Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (103 page)

“Well, don’t stop now.”

“Can you deal with me saying something completely honest?”

“More honest than you’ve already been? Will I survive it?”

She didn’t respond to his jesting. Whatever was on her mind was more serious than the information on Martin.

“Go ahead, Hannah.”

“There’s something I’ve wanted to share since the workday at Matthew’s. Something I knew I would eventually have to say, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I’m not sure Dorcas is … Well, I think you need to be careful, make sure you really know her.”

Wondering what would make her say that, he answered, “There’s nothing between Dorcas and me. It’d make my life easier if there were.”

“You’re not courting her, not engaged, not anything?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m really relieved to know that. You can trust me that caring for her would not make your life easier. Not ever.”

She sounded so sure of knowing Dorcas and seemed deeply relieved he wasn’t involved with her. Why?

“Okay, but isn’t that the same as my deciding what Martin’s like based on seeing him once for a few minutes?”

“No, it’s not. Martin’s a truly great guy who sometimes has a short fuse. Dorcas is …” She cleared her throat. “As much as I’m tempted to say more, I’ve said plenty. Look, I need to go. You have a good Thanksgiving and no fudging at Scrabble.”

“Bye, Hannah.” Paul closed his phone, with armies of thoughts marching through him.

Her words reverberated through him over and over again
—Listen, I’m on my way back to you
. He looked to the heavens, wanting to believe what had just happened was some type of message and all he needed to do was hold on.

And she was worth years of waiting if he could have her love. But why was she so relieved he wasn’t involved with Dorcas?

He tumbled that thought around, but then another one came front and center, screaming in his face, making all others disappear. Had she just admitted to caring for him and Martin knew it? Hope rocketed through him. Whatever she carried for him was strong enough for Martin to see it and be angry with her at the hospital. But even if she cared, she’d just said that they’d ruined their chance and she was with Martin now. The blast of hope faded some but far from completely.

Too many things about their past and present just didn’t add up. Like how did Hannah return knowing about certain areas of his life? Had Gram told her during their short visit before Paul and Dorcas arrived—the day Hannah had the flat tire in Gram’s driveway? It wasn’t like Gram to be so open. She was awful tight-lipped about family stuff. But no one outside his immediate family knew about the disapproval he’d been under with his church leaders after Hannah first left.

Except Dorcas
.

At the thought the muscles down Paul’s back stiffened, and the view around him became invisible. The dark roller coaster his mind had been on came to a screeching halt.

When Hannah called him just now and the call dropped, she called him back just to say a proper goodbye. Yet when she left Owl’s Perch for good, she didn’t call? She said she’d called at some point, but when?

Suspicion clung to him, begging to be explored.

Until this moment he thought the intensity of her anger with him when she returned to Owl’s Perch was to be expected, but that day in Gram’s driveway, she’d made a sarcastic remark about how little effort he’d put into talking with her, as if he’d had chances somewhere along the line that he never pursued.

But how?

When she left over two years ago, she had three phone numbers to reach him: Gram’s, his on-campus apartment’s, and his parents’. He knew for sure now what he thought he knew then—that Hannah had a deeper sense of justness than to hold everything against him for his reaction the night he discovered she was round with pregnancy and he left.

But then why had she not called him?

Paul grabbed the ax and slammed the blade of it into a round. The sound of splitting wood echoed against the silence. He continued working, hoping for a revelation.

Mostly I don’t take no for an answer anymore, especially when it comes to reaching people
.

The words she’d spoken to him only weeks ago echoed inside him. She said when she’d called his apartment, a girl answered. He’d assumed she’d called on one of the many nights between their last good visit and when he left her, but did she? As he worked, thoughts fell into place that turned his stomach. His suspicions grew like billows of smoke and were just as impossible to pin down.

But one word kept coming to him over and over again.

Deceit
.

I
n the middle of another song, Martin saw Lissa come to the door, tears streaming down her face. He moved out from behind the keyboard, and she ran to him.

He lifted her. “What’s wrong?”

“I hurt my knee, and the other kids laughed.”

“Oh, so it’s a double whammy, eh? So, which hurts worse, your knee or your feelings?”

Lissa wiped at her tears and hugged him tight. “My knee.”

“Well, let’s go take a look.” He carried her down the steps into the kitchen and set her on the island near the refrigerator. “Let’s see if we can roll your pant leg up, okay?”

She nodded while rubbing her eyes. More than anything she looked tired, and he might need Laura to take her out to the cottage to sleep before the party ended. He managed to get the corduroy pant leg up high enough to see her knee. “It’s only red. I thought maybe it’d be green or orange polka-dotted.”

Lissa giggled. He kissed the top of her head before grabbing a bag of green peas out of the freezer. “Let’s use these.” He lowered her pant leg and placed the frozen bag over her knee.

“I love you, Uncle Martin.”

“Yeah, you’re not so bad yourself, kiddo.” He winked. The thing was, he had a love for Lissa and Kevin he hadn’t known existed inside of people. As frustrated as he’d been with Hannah of late, Amy was right, she had opened his eyes and heart to life beyond work and to these children. It’d taken an Old Order Amish girl to make him reach deep inside and connect with God in a way that’d changed everything about him. And now they were griping and snapping at each other regularly. There was no way he could really tell Hannah what he was thinking. He loved her, which meant a lot since he’d never been in love before, but sometimes he was torn between wanting to direct her steps and accepting that their ideals for how to live rammed against each other.

“Uncle Martin.” Lissa patted his face. He looked up. Amy had entered the room. Doug walked in right behind her.

He removed the bag of peas from Lissa’s knee. “All better?”

“Yep.”

He helped her down. “Hey, Aim, Doug. Care for something to eat or drink?” He motioned to the other island where the food was spread out.

Doug took a paper plate and began putting a variety of snacks on it. “Great gathering.”

“Glad you like it.”

Amy grabbed a bottle of water out of the open cooler. “Are you and Hannah taking Laura with you to Hawaii?”

He tossed the peas back into the freezer. “No, she wasn’t hired full-time when we planned the trip, and it’s impossible now to get her a ticket to fly out that close to Christmas.” He slid onto the island. “I shouldn’t have talked to Hannah the way I did.”

Amy leaned against the bar. “You were pretty bad, Martin, but the one you need to apologize to is her.”

“I will. The pressure we’ve been under will melt once she graduates and we go on vacation. We both know that. This year’s been too long with too many things to adjust to.”

“Hey, does Hannah golf?” Amy asked.

“No, but while we’re in Hawaii, that’s not a bad idea. It’s got all the right earmarks of something she might just enjoy—games and being outside are definitely high on her list of fun things. How long has it been since the three of us and Alex have been part of a foursome?”

“It’s been a couple of years, I think.”

Doug licked barbecue sauce from his fingers. “News update. I gave up golfing. It’s expensive, and I’m horrible at it.”

Martin’s and Amy’s eyes met for a moment as they suppressed a laugh. How poorly Doug played golf was not news, but he was a lot of fun on the course anyway, so no one cared.

Amy took a sip of water. “My dad’s a great golfer, and he’s my
significant other
for the trip.”

“Maybe the four of us can play a few rounds—you, me, Hannah, and your dad.”

“Sounds great. I bet you have no clue how much I’m looking forward to this trip. I haven’t been in over a decade. I’m doing every luau I can manage.”

“I’ve never been.” And he wondered if Hannah would go to a luau. She might not, with girls in skimpy outfits dancing around, but they’d have fun anyway.

“Really? You did such a fantastic job of planning this trip. I just assumed you knew what you were doing.”

And for the first time in a very long time, he felt something other than the need to compromise. He felt respected for decisions he’d made.

With the word
deceit
rolling through his head, Paul strode across the yard and went inside.

The aromas for tomorrow’s Thanksgiving feast filled the air as Gram and his mother baked a lot of things ahead of time. He wasn’t sure where Carol and her husband, William, were, or Dorcas, but his dad was at the kitchen table reading a newspaper.

“Hey, Gram, something’s nagging at me.”

“I’m listening,” Gram called over her shoulder as she loaded the sink with several messy pans.

“I was wondering about the day Hannah came to visit you. Did you tell her about my change of careers or that after she left, I was in trouble with the church leaders over some of my decisions?”

“Of course not.” Gram flicked the hot water on and poured dishwashing liquid into the sink. “That’s personal family happenings. Besides, I was afraid if I mentioned anything personal about you, she’d up and leave before we had a chance to visit.”

Paul figured Gram was right about that. Hannah had returned wanting nothing to do with him, and he was reminded just how far they’d come since then.

“Well, she knows.”

“Maybe that friend of yours, her brother, told her,” Dad offered.

Paul shook his head. “I don’t think he knows.”

Piling mounds of baked cornbread into a huge bowl, his mother arched an eyebrow. “I trust we can find a better topic than that girl during our holiday.”

Paul straightened, looking directly at his mother. No one seemed more set against Hannah and him than his mother. “Mom, have you ever talked to Hannah?”

“What?” The lines across her face revealed her shock. “Never. And I thought you were over this.”

“Dad?”

Glancing to his wife, he looked a bit uncomfortable. Gray colored most of his once-blond hair, but he still managed to look more than a decade younger than his wife. “Your mother and I don’t agree on this subject. As badly as you needed to see that girl again, I’d have given about anything to see it work out.”

His always faithful and calm dad said what Paul already knew. He’d never betray his son. Paul looked up to see Carol and William now standing in the threshold of the double-wide doorway. “Carol?”

She shook her head. “No. I thought she was a huge mistake on your part, but I’d not withhold that from you.”

He nodded, catching a glimpse of the hem of Dorcas’s dress around the corner, near the entryway of the makeshift nursery for his sister’s baby. Was she eavesdropping?

Dorcas’s behavior pricked him.

Something Hannah had said about two months ago returned to him:
“When I did manage to call your apartment, a girl answered.”
He’d assumed Hannah was talking about calling him any night but the one, the only one, when he’d asked his sister and Dorcas to man the phones while he looked for Hannah.

“Dorcas, come on out.”

She eased out from behind the wall, facing him, looking too frail to be questioned.

Guilt defined her features. Surely it couldn’t be true. She’d been his ally, giving him advice, helping him cope. He wasn’t in love with her, but he counted her as a friend. “Did you ever answer a call from Hannah?”

“Paul!” his mother called. “Stop this. That Amish girl nearly ripped us apart when we found out about her, and you’re going to help her do it again?”

He pointed at his mother. “That ‘Amish girl’ did no such thing. Your own anger that I’d have a girl you hadn’t approved did that. Nothing else.” He returned his focus to Dorcas.

She stepped out of the hallway and toward the kitchen, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t … I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

Paul wasn’t sure she’d actually answered his question. “Hannah called me a little bit ago by mistake. The call was dropped, and she called me back to say a proper goodbye. She didn’t want to say anything else but bye. Now why would someone like that not call after leaving Owl’s Perch in such a rush?”

“Maybe she changed over the last few years,” his brother-in-law offered. “She was a teen and returned as an adult. That makes a difference, you know.”

Paul didn’t move his gaze from Dorcas, who was avoiding looking at him. “Or maybe she called and someone’s not telling me.”

Dorcas stared at a group of photos on the wall that showed Paul at various stages of his life.

Paul’s fist came down hard on the countertop. “Answer me, Dorcas.”

Her chin quivered. “She told you.” The words were barely audible.

Hannah knew?

Tempted to lie, he stayed the course. “I want to hear it from you.”

She shook her head, tears trailing her face.

“What, you can bulldoze my life, but you can’t admit to it?”

Dorcas looked to each person, as if searching for support. “She was pregnant. We all knew it wasn’t Paul’s because he never once hesitated to consider that it might be his. Every one of us thought the same thing about her.”

Carol stepped forward. “We
thought
a lot of things. What did you do?”

“I … She called. Only twice, Paul. I swear it.”

“Only twice? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Paul measured his tone, refusing to yield to the rage inside him. “Tell me when, Dorcas.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. “The first time she called, we all thought she was guilty of cheating on you. All of us. Even you thought that for a few days. Then the next time you were beginning to get over her, and …”

Carol looked horrified. “Oh, please say that she didn’t call Paul while he had us at his apartment waiting to hear from her.”

Dorcas covered her face with her hands, sobbing. “I’m sorry.”

Paul couldn’t budge, afraid if he did, he might hurt her. “The night she was staying at a hotel, waiting for her train to leave? It didn’t leave until early afternoon the next day! I could have gone to her and stopped her from going!” Paul clenched his fists. “Are you crazy? Or just flat-out mean?”

Dorcas lowered her hands, her eyes begging him to understand. “I … I thought she’d been lying to you.”

“And the next time, what did you think then?”

“You were beginning to care for me … I could tell, and everyone wanted us to be together.”

Paul looked at his mother and gestured at Dorcas. “This is your choice over Hannah?” He clutched his head, total disbelief rocking his world. “How could you, Dorcas? I trusted you. You encouraged me to let her make the first move, to return on her own, but you kept her from reaching me.” He took several deep breaths, trying desperately to see the room around him as his vision went red. “It’s your fault she’s with someone else. And the truth is we’ll never know all the hurt and damage you’ve caused to Hannah … all the lives you’ve altered along the way, but as long as you got what you wanted, right?”

Needing to get some air, he turned to leave, but then a thought hit, and he turned to face her. “Did you remove the money from our account?”

Dorcas gaped at him, and she looked as if she might keel over. His dad went to her side, and William grabbed a kitchen chair and ran it over to her.

Paul took a step closer. “The bank showed me photos of someone wearing Amish clothing—someone pretending to be Hannah. The bank officials and I figured her rapist stole her bankbook and emptied the account. But you could have taken my bankbook. You have Amish relatives and knew enough to pull that off. Did you take our money?”

She dropped into the chair. “No, I’d never steal from you. I’ll put my hand on the Bible if you need me to.”

“Never steal from me? What do you think you’ve done?”

Dorcas broke into fresh sobs, and his dad passed her a box of tissues. While Paul stood there watching her, a memory hooked on to something inside him, and he tugged at it, like reeling in a fishing line.

The day after he’d asked Hannah to marry him, he was here in his parents’ home, writing her a letter, when his sister and Dorcas came into his room and interrupted him. He’d penned the fullness of his heart in those pages, and receiving it would have meant so much to Hannah. Those days had been unbelievably trying, nearly impossible to make contact and keep up with each other’s life. What were the odds of the only letter his sister and Dorcas knew about being the one that disappeared?