Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (34 page)

“Hey, I spend my time with quality women—Bible-believing, God-honoring, denying-their-darker-side women. Besides, I think most girls would rather handle things relatively honestly.”

Paul sighed, trying to remember the exact words Hannah had said. “Relatively?”

Marcus shifted on the bed, making it creak. “They’d rather dump a guy than cheat on him, even if it means fudging a little on why they don’t want to be with him. So, is this Hannah the kind of girl who would be relatively honest, or would she be more likely to run around behind your back?”

Paul lowered his hands, making eye contact with Marcus. “She did make a few remarks recently about me not wanting to do all that it would take to wait for her. She never talked like that before we became engaged—”

“Engaged?” Marcus interrupted.

Paul stood. “I … We … were … I don’t know.” He paced the small room as his mind conjured up images from years of friendship with Hannah. His need to build a foundation that went deeper than just friendship had begun when he’d returned to Gram’s two summers ago. Hannah’s beauty had blossomed strikingly, and he knew she would attract every single man around. The night he went to the hospital to see her, her friendliness with Matthew watered the seeds of jealousy that had been planted long before. When her reaction to his visit was less than enthusiastic, his lack of confidence turned into festering envy.

“Paul?”

He stopped pacing and sat on the bed again. “I went to see her the night before the snowstorm. We argued and I left.” Paul punched the mattress below him. “What happened to us?”

Marcus shrugged. “I have no idea, my friend. You haven’t told me anything about this girl, you know.”

Neither Paul nor Hannah had anything to lose at this point, so Paul told Marcus all about her. As he talked, he realized he should have done this with Marcus years ago. Just airing everything cleared his mind and made all sorts of things make sense. As he retraced their relationship, doubts he’d had about Hannah’s faithfulness began to shrink.

Marcus’s eyes shifted back and forth, studying Paul’s face. “She’s pregnant?”

He nodded, all doubt of Hannah’s innocence completely gone. His insecurity and jealousy had blinded him for a few days. “You can’t mutter a word of this to anyone.”

“Come on, Waddell. You know I won’t.”

“It’s just that I’ve spent years trying to protect her, not letting anyone know about us so her father wouldn’t find out and punish her.” Guilt at leaving her there, begging him to listen to her, hounded him. “Dear Father, what have I done?”

Paul grabbed his shoes and yanked them on. “I’ve got to go to her and make this right. She’ll be eighteen in two weeks. I’ll need to hide her until her birthday, but after that her father can’t legally make her return home. I bet the reason she’s not living under his roof anymore is because he won’t let her.” He lunged toward the door.

Marcus stepped in front of him. “Wait. Just take a few minutes and think about this. You’re talking about some serious baggage. Maybe rape and a baby?”

Paul stopped, horrified at the words that had just come out of his friend’s mouth. “And I can only hope she needs me enough to forgive me.”

As Paul strode toward the door, Marcus followed him. “The winds have caused snowdrifts across some of the roads. I doubt if the snowplows have gotten to the back roads of Owl’s Perch yet. Let me go with you. I might be able to help.”

Paul grabbed his coat off a chair. “In spite of the complete idiot that I am, I’m fine on my own.”

“Look, I’m sorry about the baggage comment. If this is what you want, I’ll back you. But you need to give me a break here, not to mention yourself. Your reaction wasn’t what you wish it was, but you got sideswiped. You can’t hold it against yourself because you needed time to think and process. That’s just part of being a human.”

Paul’s heart lurched. “Sideswiped!” What an idiot he’d been. He grabbed a kitchen chair and squeezed the wooden spindles as hard as he could, rage building inside him. “That’s when she stopped going to Gram’s. That’s when she started acting weird. The unmentionable must have happened …” It all fell into place. He couldn’t bear to think of what had happened to her … and what he’d done to make matters even worse.

Unable to take any more, he lifted the kitchen chair into the air and smacked it over the table, wishing he could find the man who had dared to hurt his sweet Hannah. He brought it down again and again until he held only spindles.

He turned to Marcus. “We waited years, were willing to wait years longer to win her father’s approval, and some idiot took advantage of a girl weaker than himself.” Paul’s peripheral vision turned red and began closing in around him.

Marcus had backed away as Paul destroyed the chair, but now he stepped forward. “Paul, you’re wasting time. Hannah needs you. Come on, I’ll drive. My car has better traction in the snow than your truck.”

Paul dropped the pieces of wood. How would he and Hannah ever find their way back to who they once were?

Marcus grabbed his keys off the hook beside the front door.

Climbing into the passenger seat of Marcus’s Ford Escort, Paul wrestled with guilt and a sense of urgency.

As they traveled north on 283, Paul rapped his nervous fingers on his leg. “What’s with all the brake lights?”

Marcus shifted into second gear. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t look good.”

A
fter burying her daughter, Hannah slept fitfully for hours in Mary’s
Daadi Haus
. But the high winds that screeched all night made rest nearly impossible.

When morning broke and she heard familiar voices, she almost felt sane. She sat up, listening to the Pennsylvania Dutch words fly back and forth between Luke and Mary. Since it was barely daylight, Hannah figured Luke must have stayed the night at the Yoders’ main house. Hannah eased her body upright, every part of her painfully aware that she’d given birth just two nights ago.

“You can’t believe she doesn’t know who the father of her child is, Mary. That’s ridiculous. If you want to forgive her, fine. But at least make her be honest about her situation.”

“You’re wrong to hold such bitterness against her, Luke. Why do you hate her so?”

“I’ve got my reasons. And you’d do well to take more stock in what Sarah says and less in what Hannah says.”

Hannah swallowed. Part of her wanted to step out and not eavesdrop. The other part wanted to stay put.

“I want to know what you have against Hannah.” Mary’s voice was different than Hannah had ever heard it.

“Fine. I’ll tell ya. If she’d agreed to go with us the night I was gonna propose, we wouldn’t have been out at the Knepps’ place.”

“What? You think you would’ve proposed with Hannah around? Just who are you foolin’? And if you want to blame someone for that night, blame me. I’m the one who was supposed to be driving. I’m the one who twisted the horse’s reins around the stob. I’m the one who didn’t want Sarah blabbing to the whole community about us being a couple when I didn’t know how you felt.”

“I … I … Hannah’s the one who’s been running around seeing that Mennonite behind everyone’s back.”

“And just who did you see behind everyone’s back during your
rumschpringe
, Luke Lapp?”

“You’re … you’re seeing this all from Hannah’s side.”

Luke sounded rattled, and Hannah was glad. She didn’t possess the strength to step into the room and argue with Luke. Besides, Mary was making headway—opening Luke’s eyes. Hannah was sure of it.

“This argument has gone on way too long,” Mary said.

Through the open bedroom door, Hannah saw Mary cross from the kitchen into the living room. Shaking, Hannah hid behind the doorframe and watched.

Mary thrust Luke’s coat and hat toward him. “If that’s how you feel about your sister, it’s time you left.” She opened the front door. “And ya need not bother returning.”

Luke scowled. “Will she fool you your whole life, Mary?”

Mary pointed out the door. Luke took his coat and hat and stormed out. Mary sat on the couch and started crying.

Hannah rested her head on the doorframe. Causing trouble seemed to be her gift, her destiny. She didn’t mean to. Sarah was right; Hannah was a tornado. Hannah had caused divisions in her own household and between Matthew and Elle and probably in every home within her district and beyond. She couldn’t take it any longer. There had to be something she could do.

“Hannah. Kumm raus.”

Chills ran up her back. That whisper was calling to her again. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. The tone was soft and pleading.

The cold floor made her sore, achy body hurt even more. She returned to her bed and crawled beneath the blankets. As she closed her eyes, her mind danced to a place where no one knew her, a place filled with people who accepted her as if she’d never worn a scarlet letter that she didn’t deserve.

Ohio came to mind again, and a half smile tugged at Hannah’s lips. Wouldn’t that be something—to leave all this behind? She could look up her Aunt Zabeth and maybe begin life anew.

The idea of leaving brought more than just hope of finding respect outside Owl’s Perch and of ending the wars that had begun between people she cared about. The dream seemed to open her heart to the possibility of forgiving those who’d wronged her and letting go of her bitterness. With each moment of reflection, the hateful anger that raged within her began to quiet.

If she left, Mary and Luke would come to a we-agree-to-disagree resolution of some type. They loved each other too much not to. Her father wouldn’t have to decide what to do with or about Hannah. She wouldn’t have to spend a lifetime facing people who believed the rumors or at least pondered the truth of them.

Some people in the district would disrespect Hannah for the rest of her life. From what she saw at the graveside, she had even come between
Mamm
and
Daed—Mamm
wanting to comfort her,
Daed
treating her like an unrepentant adulteress.

Mary and Luke, Matthew and Elle were paying a ridiculous price on her behalf, being divided because there was no proof of her innocence, only evidence of sin—the child she carried, the men she’d been seen with, the lies she’d told her parents over the years. Hannah sighed. That was only part of the problem she’d cause over the next few years.

But if she left … The thought pulled at her imagination.

Where would she get the cash to travel? She had very little money … except the funds she and Paul had in an account together. She didn’t have the bankbook, but Paul said she didn’t need it to make withdrawals or deposits. Nine hundred dollars of the money in that joint account was hers. That should be enough for all her needs until she found a job.

Maybe she could go to Ohio and find her Aunt Zabeth after all.

She would need to call the bank and see if she could withdraw money using her pictureless identification card. She only wanted to take what was hers. There was no way she’d ever touch Paul’s money.

The fanciful idea grew quickly. Dreaming of the possibilities, but too sore and tired to think anymore, Hannah dozed off.

She woke less than an hour later, feeling a bit of physical strength in spite of the emotional agony. Even before she opened her eyes, thoughts of leaving sailed across her soul, leaving some hope in their wake. The desire to leave this disgusting mess behind was stronger than anything she’d felt in her life.

Ohio
.

The compelling thought caused hope to stir within her.

She smelled coffee and eased out of bed.

As she took a shower and dressed, an even stronger thought entered her mind. The voice that had been whispering her name had carried a captivating message:
kumm raus
. Those words formed images of her packing and landing in a new place.

Was that really possible?

Titillating desire mixed with nervousness made her feel like the Hannah of old, the one she’d been before the attack. The world beyond Owl’s Perch was a big one, filled with good and bad people, to be sure. But she’d already encountered the worst life had to dish out, hadn’t she?

Maybe there was something better. Maybe there wasn’t. Either way, she was tired of life in Owl’s Perch. She’d tried to please everyone, especially Paul. Those nurses at Hershey Medical Center didn’t hang on what men thought or wanted, not like she had.

She slipped out of the bathroom and tiptoed to the bedroom window and gazed across the snow-covered fields. As she watched the sun dance off the white blanket that covered the tree limbs, she saw some Amish children sledding in the distance. If only she were young … The whispers of yesteryear rang in her head. But even that didn’t beckon to her like the dream of leaving.

Hannah closed the bedroom door and pulled a stack of paper from a drawer. Before she left, she had to do what she could do to repair some of the damage.

She wrote a long letter to Elle, praying she would accept her explanation and forgive Matthew for not being with her the night she’d had to face her father—the night Hannah needed Matthew. Elle would lose a good man who loved her dearly if she didn’t forgive Matthew his only fault, which was an overriding loyalty to the needy. Hannah had needed him more that night than Elle. Matthew knew that, and he’d acted on it. Surely Elle could see that if the child had been Matthew’s, he would never have begun a relationship with Elle. Elle was smart. She could see past the lies to the truth, especially if Hannah bared her heart on paper.

She wrote a letter of thanks to Matthew, the only male friend she had left and someone she would pray for the rest of her life. Pray for? Hannah smiled. Yes, she concluded as she shook the dust of this place off her feet. She would pray in her new life. She would.

She wrote to Luke, hoping he could find it in himself to stop blaming her for Mary’s injuries.

Weaving words of hope and forgiveness into the letter to her parents was the most difficult. She begged her
Daed
to understand that she needed to leave. There was no doubt in her mind that her decision to depart the Lapp household and separate herself from the community here was for the best. Then her shame would be counted as hers alone and not as a reflection on her family.

As she filled page after page with words of her new decision, the force of life slowly flowed back to her. The idea of leaving was terrifying. But staying would be slow death.

I’m not eighteen yet
.

That bit of realization stole her breath. It was thirteen days before she turned eighteen. For a moment she considered staying until her birthday. Hope drained from her. A sensation of losing her mind washed over her, and she knew without any doubt she couldn’t stay—not even until she became a legal adult.

The two people who would be the saddest would be her mother and her dear friend Mary. They would understand her plans, but Hannah wasn’t naive enough to think that they’d agree with her decision. They were too afraid of angering God, of severing ties, of Hannah getting hurt.

Hannah closed her eyes, contemplating whether
Mamm’s
and Mary’s future concerns for her were well-founded or not. She had no desire to make things worse by leaving without giving thought to what their reservations would be.

Hannah played out conversations in her mind, careful to hear every bit of apprehension her mother and Mary would share. But after considering all possible arguments either one would present, she decided fear was the only sound reason they’d have—fear of the unknown, of what might happen, of what might not happen.

The imagined conversation had brought up valid points. She might run into danger, might not get a job, might … might … might. The torments of what could happen frightened her. As Hannah burrowed deeper into her own thoughts, looking for answers, a startling revelation sprang forth. Fear might be her traveling companion, but she didn’t have to let it stop her. Perhaps she’d have to carry it with her, unable to get free of it. But she didn’t have to become immobilized by it.
That
was within her power to decide.

Excitement at that understanding grew, and desire to move forward became a part of her. With stacks of triple-folded letters all around her, Hannah took pen in hand to write the last letter before making her final plans to leave.

Hannah stacked the letters together and laid them inside the book Dr. Greenfield had given her. With trepidation she eased out to the kitchen to tell Mary of her plans. Hannah was surprised to see Matthew sitting at the kitchen table with Mary.

They turned to look at her. Relieved smiles erased the misery on their faces.

Matthew rose and pulled out a chair for her. “Good morning. Come sit.”

Glad to get off her feet, Hannah eased into the chair. “How are things with Elle?”

Matthew shrugged. “I heard from the Bylers that her father didn’t arrive that night due to the weather. She hired a driver the next day and went to meet him in Baltimore and spend a few days there. Other than that, I don’t know.”

Matthew poured a cup of coffee and passed it to Hannah. Mary dished out a gigantic cinnamon bun from a pan in the center of the table and placed it beside the cup. Deciding she was no longer too young for coffee, Hannah took a sip of the warm, brown liquid. She played with the metal cup in her hand, praying that Mary and Matthew would support her resolution. “I’m glad you’re both here,” she said, her voice sounding even more resolved than she felt. “I need to talk to you about some decisions I’ve made.”