Not better. Not worse. Just one of the many ways believers honored God. A way she understood and respected, even if it wasn’t what she had ended up choosing.
She went closer to the aquarium, trying to think of something to say to break the sudden awkwardness. “I like your place.”
He came up behind her. “It serves its purpose.”
She shifted, looking straight at him, and suddenly the current between them seemed as powerful and tumultuous as the Susquehanna during the spring thaw. Feeling naive for not realizing the upheaval coming here would cause her, she cleared her throat and moved to the strings of cards. “You must have a lot of friends.”
“I have a lot of people who send Christmas cards. Whether they’re friends or not, there’s no real way to know, is there?”
The taint in his voice was distressing. Unable to face him, she continued looking at the cards.
“Hannah.” Paul’s voice was barely above a whisper.
She turned.
His eyes searched hers, clearly looking for answers. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard about … Well, Dorcas was wrong, and you have every right to be angry.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
His tone held the quiet anger of a man lied to by too many women, and she hated herself for her part in it.
“Gram said …” She ran her fingers through fallen wisps of hair, trying to push them back into place. “Here’s the thing, Paul. I’m the one who chose to only call twice. I could’ve called again and made sure to leave a message with Gram. But like I told you before, I really didn’t believe you wanted me, and even if you’d told me otherwise, I never would have believed you. Never. I would’ve spent the rest of my life feeling like a charity case, and as badly as I wanted you to make everything better, I knew my lack of self-esteem would grow to rock-hard self-hatred if I didn’t start fresh. Those things aren’t Dorcas’s fault.”
“So you’re here to set me straight so Dorcas doesn’t pay any penalty for her wrong?”
“I’m here because we’re friends, because no one understands the frustration, the deep-seated anger, the complications of all we’ve been through more than we do. Your other friends will try to get it. Martin tries, Dr. Lehman tries, Zabeth tried.” She shook her head and sighed. “I get it, Paul, and I guess I thought maybe you needed that.”
“What I needed passed me by long ago. The thanks for that go to Dorcas. I know that our Plain ways say we have to forgive immediately, right then, but she carried out her deceit for years. I may pay the price forever for what she’s done. Do you honestly think I’m wrong in this?”
The heaviness of his words settled on her like a cloak, and she took a seat on the couch, unable to respond for a while. “Is it possible faith in God over our future must outweigh our feelings in the things of today? And maybe there are lots of types of forgiveness just like there are lots of kinds of love.”
“There is no way to forgive what she’s done. None. She used her free will to remove mine in a sneaky, underhanded way. Don’t talk to me about reaching out to offer her any type of forgiveness. Even if you needed that time in Ohio, all of it, I had the right to receive your calls—a God-given right. Of course you were feeling unworthy and having second thoughts after you made those calls, but you reached out. I’ll bet you had a ton of conflicting emotions and plans, right?”
Remembering one of her reasons for changing her last name, she nodded. “Yes.” She knew she would always hope he’d come looking for her if she kept her last name. Oh, she’d also wanted to keep Daed from finding her, but more than that, she needed to free herself of always hoping Paul might show up for her one day.
“My Daed wants forgiveness.”
Paul’s stiff-legged stance slowly relaxed, and he sat on the edge of his recliner near her. The arm of her couch and the arm of his chair sat at a right angle, mere inches apart.
“He asked me for it the night we all went to the hospital for Mary. I just stood there, Martin’s hand on my back, nudging me to say what should be said. And I couldn’t. I didn’t come here because I think I have answers to offer. I guess there are times when it’s easier to forgive strangers than our own.”
Paul placed his forearms on his legs, leaning in.
The aroma of fresh outdoors clung to him, reminding her of when she used to consider the scent of him equal to what integrity would smell like if it carried a fragrance, and in spite of herself, she took a deep breath. “I can’t figure out how to connect with forgiveness sometimes. I understand that when we forgive, we’re saying what was done to us is not more powerful than God’s ability to redeem us from it, and sometimes I’m able, and sometimes I just wish no one asked, no one made me face what’s inside.”
With his elbows on his knees, Paul cupped his hands together and rested his chin on them. “I hate … this.”
“I find it comforting that God hates things too.”
“Yeah, I guess He does.” He paused, and they remained silent for over a minute before he placed one hand over hers. “She doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”
Hannah nodded. “Nevertheless.”
He rubbed his hand back and forth over hers, and she wished the pull to him would give her a break.
“My fiancée once wrote a letter to me, and I have every word memorized. It got me through … a lot. One of my favorite parts reads, ‘Someone did not place his desires under God’s authority—nevertheless, God’s power over my life is stronger than that event.’ ” He paused, gently holding her hands in his. “Come back to me, Hannah.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You know I can’t.”
His eyes bored into her, and she was sure he knew much more about her heart than he should.
She slid her hands from his and wiped tears from her cheeks. “He’s a good man, and we have Kevin and Lissa.”
Paul stood, rubbing the back of his neck while he walked to the far side of the room. He turned. “So that settles it?”
“Yes.”
After holding her gaze, Paul gave one nod of his head. “Dorcas is in a hospital less than ten miles from here. I’ll go see her tonight. But I will not let her back in my life. She’s proven who she is.”
“I’m not sure, but I don’t think forgiveness means you have to open your life up to them again.”
“Maybe you should rethink taking care of things with your dad as soon as you can.”
Fighting to stay composed, she stood. “Okay.” She glanced at her watch. “I … I need to go.”
Paul walked her out to her car and opened the door. “You drive safe and take care of yourself.”
“I will.” Trembling, she turned the key, waved, and left the parking lot, unable to look back. She began the drive back to Ohio, hoping the pain would ease.
Matthew slid the hand plane across what would eventually be the dash of a buggy, shaving off enough wood to make it fit in its designated spot. Across the room Luke pulled, tucked, and fitted the last corner of black leather over the frame of a buggy’s bench seat.
At the sound of the clanging bell, he glanced out the window. Kathryn stood on the front porch of his home, sliding the striker onto the triangle dinner bell. With only one shop built and no room designed just for painting, the windows had to stay open for cross ventilation. December’s freezing temperatures had forced Kathryn to move into a makeshift office inside his home.
Matthew laid the plane and dashboard on the workbench and removed his tool belt. He stepped outside for a moment, catching Kathryn’s eye and motioning for her to come to the shop.
Luke tapped the nail in place before looking up. “I think I’ll go home for lunch today.”
“You do that.” Matthew headed out the side door to the spot where he and Kathryn met when they wanted a minute of privacy.
She’d returned six weeks ago, and they’d been secretly going places together since. Grief over the loss of his brother still clung to him, but Kathryn’s presence brought him a de
ep, satisfying peace with life. He did, however, wish he knew a little better what her feelings were toward him. They had fun, no doubt. Talked often and about everything. Laughed and played even during work-hours. For him, the bond grew deeper each day. But for her? He wasn’t sure.
The deal with the bishop hadn’t rattled her, even though he was checking up on Matthew regularly. The more he knew her, the more he enjoyed life. He believed with Elle he could have enjoyed life if … if she were different, if she had a clue about keeping her word, if she understood any aspect of balancing desires with reality.
She walked toward him and stopped in the yard for a moment to scoop up a mewling kitten. With Kathryn, he did enjoy life, even in the midst of grief, because of who she was and what she brought with her naturally as she went throughout her day.
They came toe to toe. Matthew’s eyes met hers as he scratched the kitten’s head. “How’s it goin’?”
She snuggled the kitten deeper in her arms. “It’s even colder out here than in the shop, you know?”
He laughed. “Didn’t we discuss this once?”
“I’m allowed in the house, but the kitten isn’t.”
Matthew mocked a sigh. “Fine. Put the cat’s bed near the wood stove in the shop, but if she gets stepped on …”
Kathryn giggled. “She won’t. She’ll stay right up under the bench until she’s old enough to climb up high on the rafters.” She stroked the kitten. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that I got a letter from my Daed yesterday, and I’m expected to spend Christmas Eve and Day there.”
“I guess there’s no excuse we could give that would allow me to show up at your house on Christmas without people realizing what was going on.” He’d long ago adjusted to not having someone special near him on a holiday, so although this was disappointing, being alone for only a day or two was a nice change.
He tugged on one string of her prayer Kapp. “I guess it’s reasonable enough since we did get Thanksgiving together … in a house full of umpteen relatives. Can you be back the day after Christmas? I’ll take off.”
Her eyes danced. “Oh.” She stretched out the word, letting him know she had ideas about that. “With last weekend’s snow, if we get another layer in the next two and a half weeks, it’ll be perfect for sledding.”
Aching to kiss her, Matthew continued playing with the string of her Kapp. “I could enjoy sledding.”
“Maybe we could race.”
“Two sleds instead of sharing one? Not what I had in mind.”
She shook her finger at him, teasing before her expression changed. “The bishop came by earlier.”
“Yeah, he came into the shop and spoke with me before he left. Didn’t ask too many questions though. Maybe he’s decided to give me a break.”
She smiled, petting the kitten. “Soon you’ll be in his good graces again, then I can quit being just hired help. Ya?”
“Does playing the part of just employee make you uncomfortable?”
She leaned her back against the outer wall of the shop. “Nah, I’m enjoying it. A bit of sneaking around is good for the soul.”
“Is it now? Your preacher at home must teach somethin’ awful different from mine.”
Standing up straight, Kathryn chuckled. “I better go.”
Matthew placed his hand on the wall in front of her, stopping her from leaving. She dipped her chin, scratching the kitten’s head. “You know how I feel about …”
She let the sentence drop, but he knew the rest of her thought. She’d made herself clear on this subject before their first outing. She was convinced every relationship should be a no-handholding deal unless the couple intended to marry.
He moved in closer. “I do.”
She lowered her eyes, and the set of her stare said she was thinking. When she raised her head, he was sure he saw a hint of invitation inside the sparkle.
“Katie, ya know”—Matthew tried to sound casual—“there’s nothing wrong with giving me an early Christmas present.”
She pursed her lips, mocking frustration as she stared into his eyes. “Are you taking advantage of my pleasure in this secret-keeping thing, Matthew Esh?”
“Trying to, yes.”
With an adorable smile in place, she shook her head and went to step around him. He moved directly in front of her. Since he was convinced she was the one for him, all this courting and no kissing was simply too much, but until today she’d not given any signal that he should press the matter. She stopped, seemingly waiting on him to step aside. He leaned in, and she backed up.
“I don’t intend to be an Amish housewife.”
Matthew’s heart skipped. “You don’t? Do you want to be an Amish husband instead?”
She laughed. “I’m trying to be serious.”
“Then try makin’ sense.”
“I don’t want to give up working beside you in order to have your babies.”
“Mmm.” Matthew nodded. He had the sneaking suspicion that Kathryn Glick was ready for the first kiss of her life. “You gonna set up baby beds and playpens in the shops?”
“And under the trees in warm weather. Near the garden during planting. And …”
Matthew wrapped the strings to her prayer Kapp around his fingers. “Your need for plannin’ and organizin’ is steppin’ all over my spontaneous moment.”
“If you want a housewife, I need to know now. That’s not who I am, but your Mamm would be willing to help and love every minute of it.”
“Glad you have it all planned out,” Matthew whispered. “I got no objections to your plans.” He mumbled the words and brushed his lips across hers.
Taking several steps back, she bumped against the wall, staring at him. Reeling from the connection, Matthew drew a breath. She’d just talked about marrying him without his even asking. He was fully satisfied in this moment.
She ran her fingers over her lips before pouting. “Is that all the present I get to give?”
Taking his cue, he wrapped his arms around her. “I didn’t want to be greedy.”
“I could tolerate a little selfishness now and then.”
“That’s good to know.” He kissed her, feeling confident that nothing would ever come between them.
Mamm called their names, and Kathryn slowly pulled away.
Matthew put a few inches between them, noticing the cat was still sleeping undisturbed in the crook of her arm.
Kathryn smiled up at him. “I like this secret-keeping thing.”
“Not too much, I hope. I want to tell everyone when the dust settles with the bishop.”
She squared her shoulders, mocking smugness. “Oh, we’ll tell everyone, all right.”
It was her first hint that she wanted Elle to know. He didn’t blame her.
Kathryn passed him the kitten and slipped out from between him and the wall. “But until then”—she pointed for him to stay—“we’ll enjoy this little mandate of yours.”
Enjoy it? It was something he insisted on, and now she was making the boundaries of his decision not only comfortable, but fun.
“Put her somewhere cozy, count to forty, and then come inside, okay?”
She started to walk away, and he pulled her back to him, kissing her again. She wiggled free, her laughter filling the air as she took off running, turning twice to glance back at him, a flirtatious smile across her face.
So Kathryn had a romantic side to her well-rounded way of dealing with life. He should have figured on that. He could still feel her lips on his. Catching one of her glances, he winked, realizing anew that everything he’d ever wanted was right here on the land that’d belonged to his great-grandfather and with a woman whose roots were as true to the Old Ways as his were.
Hannah unlocked the cabin door and shoved it open. The December cold inside Zabeth’s cabin was as unyielding as the loneliness inside her. Silvery moonbeams stretched across the floor, and she moved to the piano without turning on the light. She plunked a few keys. It needed tuning, but she remembered the wo
nderful songs Zabeth played while Hannah sat beside her, watching.
As a baptized member of the Amish faith, Zabeth had broken ties with every relative to pursue her love of music. Martin carried that kind of passion for music. Hannah enjoyed it, but it didn’t reside in her like it did in them.
She walked to the window and looked out back. It was there on the bench she’d first met Martin.
Inside this cabin they formed a friendship and fell in love.
If he’d just come to the cabin …
But he wouldn’t. He wanted to sell it. Worse, she’d given in.
Everything between them began to change once this was no longer their haven. This is who she was, and he’d come here over and over again and embraced that part of her.
One lone light bulb hung from the ceiling. She went to the light switch and flipped it on and then off and then on. It was the first place she lived that had electricity … and freedom. Zabeth had supported her every dream, and she’d loved and accepted everything about Hannah.
Still wearing her coat, Hannah flicked the light off and lay on the couch. She needed to leave in just a minute. It was Tuesday, her night off, and Martin was expecting her.
His words beckoned to her—“Come on, phone girl, make a choice for us.”
She had chosen. The decision was made.
Her future was with him.
After the children were in bed Sunday night, she’d told Martin about seeing Paul earlier that evening. The anger he’d expressed still made her shudder. She rushed through her explanation for going to Owl’s Perch—that she needed to talk to Mary because Dr. Lehman had said Hannah might be able to have children. Anger drained from his face, and the conversation shifted. By the time she went to the cottage, she’d agreed to his having a vasectomy.
Lying on her back staring at the ceiling, warm tears trickled down the sides of her face, and she closed her eyes.
Her phone rang, and she jerked. Fishing it out of her coat pocket, she sat up. “Hi.”
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