Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (19 page)

A
cold wind whipped through Hannah’s skirts and shawl, but the temperature in her heart seemed even colder. Her jaws ached as tears threatened to form. Disappointment worked its way through her. She’d really wanted to see the harness shop and Luke and Mary’s future home, not to mention the joy on Mary’s face as she took it all in for the first time.

A calf in the barn bawled for its mother. Hannah trudged across the back field to the barn.

My fault?
How could he think that? Was it true? She remembered so little of those dark times following the attack.

She pulled the barn door open just far enough to slip inside. The place was warm and smelled of sweet feed and calf starter. She took a few steps toward the calf pen, and another familiar scent filled her nostrils: fresh cow manure.

The calf stuck its head through the split-rail pen, begging to be touched. Hannah patted the cowlick in the center of its forehead. The calf’s tongue looked like saltwater taffy being pulled and stretched as the calf lapped at her clothing. It butted its head against her arm as if she had milk for the needy thing. “Sorry, fella. You’re plain outta luck.”

Hannah stepped back and folded her arms across her chest, tucking her shawl around her. Streams of sunlight caused dancing dust particles from the hay to look like shiny flecks of gold. She and Luke used to pretend the floating bits of dirt were tiny people and that if they could catch them and immerse them in water, they’d grow into life-sized children. They’d spent hours trying to create people from suspended pieces of hay dust.

Now Luke hated her. And she couldn’t fully remember what he was talking about. She didn’t doubt his account of what had happened. She’d never had much desire to attend the singings for appearance’ sake. She was sure that during those most confusing days of her life, she’d refused to go anywhere with anyone.

Desperate for a place to hide and think, she climbed the ladder to the hayloft. She clambered over the mounds of loose hay and opened the hayloft door. Another blast of cold air stung her cheeks. Brown leaves swirled in the wind, falling from the trees like rain. She wrapped the shawl around her and tried to find solace in the beauty of the earth. Most of the trees had lost their leaves, and they stood with gray branches reaching out and upward. Brown fields lay resting for the season. Brilliant blue skies carried such a variety of clouds—thick mounting ones, wispy ones, thin-lined ones.

She wondered if her Aunt Zabeth had once loved her father the way Hannah loved Luke. She bet Zabeth would understand how badly she hurt, how isolated her life had become. Hannah wondered what her aunt had done that caused her to be shunned. Whatever it was, she never repented, because the letter said she was still under the ban.

A flock of twelve or more purple finches gathered under the sweet gum tree, enjoying the seeds that had fallen.

She looked out at the land and drew a deep breath. God had done a magnificent job with creation. Warmth spread throughout her body, and in spite of the stabbing pains from Luke’s accusation, peace flooded her.

I know the plans I have for you …

She’d heard this verse during a church service, and it had struck her as powerful even then. But today, as she stood in a hayloft alone and unsure of her future, it meant hope. Hannah knelt and closed her eyes. “God, I know so little … I understand almost nothing.” Chills covered her body. “You are my God, whether I understand You or not. I choose You.”

Thoughts from every corner of her life assailed her. She saw herself sitting in various homes, barns, and workshops for preaching services, hearing strong messages against sin. A snapshot of her father kissing her fingers the time they got mashed in the buggy door made her smile even now. It had amazed her that day how a tiny kiss truly made the pain disappear. Visions of Paul laughing with her over the years and aching with her when she cried on his shoulder at the hospital filled her with fresh turmoil.

Faster and faster, images flew through her mind—arguments with sisters, cooking in a hot kitchen, and respect for the Old Ways even though much about those ways stirred doubt within her. Then the puzzle pieces of her life took an ominous turn, and she could barely see a clear picture of anything in her mind’s eye. Luke and Mary’s buggy accident. Luke’s anger.

The attack.

That was the real reason she’d had nothing to say to God for two months.

She shifted off of her knees and sat. Life didn’t make sense. Parts of it were so beautiful, so touching, that a moment of it brought her strength that could last for years and could only have come from God. But what about the other part, the part that was so wretched with ugliness it stole her desire to live?

It didn’t make sense that God willed both. Maybe it never would make sense.

Hannah struggled day in and day out with blind acceptance of everything that happened in life. If God put a person where he or she was supposed to stay, then how did the Pilgrims come to America? How did the Amish cross an ocean to get free of the Church of England?

If authority couldn’t sometimes be ignored, there would be no Old Ways to cling to. So who got to decide when it was time to stand against authority and when it was time to submit?

She sighed, not knowing the answers to any of that.

The tugging question in her heart right now seemed to be if she trusted God to be her strength and guiding force, whether she understood things or not.

Pulling her knees to her chin, she wrapped the shawl around them and closed her eyes, sifting through more of her thoughts. “God, I … I can’t accept that the attack was Your will. I can’t.” Oddly, fresh peace flooded her, as if God understood her feelings.

“Hannah!”

The shout startled her so badly she screamed. Her eyes flew open, and she jumped to her feet. On the ground, some fifteen feet below, Matthew stood, looking up at her.

“Matthew Esh, scare a girl to death, why don’t ya!” But seeing his friendly face quickly removed her frustration.

The gleam in Matthew’s eyes, which defined him more than any other trait, didn’t falter for a moment. “Well, it’s not like I weren’t calling to ya,” he said, pointing to the ridge where Esh land met Yoder ground, “from the moment I recognized it was you sittin’ up here. I been wantin’ to see how you’re doin’. Everybody’s so wrapped up in Luke and Mary, pampering them like—” He stopped cold. “I mean, they’ve had it rough and all, but …” Matthew grabbed his suspenders and kicked a rock.

He had a good heart, one that didn’t want to say anything negative. Sometimes, in his honesty, things slipped out anyway. But with no one home, they needed to find a better time to visit.

“I think we’d better talk later, Matthew.” She enjoyed his company. He often reminded her of Paul with his sense of humor and work ethic. And he reminded her of the best parts of Luke, with his sincerity and dedication to the Old Ways and his family.

“Aw, come on. It’s important.”

Seeing the disappointment in his eyes, she relented. “Well, if you’re needing to talk, come on up.”

A wind gust zipped through the barn and right through Hannah’s clothing. She pulled on the handles to the double doors of the hayloft and bolted them shut.

The ladder creaked, and soon Matthew’s black winter hat peeked through the small entrance. “Can’t say I ever climbed into a haymow to talk to a girl before.”

“Did too.” Hannah eased onto a mound of hay and stretched out her legs, thankful for a break from the seriousness of her life.

Matthew mocked a scowl at her as he finished climbing into the loft. “Liar.”

Hannah laughed. They’d get in ever so much trouble if the adults knew how they threw such an ugly word around like it was nothing. His playfulness reminded her so much of Luke … before the buggy accident.

Wrapping her cloak tighter around herself, Hannah clenched her jaw in feigned annoyance. “You told me about it yourself.”

Matthew slid off his jacket and threw it on her lap before he fell back on the hay beside her. She coughed at the spray of dust he caused, then realized he’d probably planned that little dust-scattering move. She waved her hand through the air, clearing it some so she could breathe. He stretched out his long legs, obviously unperturbed at her reaction.

Glad for the extra warmth, she spread his jacket over her lap.

“Prove it.” Matthew picked up a long straw and stuck it between his teeth.

“Got to that point of the game already?” Hannah took the straw from his mouth and tossed it into his lap.

He shrugged and grabbed another straw. “I got somethin’ I want to tell ya. But first, you have to prove your claim.”

Curiosity grabbed her attention. “Motty Ball.”

“Climbing a haymow to talk to a cat doesn’t count.”

Hannah buried her cold hands under the jacket. “Motty Ball is a female, and that’s what you said. So, what’s this news?”

Matthew’s eyes danced with mischief. “I met somebody.”

“Old Order Amish?” Her automatic question bothered her. Was she that much of a hypocrite that Matthew had to find an Amish girl but she could be engaged to a Mennonite?

Matthew laced his fingers together and tucked them behind his head, looking quite pleased with himself. “Of course.”

A chorus of relief sang within her. “Who?”

“Won’t say. Not yet.”

“For tradition’s sake—keeping the relationship a secret until you’re published?” She was too excited to drop the subject easily.

“Nah. That’s silly stuff for old women and childish girls. It’s ’cause I don’t know yet how she feels about me.”

“Oh.” Her excitement ended abruptly. She would hurt all over if Matthew fell for someone who didn’t return his feelings.

Looking at courting from this viewpoint, she saw some of her father’s concerns. Suddenly she couldn’t find fault with him for taking it so seriously.

“Come on, Matthew. You gotta tell me.”

Matthew picked up a straw and twirled it. “If you can figure out the riddle, you’ll know. But you can’t tell nobody.” He placed the straw between his teeth. “Now, pay attention ’cause I’m only going to say it once.” He shifted his feet and leaned back in a relaxed manner. “She comes and she goes almost daily … by driver. In thick snow, she’ll stay. Her name is said like it’s one letter. She’s not yet been allowed to take her vows, but she’s been old enough for several years.”

Hannah shook her head. “Not allowed to take her vows yet? I never heard of such a thing. Matthew, are you playing games with me?”

He smiled. “It’s the honest-to-heaven’s truth. And if I told you more, you’d get more confused. She’s as unique as an Amish community has ever knowed.”

Hannah sat there, dumbfounded. “If she comes and goes by driver, then she’s not from this district.”

Matthew smiled broadly. “Not yet.”

His confidence was disconcerting. He was missing a huge part of the chain of command: the girl’s father. The bishop of each district would easily agree to let any Amish of good standing move to a different district. But a girl’s father—well, that put a whole new spin on the issue.

Matthew squared his shoulders. “That’s all I’m saying. Either you’re as smart as I think you are and can figure it out, or you won’t know.”

“Well, I’ll know when you get published.”

Matthew laughed loud and strong. “She ain’t even gone for a buggy ride with me yet.” He shrugged, clearly having a moment of insecurity. “But when I met her, there was something between us, Hannah. Ya know?”

She wanted to argue that his feelings were too much too soon, but she of all people couldn’t argue that point. She’d fallen for Paul as hard and as quickly as a tree felled for firewood. “Yeah, I know.” The dreamy look in his eyes made Hannah ache to see this work out for him.

His riddle was quite a puzzle. A girl of age but not yet allowed to take her vows. Strange. Her name sounds like one letter. Hmm. This would take some considering.

Ready for a little childlike reprieve after weeks of hard labor, she reached for the straw dangling from his lips. He threw his hand up, deflecting hers. A scuffling match ensued as she tried to grab the straw and he tried to keep her from getting it.

“Schick dich
, Hannah.
Schick dich.”
He grabbed a fistful of hay and rubbed it on her head.
“Du bischt Druwwel.”

She stood and threw his jacket to the foot of the ladder.

“
Dankes
, Hannah.”

Hannah curtsied. “You’re welcome.”

“What’d you do that for?”

Feigning innocence, she said, “It flew there all by itself.”

“Aha! Proof! You are a liar!” He squared his shoulders in triumph, clearly certain he’d won this round of the game.

“Hello!” A deep voice boomed through the air.

Hannah stopped dead as if the breath had been knocked out of her. That was the bishop’s voice.

Matthew tilted his head, studying her. “It’s okay, Hannah. We’ve done nothing wrong.” He put both feet on the ladder and began his descent. He stopped on the third rung. “Perhaps one day the lot will fall to me, and I’ll become a bishop.” The words came out but a whisper so the bishop could not hear him. “Maybe then you will behave around me,
ya
?” He smiled and straightened his hat before he climbed down the ladder.