Closer to the house, Hannah’s father glanced up from the men he was chatting with but then acted like he didn’t see her. She and Paul walked toward the side yard, where a kerosene heater shed light on a circle of chairs. The tables looked barren and well-worn without the fabric or food covering them. Mary, Luke, and Matthew sat around the heater, talking. Three empty chairs sat in the circle, probably an invitation for her and Paul. If Hannah had her intuition going right, the other chair was for Kathryn.
Of all the day-to-day events that’d taken place while she’d been gone, Matthew and Elle’s breakup was probably the most surprising. But Matthew seemed at peace with it, maybe even relieved about it.
More than ready for a few quiet moments alone, Hannah turned to Paul. “I’m going inside. I’m sure there’s more I can help with in the kitchen.”
“Thank you for doing that for Sarah.”
The distant whispers of just how in step she and Paul could be circled inside her. She didn’t respond to him, as guilt concerning Martin nibbled at her.
The house appeared empty as she entered it. Void of earlier voices, the kitchen felt secure in ways it couldn’t before. The lowing of cows waiting to be fed drifted through the slightly open window and across the room. A kerosene lamp on the windowsill above the sink added a glow not much brighter than two electric night-lights. She moved to the faucet and turned it on, letting the water get warm before she filled the sink and squirted dishwashing liquid into it. As she continued washing the pans, women occasionally came in and gathered their clean dishes. Most of them spoke a reserved farewell on their way out, and she returned it. If they didn’t speak, she respected their silence and held her tongue.
The lantern sputtered as it began to run out of fuel. Through the window, she saw several families climb into their buggies and head out, leaving only one more buggy waiting for its owner—her Daed’s. But her mother was sitting inside it.
“Hannah.”
Her muscles tightened at the sound of her father’s voice. Turning her head to face him, she held her sudsy hands over the edge of the sink. “Yes?”
Shadows angled this way and that as the flames of the lamp wavered. Her father stood there, looking as if he had something to say but couldn’t. She grabbed a towel off the peg beside the sink and dried her hands.
He eased into the room, crunching the brim of his hat in his hands. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”
“Yes.” She stepped away from the sink.
“You … you’ll write to your mother more this time, ya?”
How could so much lie between two people that they couldn’t manage to say anything worthwhile? “Yes.”
“Good.” He started to leave, but with his head ducked and his shoulders stooped, he didn’t appear to have said what he came to say.
“Daed?”
He turned, staring at her as if he still wasn’t sure who she was.
“I was innocent.”
He wiped his forehead with the back of his thumb. “None of us are ever innocent. I thought you’d understand that much by now.”
She fought to keep her shoulders back and chin up. His words were both true and a lie. But he’d never see his part, only hers. Is that what he came in to tell her, that regardless of all he’d accused her of that she hadn’t done, she still bore the mark of a sinner?
And with his words spoken, her father turned to leave the house.
“Daed?”
He faced her again.
“The grave site … it … it’s been taken care of …”
He clenched his jaw. “I’m not as disloyal as you seem to think.”
“We’re all disloyal. I thought you’d understand that by now.”
He stood firm, staring at her. “You win, Hannah. I haven’t been able to stay a step ahead of you since you turned fifteen. I haven’t done anything right. But as God is my witness, I tried.”
“I wasn’t up-front about Paul, and maybe I was wrong about that, but you knew the truth of what’d happened the night of the attack, yet somehow later on you completely justified abandoning me. No, worse, you turned on me and brought the church leaders with you.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but then, without another word, he walked out, pulling the door closed behind him.
The door eased open again, and Paul stepped inside. “You okay?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Always.” She cleared her throat, gaining control of her emotions.
“Everyone’s gone but Luke, Mary, Matthew, Kathryn, and us. Matthew’s parents walked to the Yoder place to look at some lumber John has stored that could be used for rebuilding. I guess Mary will talk to Luke soon, and we’ll call it a night.” He walked to the table and grabbed a slice of homemade bread from the cutting board. “Since you’re leaving tomorrow and we may never meet up again under relaxed and friendly circumstances, I was hoping you’d join us outside.” He breathed in the aroma from the slice of bread and gazed up at her. He’d always said he could tell whether homemade bread was made by her hands or not, because he could smell the heat, like the fires from her soul.
Turning her back to him, she reached for a clean pan and then began drying it. They’d walked to the grave and shared something she could never share with another human; he understood things about her no one else ever would. And he forgave her in ways she hadn’t known she needed until it was given to her, freely. But now she needed distance.
“I think it would do Sarah a lot of good if you could return and help her find a passion of some sort. She’s too old not to have a job that brings her a sense of self-esteem and satisfaction—something she can look at and feel good about.”
Hannah faced him. “Like I told Sarah, I can’t.”
He sat on the edge of the table and propped one foot on a chair. “Yeah, I know, you’re too busy until after the first of the year. But maybe after the snows are gone? I think it’s important. It’d be better if it could be done before winter sets in, but if you can’t, you can’t.”
“What exactly did you have in mind?”
“I wish I had a clue, but I’m confident you can think of something.”
She leaned against the sink. “Sarah should have met Zabeth and lived in that cabin with her.”
“Ah, she smiles at the thought of it.” Paul’s lopsided grin made her remember a hundred others. “What was she like?”
A male voice startled her. Thinking the voice came from the front of the house, she went to the dark foyer and peered out the open front door. Paul followed her.
Luke stood at the foot of the steps. “What were you thinking?”
Mary smoothed her hands over her protruding tummy, her eyes locked on the ground. “I was afraid you’d leave if we couldn’t marry right away. Your father left his roots, and Hannah too, and you were angry with your Daed and the church leaders for how they treated your sister, and antsy and talking about going into Lancaster to work and—”
“Those are your excuses for lying to me?” Luke interrupted her. “Telling me the doctor gave you a clean bill of health? You told me—”
She held up her hand, stopping him from saying more. “I know, but I lied to myself. I thought I was trusting God when I was using that as an excuse to get what I wanted. I … I didn’t want to lose you.”
Hannah eased the door shut, stopping it just short of clicking. From inside the house, she could still hear their voices, but she tried not to listen. “Those words are a red flag, too often spoken right before lies and cover-ups.”
“Look at me, Hannah.”
“What?”
“If you’re talking about yourself, it’s time to let it go,” Paul whispered. “Just let it go.”
The weight of everything seemed to close in—the dark, the empty house, the closeness, the whispers between them. Unable to find her voice and void of knowing what to say if she could, she just stood there, staring at him. Did he feel it too?
He motioned toward the kitchen. “I … I think I’ll go out the
side door and meet up with Matthew.”
He turned, leaving her alone.
Guilt hounding her, Hannah moved back to the kitchen, now completely dark since the lamp was out of fuel, and sat in a ladder-back chair. She couldn’t return to the Yoders just yet. She’d told Mary she’d stay close to answer questions Luke might have. Otherwise she’d have returned to Ohio earlier. She hoped he’d have questions and not just anger.
Hannah rested her forehead against her fingertips. That’s where she should be, in Ohio with Martin, not here building bridges with Paul.
Matthew came in the side door and motioned for her. “Luke’s asking for ya.”
She willed the confusion to slide into its hidden place, assured it’d find its way free to be wrestled with later. “Okay.” She rose and silently walked out the back door, thoughts of both Martin and Paul lingering.
Kathryn, Paul, Luke, and Mary were sitting around the kerosene heater, stark silence reigning. No one else remained on Esh property. Hannah took a seat in one of the empty chairs, and Matthew followed suit.
“So this is why you stayed?” Luke’s sharp tone interrupted her thoughts.
She sat up, clearing her throat. “Yes.”
Her brother’s face was rigid, jaw set as he stared at the ground. The concern in Mary’s eyes was deep, fear of losing his love and respect, of bearing his anger in various measures and ways for years to come.
Kathryn stood. “I … I thought we were going to talk business. I think I’ll call it a day. Good night.” She walked toward the house, and Matthew jumped to his feet and went with her.
Hannah leaned in, catching Luke’s eyes. “You have a right to be angry, but please don’t hold on to this.”
“Mary should have trusted me to make the right decision based on truth and trusted God with her future.” Luke slumped, brooding.
Hannah warmed her hands near the red-faced heater, unable to sit still and unwilling to look at Paul.
Luke gestured in the air, exasperation evident. “So now what?”
Without her permission, Hannah’s eyes moved to Paul and stayed. His blue eyes focused on hers as if Luke’s question hung between them rather than between Mary and him.
Shifting, Hannah turned her attention to Luke. “Dr. Lehman will find a good obstetrician willing to take her in spite of her impending due date and lack of insurance.”
“Explain to me everything, starting with why her doctor didn’t want her to get married.”
Hannah explained all of it, careful to interject assurances as often as possible.
Luke studied his wife, seemingly torn between anger and complete terror for her safety. “How can he be so sure this plan will work?”
“Because Dr. Lehman is incredibly intelligent and spent hours tracking down every test and every doctor’s report concerning Mary’s health after the accident.”
Luke narrowed his eyes at Mary. He gestured toward Hannah. “Swear to me you two are hiding nothing else.”
Hannah held out her hands, palms up. “Nothing. I promise.”
“And she and the baby are completely safe?”
She lowered her hands. “As safe as any healthy woman giving birth using modern technology and a skilled surgeon.”
Luke slid back in his chair, anger radiating off of him. “I can’t just let this go. We should have waited to marry.”
Mary broke into tears. “You can’t regret marrying me. You just can’t. It will taint …” She stood and hurried across the yard toward the back fields where her parents’ property met Esh land. And Luke let her go.
Paul shifted in his chair. “Luke.”
He looked at Paul, and the two men seemed to hold a silent conversation. Her brother finally nodded, stood, and took off after his wife. “Mary, wait.”
Hannah fidgeted with a button on her skirt. “Your silence seems more powerful than most people’s words. I’d like to know that trick.”
“No trick. We just share enough history from my own mistakes.”
Hannah looked up. “And you couldn’t have said nothing earlier and spared Mary some of this?”
“Luke wasn’t ready to hear it earlier.”
“Hear what? You didn’t say anything.”
“Hannah?”
“Yes?”
“You’re giving me a headache.”
They shared a laugh before Hannah leaned back on the chair, noticing for the first time how clear the evening sky was. Thousands of stars sparkled as if the Susquehanna’s surface that gleamed under the sun’s rays had been broken up and spewed into the sky. The harvest moon, in all its golden orange glory, was a clear sign that fall was far more than just a chill in the air. In spite of the heater, she shivered.
Paul tossed her one of the blankets from earlier. “This would be our first real time to be together after dusk.”
Without sitting up or taking her eyes off the sky, she spread the blanket over her. “Maybe it’s not so amazing that we didn’t make it … as it is that we forged a relationship around all the constraints.”
Paul didn’t respond, and she wasn’t about to look at him. They’d shared something special earlier today, and clearly they’d been ripped apart years ago against both their wishes, but she loved Martin. She could list his qualities endlessly and felt privileged that he wanted to share his life with her—an ex–Old Order Amish girl who didn’t dress or act anything like the hundreds of women he’d dated before her.
Hundreds? Had there been that many? Well, he was eight years older than she was and considered dating a sport he was good at, even up to a year and a half after meeting her.
She shuddered, suddenly wishing she hadn’t thought about this. Martin wasn’t an outdoor guy for the most part, but when the weather was nice and time permitted, he’d leave his television, computer, game systems, and phones and sit with her. “Some of my favorite times are when Martin and I sit together outside and talk.”
Paul reached across the chair that separated them and tugged at her blanket. “I’m guessing that’s mostly a summertime event.”
She waved her hand at him, shooing his teasing away. Besides, she really shouldn’t be here talking with him, and it’d suit her overloaded guilt wagon just as well if they waited out the rest of this Mary and Luke saga in complete silence.
To their left, a hundred feet away, stood Luke and Mary. She had Luke’s hand pressed against her stomach. Hannah cleared her throat, trying to dismiss the lump. Love wasn’t all that touched their lives on this planet, but it made everything else endurable.
The movement under Luke’s hand made his heart thud like a wild man inside his chest trying to get out. His child was inside her, responding to his voice. He held his tongue, and the infant stayed still. He spoke, and the baby shifted. Feeling like a true head of the household, a man with the responsibility to take great care with his words and even his tone, he looked at Mary. “You were wrong,” he said softly.
She nodded, fresh tears splashing down her cheeks. “I know, but if you regret marrying me, you’ll taint what we’ve shared … our marriage bed. Remember our first night?”
Luke nodded, recalling many treasured nights.
His eyes stung with tears. He’d trusted her completely. Always had. And now he felt shaken and used. “All those months of crying when you didn’t conceive, you should have been rejoicing. I … I don’t understand.”
“I took my vows before the church, knowing I was hiding the truth from you. I feared God might not ever let me conceive, especially if I didn’t tell you the truth. But more than that, I feared you’d never love me the same if you knew the real me.”
Luke studied his wife. She wasn’t who he’d thought, no doubt. She had flaws and weaknesses he’d not known about until tonight. Now he knew her failing—she feared losing him more than she feared answering to God for a lie. If he wanted power over his wife, something he could use at will for the rest of his life, it’d been given to him tonight.
Mary caressed his cheeks. �
��I’ve repented a million times, but it doesn’t undo what I’ve done.”
He’d had his own repenting to do since they’d known each other. The reality of their weaknesses ran a long list through his mind. When the doctor had told her to wait about getting married, she was devastated, afraid he’d find someone else. But there was no one else to find, not for him. And the truth was, he would have waited for her, but he’d jumped at the chance to marry her at the very next wedding season. He didn’t ask to speak to the doctor; he just married her as quickly as he could.
The list had silly things on it too: the time he’d left the gas-powered refrigerator open all night, the times she made them late for church because she couldn’t find her hairpins, and the times he ignored her when she called him to supper, because he wanted to read the newspaper. He guessed this was what being married meant: having someone who knew both the best and worst about you.
With her hands still on his face, he gently took hold of her wrists. “I guess I can only hope you feel as strongly about marrying me today as you did two years ago.”
Mary smiled. “You know I do, Luke.” She shifted, moving his hand to her stomach again. “We both do. But I shouldn’t have loved you or myself more than God, and when I covered truth to get my way, I did just that.”
Luke wrapped his arms around her, hoping his wife was as safe as Hannah thought.
Matthew filled the kerosene lamp with fuel and set it on the kitchen table. He struck a match and lit it. Kathryn pulled a calculator from the desk drawer, along with the cost of building supplies. He studied her face. Did she believe their relationship was only business?
She folded her arms in a relaxed manner and stared at the papers. “Do you really think you can start making money on orders before the shop is completed?” Her soft voice soothed his nervousness.
He adjusted his hat. “Completely sure. The storage at Luke’s has most of what we need already. After getting a few more supplies, all we need is a place to work that has a roof.”
“E and L can’t work out of Luke’s shop?”
“We could, but it’s a distance to get back and forth. That’d cut way down on my time to work on rebuilding for the most part of the day and filling orders during only a few hours.”
Sisters of the Quilt Page 84
