Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (40 page)

John Yoder came up behind his wife.

“Go home for today, Luke. Just go on home.” He shut the door.

Luke stared at the closed door. He knew it’d be a battle to win Mary back.

He moved to the steps of the porch, brushed snow off them with his boot, and sat down. He propped his elbows on his knees and stared out over the snow-covered land. Acknowledging his prejudice against Hannah hadn’t been easy. He was as good at pointing an accusing finger and deciding who was right and wrong as his father was.

The memory of his venom against his sister still haunted him, even in the wake of the forgiveness she’d offered him before she boarded the train. The horrid reality was, she’d been raped. And she had borne the trauma and the pregnancy in absolute isolation while rumors devastated her.

Luke groaned. “Father God, how could I have been so stupid? Please help Mary forgive me.”

The prayer crossed his lips, and he rose and walked to the buggy.

Before getting in, he looked toward the first story, where Mary slept these days since climbing steps was still difficult for her. She was standing at the window. He lifted his hand and held it there.

He saw her moving about, but she didn’t leave the window. A moment later a popping sound came from the window, and she lowered the top pane. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then stopped.

Luke lowered his hand. “I was wrong about Hannah.”

Her pale face didn’t change. She did that chintilting gesture, telling him that although her body still dealt with some frailties from their buggy accident, her will was not as easily defeated. Mary had a bold spunk he’d only become aware of recently. His sister’s influence, he was sure.

As he stood outside her home watching her, part of him wanted to speak up and let her know her place as his future wife. But without Mary’s frustration with his behavior, Luke wouldn’t have questioned whether he was right about Hannah. He would have pressed onward in his anger, blaming his sister for the horse-and-buggy accident and believing the scandal about her.

“Why, Luke?” Mary wiped a tear from her face. “Why couldn’t you believe her, believe me, when it would have made such a difference?”

There was no way to explain things he didn’t understand. There had been no proof of Hannah’s innocence.

He walked to the window, glad to see Mary up close, even if she was furious with him. He studied her features, looking for signs of strength and health. He wasn’t sure he saw any. “Hannah and I made our peace, and she forgave me before she left. Can you please consider forgiving me too?”

Mary shook her head. “Don’t fool yourself, Luke. If you hated Hannah when you thought our accident was her fault, you’ll hate me now that you see it was my fault.” Pain filled her eyes, and Luke despised himself even more. “I’m the one who wrapped the horse’s reins around the stob of the buggy. I was supposed to take the leads, but I let the horse meander onto that dirt road. Me, Luke, not Hannah.”

“Mary, please. I was so wrong to—”

Mary raised her hand, interrupting him. “Yeah, you and Sarah both. I always knew that girl had problems, but I thought I understood who you were—a loving, forgiving, kind man. But now I see how quick you are to judge. You allowed your thoughts to twist the truth into lies just so you could blame someone.” Mary closed the window and then the blinds.

Alliance, Ohio

S
unlight danced off the storefront windows as Hannah opened her eyes. Not only had she survived the night, but she felt reasonably warm. As she rose to her feet, two woolen blankets fell from her. No wonder she was so warm. But where had they come from?

The shuffling sound of shoes against the sidewalk made her look down the narrow entryway. A woman, about her mother’s age, came toward the store’s entrance, searching through her purse. When she was just a few feet from Hannah, she looked up, stopped abruptly, and gawked.

Hannah could imagine how out of place she must look, standing there with her long hair hanging loose under a prayer Kapp, two dresses lying on the ground along with blankets and a traveling bag. She stooped to gather her clothes. “Hello. I got caught out in the weather, and it was warmer back in this cubbyhole. I’ll be out of your way in a moment.” She glanced up.

The woman’s eyes grew large. “You stayed outside all night?”

Shoving the dresses into her bag, Hannah felt her cheeks flush. “I arrived by train, and the phone at the depot was missing.”

“Oh my goodness.” The woman took a set of keys out of her purse and shimmied past Hannah. “Come inside. I’ll get some coffee going and heat up a pastry while you use my phone.”

Hannah grabbed her bag, not at all sure what to do with the mystery blankets. She tossed them over her arm and followed the woman into the store. Warmth, blessed warmth, filled the very air she breathed. An aroma of old wood filled her nostrils. The square clock hanging on the wall said the time was a little before eight. She must have slept pretty hard after all.

The woman set her purse on a shelf behind the counter. “So what brings you to Alliance?”

The heated room and the promise of food suddenly lost their appeal. With so much to hide, Hannah couldn’t afford to start answering questions.

“How old are you, girl? You can’t be much more than sixteen.”

Hannah hated deception, but telling the truth—that she was a seventeen-year-old runaway—wasn’t an option. She looked out the glass door, considering whether to bolt or lie.

A long shadow in the shape of a man covered the sidewalk leading up to the door. When she looked farther down the street to see who the shadow belonged to, all she saw was a blur moving away from her. A hazy memory of a man covering her with a blanket came back to her.

“I … I think I see someone I need to speak with.” Without another word, Hannah left the store. Once on the sidewalk, she spotted a tall, black, teenage boy walking away from her. He turned his head and stole a glance at her, then kept going.

She strode toward him, holding up the blankets. “Are these yours?”

He stopped and turned before shrugging. “You got them now, so they’re yours.”

The dark-skinned youth was probably only a year or so younger than Hannah, but she felt considerably older. Maybe she’d never feel young again.

“If you put these on me, I really appreciate it.”

He shrugged again. “It was nothing. You looked terrified when you saw me, but you fell asleep the minute I put the first blanket on you.”

Hannah sighed. “That seems to be the story of my life these days: terrified or asleep.”

He held out his hand. “I’m Kendrick.”

She shook his hand, realizing she’d never spoken with a black person before. “Hannah.”

He released her hand. “So, Hannah, what’s with the odd getup? You Amish or a lost pilgrim?”

Fresh realization of how she looked bore down on her.

“Well, don’t panic, or I’ll have to put those blankets over you so you’ll go back to sleep.” His voice carried enough sarcasm that she should feel intimidated, but she didn’t. Something about him seemed trustworthy.

“Kendrick, I’m in a fix.” Trying to think in spite of the grief that clung to her, she decided to aim for a bit of humor. “But if you could assist me without asking any questions, you’d help keep a pilgrim alive through another harsh winter.”

He chuckled. “I ain’t never met a pilgrim.”

“That’s okay. Before today I’d never met a black man.”

He studied her for a moment. “Well, I guess I better make a good impression then.” He smiled. “What can I do to help?”

Hannah told him the name of her aunt she was looking for and the address she’d memorized from the letter she’d discovered back home.

He pulled a pencil and paper out of his pocket and jotted down the info. “I don’t have money for car insurance, so I don’t drive. I walk to work and stuff. Guess that’s a good thing, since that’s why I saw you and brought you some blankets from my house.”

She held out the blankets again. “Your mother will be looking for these soon enough.”

He nodded and took them. “One of my co-workers at the pizza place has a connection to the Amish. I’ll give him a call and see if he can get her phone number. If that doesn’t work, we’ll find you a driver.”

He led her to a drugstore that had a pay phone inside. While he made the call, she went into the rest room, determined to shed her Amish look. If her parents had sent word to the Ohio Amish to search for her, she didn’t want them or the police to spot her as an Amish girl.

From the backseat of the car, Hannah watched out the side window. The driver scratched his head. “By the way, I don’t really care what you call me as long as you call me for dinner, but my name’s Gideon.”

“Thank you for driving me around today, Gideon.”

He smiled and nodded without asking her name. He was a large man who looked old enough to be a grandfather, but Kendrick said he knew his way around this region of Ohio. While on the phone with Kendrick, Gideon had agreed to chauffeur her around for several days if necessary, but he hadn’t asked any questions then either. He’d promised Kendrick they’d do their best to find her aunt today, but because Hannah wasn’t willing to chance not having a warm place to stay by nightfall, Gideon had helped her locate an inexpensive motel room before they set out. He’d even offered for her to stay with him and his wife tonight, but she declined. She couldn’t imagine staying with strangers and fielding the questions they might ask.

The motel was an awful place, a battered one-story brick building with a decaying roof and peeling paint around barred windows, but she wasn’t willing to pay for a better place. If she didn’t find her aunt, she’d need to conserve what little money she had.

While the car jolted along the rough roads, grief and hope dragged her first one way and then another. The last six months of her life had been horrible, but if she could find her aunt, everything might change.

The snow-covered landscape was sprinkled with homes and farmsteads. In spite of her heartache, inklings of excitement danced within her as she thought of meeting the aunt she hadn’t known existed until six months ago.

The driver’s voice broke through the long silence. “Hanover Place should be just a few more miles ahead, miss.”

“Thank you.”

A beautiful brick house came into sight. Electric lights from inside shone warmly against the grayness of the day. Something akin to desire—or was it coveting?—ran through her. Did people who lived like that ever get cold and hungry or stay in a rundown motel?

A mile or so later Gideon turned right and continued a few more miles before slowing the car. Snow crunched under its tires as he pulled onto the shoulder of the road. “This is it—4201 Hanover Place.” He pointed to the faded address on a rusty mailbox that sat near a long, curved driveway covered in untracked snow.

He inched the car along the drive, and they passed a small shed that had seen better days. The scene felt right somehow, like a snapshot of a hundred no-longer-used outbuildings she’d grown up around. It wasn’t well cared for, but it matched real life: used and still standing.

Gideon stopped the car in front of a house as worn-out as the shed. The peeling paint on the clapboard house was its best feature. Parts of the roof were caved in, as if something had smashed on top of it. Boards crisscrossed the doors and windows, pinned in place with rusty nails. She couldn’t imagine why someone would bother to board up such a dilapidated house.

She pulled the door handle and climbed out of the car. Surely there had to be another house somewhere around here. She made a complete turn, looking in all directions for signs of a different homestead along this driveway. All she saw were gently rolling hills, tattered fences, oak trees, and the old shed. Her focus returned to the house.

“You sure this is the right address?” Gideon’s question bounced around inside her brain.

Was it possible she’d memorized the address wrong? The wind sliced through her clothing, making her wish she hadn’t tried to hide her Amish roots so much that she’d left her homemade woolen shawl along with her apron and Kapp back at the motel.

“Young lady, we ain’t beat yet. I promise you that.”

She could hear the man, but she couldn’t find her way to answer him.

Since burying baby Rachel three days ago, she’d dreamed of arriving at Zabeth’s. This was to be her refuge, her direction, her help.

Hannah searched herself to find some sliver of hope to hold on to. But her dream of finding a safe haven in Ohio appeared every bit as ruined as her relationship with Paul.

Soft cries from nondescript voices floated across the fields, becoming more distinct with each second that passed.
Nevertheless
, they cried.

The whisper grew louder.
Nevertheless
.

Nevertheless
.

It was the word that had come to her on the train, giving her hope and strength.

She looked at the house. “Nevertheless,” she whispered.

Darkness overtook the afternoon as Gideon headed them back to the motel.

“I don’t mean to pry or nothing …” His gravelly voice filled the vehicle. “But I’m gonna stick by you until we find your aunt. Maybe you’re remembering that address wrong.”

Too drained to respond, Hannah shrugged. “Maybe.”

The man glanced back and forth between the road and the rearview mirror. “Just take a few relaxing breaths, and try to think.” The skin around his sagging eyes crinkled in a smile. “If you come up with a different address, we can give it a try tomorrow.”

Nodding, she closed her eyes and backtracked through time. She remembered discovering the envelope in her parents’ bedroom. The realization that her father had a sister, maybe even a twin sister, had caused curiosity to overpower her, and she’d dared to read the letter.

Hannah shifted against the cloth car seat, trying to recall what had been written in the upper-left corner of the envelope. There hadn’t been a first name, only a last name—Bender—and the street address: 4201 Hanover Place, Winding Creek, Ohio. She could see it clearly in her mind’s eye.

Against her will, a few tears ran down her cheeks. The place was nothing but an unlivable shambles.

In the rearview mirror she saw Gideon avert his eyes to watch the road. She wiped her face and sat up straight. “Th-that’s the address I remember.”

He nodded. “Well, I was in a bind like this in my younger days. You got a name for this relative, right?”

“I think so.”

“Then that’s where we’ll begin tomorrow.” Gideon drove up to the motel entrance and stopped the car. “You sure about staying here? My wife is a wonderful cook.” He patted his rounded belly and laughed. “She’s got some Plain roots in her childhood.” He smiled, as if he knew Hannah’s secret.