Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (27 page)

They climbed the short flight of steps leading to Gram’s porch. When Hannah took a deep breath and the muscles under his palms relaxed, he decided it was time to try to bring her some laughter. But how? They crossed the covered veranda, Paul right behind her with his hands still on her shoulders.

Yahoo
.

That was it. Paul squeezed her shoulder, then spun out the porch door and onto the snowy steps. “Yahooooooo.” He whispered it softly to the white flurried heavens.

He felt Hannah’s boot on his backside. She pushed. With great theatrics, he stumbled down the few steps and landed on his knees. “Yahoo?”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but laughter erupted.

He sucked in a deep breath, as if he were about to scream at the top of his lungs. He saw Gram behind Hannah one second before the old woman called his name. He exhaled, pretending to choke. Hannah chortled.

Gram tapped her cane on the wooden porch. “Paul Waddell, what are you doing?”

He stood and bowed. “I’m sharing my great joy with the heavens, Gram.”

“Well, stop it and get inside.” She turned and, with her therapeutic shoes and walking stick, clunked her way into the kitchen.

Hannah was still snickering when she turned to follow Gram. Paul bolted up the steps, wrapped his fingers about Hannah’s waist, and whispered against her neck, “Yahoo.”

Hannah burst into giggles as they entered the kitchen. Paul moved to the counter and leaned against it. He shrugged innocently at Gram and winked at Hannah. Hannah bit her bottom lip and dipped her head.

Paul pulled out a straight-backed chair and turned it around, straddling it. “Gram, did you tell Hannah what we’ve discussed for my Christmas present this year?”

His grandmother took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with tap water. “I’ve agreed to give him the gift of talking to you. You’ll come here the day after Christmas. Paul will be with his family in Florida, but I’ll be home. I’ll have a number where you can call him, and you two can talk for hours.” She scrunched her face. “I hope I’m doing the right thing here. But I never promised not to allow phone calls, only letters.”

Hannah’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t ask who Gram had promised not to allow letters. Right then, Paul knew Hannah understood more than she voiced to him.

She drew Gram into an embrace. “A long conversation would be a wonderful Christmas present, Gram. Thank you.”

He gave a nod toward the Scrabble board. “We have a game to finish.”

Placing O-G-L-E after one of the O’s in YAHOO, Paul straightened his shoulders in triumph. “If I had another G, I could do GOOGLE.”

Hannah wagged her finger at him. “You know, these make-believe friends have got to go.”

Paul shrugged. “We’ll never know who won if we each keep using words and phrases the other one can’t verify as real.”

Hannah looked up at him through her lashes. “Winning the game isn’t the point, is it?”

Paul winked and shook his head.

He followed Hannah’s buggy in his truck, staying some thirty feet behind her. He wasn’t sure if Hannah’s request for him to follow her was because of the maniac who’d run her off the road in his car or because she still thought someone was watching them. No doubt a buggy wasn’t much protection against weather or mean people. But it was better than her being on foot. After the car incident, he didn’t want her walking back and forth to Gram’s ever again.

When they arrived at the last bend in the road before her house, he stopped the truck and watched her buggy disappear into a fog of white haze. Her driveway was only a few feet ahead of her.

What a fantastic day they’d had. He said a quick prayer over her and put the truck in reverse.

By the time he returned, Gram’s car was packed, and she was ready to go to Maryland.

A
s Hannah pulled the buggy into the driveway, optimistic energy bounded through her. Paul was amazing, and by the end of May he’d be living just a mile from her home. She hopped out of the buggy and flung open the barn doors. If she’d ever doubted it before, she knew now that she could never tell Paul her secret. He couldn’t handle it.

Tugging at the harness, she led the horse into the barn. She would return it to Matthew tomorrow. As she unhitched the buggy, movement near her home caught her eye. She glanced up and saw her parents walking up the driveway toward her. If they were both coming to see her …

Her heart screamed in pain.

She looked down and continued to loosen the leather bindings, her hands trembling. In an attempt to calm herself, she began singing a song she’d learned in church.
“Herr Jesu Christ, er führt mich.”

“Hannah.” Her father’s voice faltered.

Without looking up, she sang the same lyrics, louder and in English. “Lord Jesus Christ, He leads me. He leads me.” She clung desperately to the hope that she wasn’t pregnant, that she and Paul could marry and raise children, and—

“You must listen to us, child,” her father said over her singing. He placed his hand on hers.

She jerked away from him and turned to face him squarely. “No. Do you hear me? I said no!”

He nodded. “It is what it is, Hannah. We will take care of you.” His shoulders slumped, and he looked old and weak. “But you must go to the bishop right away and tell him you are with child and how it happened.”

“No!” She stomped her foot. “I won’t. You can’t make me.”

Grasping his suspenders, her father drew a deep breath. “This is hard. I know it is, Hannah. But from our best figuring, you have until the middle of May before the baby will be born. You’ll adjust by then.”

Confusing thoughts screamed at her to run.
May? Paul’s coming to Owl’s Perch to live starting in mid-May
.

Could she keep this a secret from him if she were still pregnant and he was living a mile down the road?

“Hannah?” Her mother’s shaky voice interrupted her thoughts.

Hannah lifted her chin. “I’ll not go to the bishop.”

Her father’s demeanor changed from one of compassion to one of fury. “I am still your father, and you’ll do as I say.”

“Then you do as you say and tell him yourself.” Hannah couldn’t believe the defiance that rose within her.

Her father’s face drained of all emotion. “I’ll not. We’ve waited too long for me to be the one who tells him. He’ll accuse me of hiding your sins for you, and then our whole house will pay for the secret that’s been kept.”
Daed
began pacing. “I should have never let you go back and forth to Mrs. Waddell’s. Then this would never have happened.” He stopped pacing and turned to her. “I forbid you and your sister to go ever again.”

“What?” Disbelief churned within her, making her feel too powerless to even breathe.

“I’ll not take a black eye in our church over this, Hannah. You will go to the bishop with this, or you will not be welcomed back under my roof.” He turned and walked out of the barn.

Hannah’s mother stood near the barn entrance, her eyes filled with sadness. “This is difficult. Believe me, I understand.”

Hannah snatched a harness off the barn wall, put it on Matthew’s horse, and mounted it bareback. “You understand nothing!” Hannah spurred the horse and flew past her mother. Unsure where she was heading, Hannah urged the horse to go faster and faster, hoping to somehow outrun the shroud of reality that chased her.

Pregnant
.

Through the powdery dusting of snow, Hannah galloped through field after field. Crying too hard to care where she was going, she released the reins and allowed the horse to choose its own path. Her mind tortured her with thousands of questions as horrid thoughts of what might happen to her and Paul played out before her. How could she possibly keep this pregnancy concealed from him?

Purplish evening skies loomed overhead by the time the horse stopped. Wiping the tears from her face, she glanced about the property. The poor creature had gone home and taken her with him. She slid off the weary animal and removed its harness. It ambled into the barn.

Frantic for time alone, she looked around for somewhere she might hide. Through blurry eyes she spotted Matthew’s buggy workshop a thousand feet away from any other building on Esh property.

She ran to it, entered through the narrow back door, and climbed the wooden ladder to the storage loft. She stumbled to the far corner. Huddling behind crates and broken buggy pieces, she sobbed.

It couldn’t be true; it just couldn’t.

Her father had said he’d take care of her, but she knew him. When her stomach started rising like bread dough, he wouldn’t even be able to look her in the eyes. As horrid and lonely as that would feel, it didn’t begin to compare to what would happen if Paul discovered she was carrying a child that belonged to someone else. She buried her face in her apron and cried until she could cry no more.

Her head throbbing, she closed her eyes. She imagined herself existing in another place and time, before the rape. If only she could find her way back there.

“Hannah!” In the distance a young man’s voice called to her.

She jolted, realizing she’d fallen asleep. She rose, her joints aching and sore. As she peeked through the attic vent, she saw two people with lanterns plodding through the snow, calling for her.

Oh no
.

Closing her eyes and wishing she could disappear, Hannah waited. When she opened her eyes, the soft glow of lanterns still dotted the otherwise dark fields. No amount of wishing altered her reality.

It had to be almost daylight. No wonder her father had sent people to look for her. As she worked her way through the dark room toward the ladder, beams of light came through the opening, followed by the top of an Amish man’s black hat.

Hannah stood stock still.

The black hat tilted back, and she saw Jacob Yoder. “Hannah, do you have any idea how many people are searching for you? What are you doing up there?”

“I … I fell asleep.”

He set the kerosene lamp on the floor, but he didn’t climb the ladder any higher. “Well, I figured you had to be somewhere out of the cold. Since midnight a group of men have been checking every building we could think of.” He picked up the lantern. “You best come on.”

As she climbed down the wooden ladder, she tried to brace herself for the day ahead.

By the time she placed her feet on the floor, Jacob was sitting on a wooden crate. “What’s going on with you, Hannah?”

She shook her head. “I just needed time alone to think and …”

“Yeah, you fell asleep. I heard.” He shook his head, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. “You stayed out all night, and the whole community knows it. Don’t you realize what that will do to your reputation? I mean, men like a little spunk, Hannah Lapp, but you sure know how to push every limit that’s been set.”

“I don’t need your approval, Jacob.”

He stood there with his arms folded, staring at her. “Sarah’s right. Tornadoes are more predictable than you.” He nodded toward the door. “We need to let others know you’re safe.”

Jacob walked to her and held out the lantern. “I wouldn’t want to be in your position when you face your father. Rumors about you and last night are already running wild.”

The shed door opened, and Matthew’s younger brothers stepped inside, each carrying a lantern. David and Peter gawked at her and then looked at each other.

David lowered his lantern. “People are looking for you, Hannah.” His attention shifted to Jacob. “Your
Mamm
and
Daed
said you’d been out since midnight and if we spotted you to say it’s time you came on home.”

Jacob opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“He just found me … I came in here last night and fell asleep … and …” Hannah’s words trailed off. She knew how children of David’s and Peter’s ages liked to tell stories at school, the more scandalous the better.

David rolled his eyes. “Save it for the bishop and your father …”

Hannah felt sick at how powerless she was to stop the tongue wagging that was about to bury her alive. Without any doubt, word would quickly spread about her being found with Jacob. And Sarah would hate her forever after this.

Suddenly Mary came to mind.

Hannah turned to Jacob. “Does Mary know I’m missing?”

“She thinks you spent the night at your house.”

“I’ve got to get back to Mary. Tell the others you found me.”

The ties to her
Kapp
blew in the wind, slapping her in the face as she scurried across the fields. She pulled out the pins that held her prayer bonnet in place, jerked it off, and shoved it into the pocket of her apron. She had no intention of ever praying again, so she would never need it.