaned back in his chair. “Martin is her uncle?”
“Yes, but he’s raising … we’re raising both her and Kevin.”
Silently Paul stared at the disfigured cookie.
Sarah took the bowl, her eyes darting from Hannah to Paul. She looked addled.
“I … I …” She ducked her head. “Never mind.”
Paul rose and slid the cookie into his pocket. “She’s leaving tomorrow, Sarah. If this is important to you, ask.”
The tautness across Sarah’s face made her appear unbalanced. “I … know … but it’d help me …” Sarah stopped talking midsentence and stared off into the distance.
“Sarah.” Paul spoke firmly.
She slowly pulled her eyes from the distance and looked at him.
He focused on her as if willing her to hear him. “Find your thought and express it. Don’t let fear steal your ability to live in the here and now.”
Sarah’s blank face slowly seemed to gain a more normal look, and she nodded. “If we could walk to where Rachel is buried …”
Hannah froze. She had a right to several things, all of which her sister was intruding upon. Privacy. An undisturbed burial place for Rachel. And her past left alone. Sarah hadn’t even known Hannah was pregnant until after the baby had been buried. Why did she need to see the grave?
Hannah rubbed her forehead. “It’s not marked at all. It’ll look like any other ground under a beech tree in the field.”
Sarah stared at one palm while rubbing invisible smudges off. “Paul wouldn’t even try going without your permission, and he didn’t think I should ask one of the few who know.”
His loyalty was disconcerting. She pulled the blanket ti
ghter around her shoulders. “Okay, I’ll take you.”
Sarah’s eyes grew large. “I … I want Paul to go.”
Of course she did. Pulling Paul into Hannah’s life seemed to be Sarah’s gift. Glad to be going back to Ohio first thing in the morning, Hannah gave a nod.
Wearing the small blanket draped like a shawl, Hannah walked in silence as Paul and Sarah talked about putting the past to rest. Paul’s words to Sarah wrapped around Hannah’s heart, and she recalled the various conversations she’d had with Paul since her first trip back to Owl’s Perch three weeks ago. In spite of her resolve to ignore his rock-steady and gentle ways, they fought for attention.
Dusk settled over the fields, and the birds had grown quiet. As they topped the ridge, golden-bronze leaves of the beech that hovered over Rachel’s grave came into sight. Hannah swallowed, no longer hearing the words that passed between Paul and Sarah.
But she could hear Paul’s voice, see him in yesteryear as clearly as she could turn and see him now.
He’d stood in front of her during one of their rare times together, turned her hand palm up, and kissed it. “Conversations make a relationship strong. Unfortunately, they won’t be a part of our relationship for a while. But we can clear away whatever weeds grow during this time if we hang tough and faithful”—he’d winked—“until May.” He’d squeezed her hand lovingly. “Eight months, Hannah. No problem for us, right?”
No problem.
Had they been given one small break in any area, it wouldn’t have been a problem, not for them. Unwilling for Paul to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside her, she kept her gaze steady on the ground as the three of them continued walking. Her heart suddenly felt too large for her chest as an epiphany hit. Paul had believed in them.
In her.
And he’d waited.
No longer able to resist, she lifted her eyes—tattered shirt, injured arm, blond hair, broad shoulders, and none too weary for the day’s work he’d just performed. His energetic steps defied the gentleness with which he spoke to Sarah.
How long had he waited?
It didn’t matter. He had Dorcas. And Hannah loved Martin. When she thought of how rare it was to find a quality man, it seemed pretty incredible that she’d managed to find two. Maybe good men weren’t as scarce as she’d thought.
Paul’s eyes moved to hers and lingered. A hint of a smile crossed his lips. She knew that smile, the one that wasn’t born so much from the joy of easy living as from the small pleasures life brought his way.
Edged with a fresh sense of betrayal of Martin, she turned her head without smiling. Scanning the fields, she remembered the whispers she’d heard the day Rachel was buried, calling Hannah’s name and whispering, “Kumm raus”—to come out.
In the midst of heartbreak, the voice had beckoned and hopelessness gave way. The next day she set out to find a woman she wasn’t sure existed. Even today she remained unsure if the vaguely familiar voice had been her inner self begging for freedom, or her imagination, or God’s own whispers, or something else. But at the time, it’d kept her from being swallowed in brokenness and had helped her find the courage to leave.
Sarah grabbed her arm, shaking all over. “Look.”
Less than fifteen feet ahead of them there appeared to be a grave marker, a headstone.
Sarah tightened her grip and dug her heels into the ground, stopping both of them. “I … I changed my mind. I want to go home.”
Paul placed his hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “We can’t believe our emotions over sound reason. Your emotions are terrified. Reason says there is nothing to fear.”
Sarah tugged on Hannah’s arm. “Let’s go home. I don’t like it. Maybe some ghost from the past—”
Paul cupped Sarah’s hand, making her ease up on her grip. “You’re hurting your sister.”
Sarah stopped squeezing but held on. “But who … who would have done such a thing?”
Hannah stared at the grave, goose flesh crawling over her whole body. The perimeter of the tiny grave was edged in white marble the size of bricks and the area surrounding the spot was meticulous, almost like a lawn.
“Someone who cares,” Paul offered.
Hannah wrapped her blanket-shawl tighter and moved forward. Sarah balked, and Hannah freed herself of her sister’s grip and took a step forward, a thousand memories and emotions ripping at her.
“I … I’m not ready. I can’t!” Sarah’s scream echoed over the field.
Ignoring her sister, Hannah went to the grave, stunned at what she saw. Thoughts of the many seasons—snowy winters, rainy springs, sweltering summers, and glorious falls—ran through her mind. Yet someone had been faithful. Behind her she could hear Paul talking in muted tones to Sarah.
The sense of loss seemed to be without end, but even so she could feel the trust she had in God to find a way to make up for it. That was part of who He was, wasn’t it? Thieves came in and stole, and God redeemed. But standing here right now, she didn’t feel redeemed, not when it came to certain things. She was redeemed by Him in a thousand ways—Martin, Lissa, Kevin, school, Dr. Lehman, the Tuesday quiltings, and her Amish friends. Still, the loss of a thousand hopes she’d had before the attack stood firm.
Paul eased up beside her, hands folded and reverent. He stared at the ground. “I’m sorry you dealt with this alone.”
If the idea that someone had been taking care of the grave wasn’t enough, his reaction made her heart stir. She’d thought all these years that he was … incapable of understanding. Yet as surely as she knew he’d once loved her as she had him, she understood the violence she’d experienced hadn’t happened just to her. It had happened to them.
Seems like I should have recognized this long before now.
With her heart beating wildly and her eyes misting, she held her hand out for his. “Nevertheless,” she whispered.
He placed his warm, rough hand inside hers, and there in the quiet fields ablaze in fall colors, an unexpected healing soothed her heart. The quiet between them left only the sounds of leaves rustling.
She knelt, releasing Paul’s hand. It seemed this odd journey back to Owl’s Perch had made her more ready to let go of the past than she’d ever been. She wasn’t running from it anymore. She had it in her to rise and move on. And the difference brought a sense of well-being she’d never known existed for anyone, and certainly not for someone who’d been assaulted.
Sarah approached the grave and knelt. “All this time I wanted the baby to be alive …”
Hannah put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Choose reality, Sarah. It’s the only place where strength and faith can begin to work.”
Sarah placed the palm of her hand over the grave.
Hannah squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “It’s time to let go and live.”
“You ever gonna do anything to hunt that guy down?” Sarah’s voice trembled.
Hannah closed her eyes, asking herself the same question. Cool air whipped through the trees, making the leaves sound like rain as they swirled across the ground. “No,” she whispered. “What was done happened over three years ago. I can’t identify him. I have no idea what type of car, nothing. The only way the police could start to track him down would be to take Rachel from her resting place so DNA testing could be done, but that would only help if he’s already been caught for another crime. I won’t do that to Rachel … or to me.” She rubbed her sister’s back. “Right or wrong, I choose to let go and move on. It’s the way we were taught, ya?”
Sarah nodded. “Ya.”
Hannah removed her arm. When she and Sarah began to shift in order to stand, Paul held one hand out for each of them. Sarah took his hand, and he helped her get to her feet. Hannah stood up on her own.
“I bet Daed’s been doing this, keeping the grave tended to.”
“Sarah …”
“No,” she interrupted, “you don’t know what he’s like when nobody’s looking. He wrote in a diary about watching for you to r
eturn. Pages of stuff, but when I found his secret stash, he burned everything, as if he could think it and feel it but he couldn’t stand anyone knowing.”
Unwilling to argue, Hannah began walking. The trip back toward the Esh home was done in silence. An odd sense of peace surrounded her more than the darkness of the night. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Sarah seemed to have found some resolution about life too.
But somebody had put time and money into edging the perimeter of the tiny grave in white marble.
Someone cared. It couldn’t be Daed, could it?
The sounds of hoofbeats made all three of them look up. Jacob stopped the cart beside them, looking directly at Hannah. “Mamm said I needed to see you first and then give you and Sarah a ride back to Luke and Mary’s. Mammi Annie said to tell you that Lissa wanted to go on home with her.”
Hannah removed the blanket and passed it to Paul. “I’m not heading back right now, but hop down, and let’s check out that shoulder.” She had Jacob do several slow range-of-motion moves. “On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, how does it feel?”
“About a three, maybe less.”
“I think you’re fine without an x-ray for now, but if the pain increases or your range of motion decreases, go in to be checked out. And all those things I just had you do with your arm, do them four times a day, slowly. Okay?”
“Sure. Thanks, Hannah. I guess being a nurse comes in handy, especially out here in the sticks, huh?”
Unsure if he’d understand that she wasn’t even a registered LPN yet, she opted not to try to explain it. “It did today.”
Sarah gave Hannah a hug. “I’m really tired.” She said nothing to Jacob, her old beau, as she climbed into the work cart. “You’ll wake me in the morning before you pull out?”
Hannah nodded. “Sure. Good night, Sarah.”
In the Esh yard, Matthew’s parents, along with a few other men and women, stood chatting in small groups. Kathryn was next to a driver’s car, saying good-bye to several men from her community, including a man Hannah recognized as Kathryn’s Daed. And the way one of the young men hovered near her, he was either Kathryn’s boyfriend or wanted to be.
Sisters of the Quilt Page 83
