Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (50 page)

I
n spite of the whispers inside her head that made her feel crazy, Sarah refused to give up on her quest. Hannah’s baby was alive and well, and someone had to know where. She tugged on the reins, guiding the horse to slow down. Since she had baked some goods for others in the community, Mamm had said she could go out visiting for a while as long as she didn’t go on foot or by bike. Clearly Daed hadn’t told her where he’d found Sarah during her last trip out
visiting
.

She pulled the buggy off the side of the snow-and-muck-covered dirt road just before the knoll. On the other side of this hill, maybe two hundred feet away from her, sat Luke’s shop, and not far to the side of that was Mrs. Waddell’s place.

John Yoder had come to the Lapp place, saying that he’d dropped Mary off at Luke’s and that he thought he saw Paul Waddell inside the shop too. Sarah would bet next year’s garden that the whole lot of them were meeting to discuss Hannah’s baby. She needed to know where the child was, and they weren’t going to tell her, so she’d just have to eavesdrop. Looping the reins around the fence, Sarah shivered. It was awful cold for March, and her wool cloak did nothing to stop the winds from howling up her skirts. Ignoring the constant murmuring in her head, she mapped out the best way to get to Luke’s harness shop without being seen. Pulling her cloak more tightly around her shoulders, she followed the side of the ridge that ran parallel to the shop. From the top of the ridge, she saw the roof. She sneaked behind the tree line that went up to the back edge of his place. Hurrying to the side of the shop, she kept a watch on the surrounding yards in case someone was out and about. Then she flattened her body against the side of the building.

If it was any season but winter, the windows would be open, and she’d be able to hear as clearly as if she were standing in the room with them. As it was, she couldn’t hear anything. She carefully peered in the window. Mary, Paul, and a young woman she didn’t recognize stood around looking at something in Paul’s hands. Luke was at the counter, showing a man some leather goods. As she adjusted to get a better angle, the woman beside Mary spotted her. The stranger, wearing a different type of prayer Kapp and cape dress than the Amish, gave Sarah a slight nod.

Sarah jumped back from the window and plastered her backside against the clapboard siding, hoping the girl didn’t call attention to her. There would be no way to explain herself, and then everyone would be sure she was crazy.

Sarah heard the door to the shop open.

The girl from inside peered around the side of the shop. “Hi,” she whispered, “my name’s Dorcas.”

A mixture of miserable feelings kept Sarah from finding her voice. If the fields weren’t so covered in snow, she’d take off running just so she wouldn’t have to answer any questions about her secretive behavior.

“You look awful worrisome over something.” The girl smiled and stepped closer. “Anything I can help you with?”

Dorcas’s kindness surprised Sarah, and she pointed at the building. “They say anything in there about a baby?”

“Why, no.”

Sarah pressed her back against the house, trying to escape her stare. “My sister had one. They told me it’s dead.”

Dorcas’s eyes focused on her, making her feel like the stranger cared what she thought. “Are you Hannah Lapp’s sister?”

She nodded. “You know her?”

“I haven’t met her, but I’ve heard plenty about her. Just last week I heard she came up pregnant outside of being married. I also heard her baby died.”

Shivers ran up and down Sarah. “It ain’t true. I know it’s not.”

“She wasn’t pregnant?”

Sarah trembled. “Yeah, that part’s true. But it didn’t die. Those who say it did must’ve made it up.”

Dorcas stepped in close and placed her hands on Sarah’s shoulders. “Maybe we should talk to someone and tell them what you’re thinking.”

“You can’t tell anybody. Please. If my Daed finds out …”

Lowering her hands from Sarah’s shoulders, Dorcas glanced around. “Are you Sarah?”

Sarah nodded. “What are they all looking at in there?”

“Mary, gave Paul some kind of quilt. It had a name.”

“The ‘Past and Future’ quilt?” Sarah shrieked before covering her mouth. Lowering her voice, she continued. “She can’t give that away to some half Englischer. That quilt’s got pieces of Lapp and Yoder family history in it. It even has material from my childhood. It’s an Amish quilt for Amish folk.”

Dorcas looked distressed before she turned and left without saying anything else. Feeling as if she’d been slapped in the face, Sarah hurried down the snow-trodden path she’d made on her way to the shop. Hoping no one saw her and that Dorcas didn’t tell anyone she’d been there, Sarah topped the hill and turned right, then began traipsing back toward the road.

“Sarah.” A whispery male voice echoed around her. Eeriness shot through her. The image of a newborn’s hand reaching through the snow dominated her mind. She feared she’d pass out from the horror of it.

The voice came again. A hand grabbed her. She screamed.

“Sarah, it’s me, Paul.”

She wheeled around.

The man was breathing hard, puffs of white clouds filling the air. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ve been trying to catch up with you.”

“The quilt’s not yours. Mary had no right—”

His face reflected no annoyance that she was speaking her mind. “I can see where that’d be upsetting, but the quilt was Mary’s to do with as she chose.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, and she realized he didn’t have on a coat. His blue eyes studied her face. “How are you, Sarah?”

Put to silence by his kindness, she folded her arms, feeling like a demanding child. “I’ll not accept any part of my sister’s past or future being in an Englischer’s life. And don’t try saying you’re not one—your ways speak louder than your sect’s name.”

He gave a slow nod. “I’m not trying to be Plain or English. My goal is to find the path God wants me to take. If parents or friends or relatives have a problem with that, they need to take it up with Him.”

“Where is she?”

A wobbly smile crossed Paul’s lips. “I’ve told you already. I honestly don’t know.”

The sound of snow crunching underfoot made them both look behind Paul. Dorcas carried something in her arms as she waved a hand and scurried toward them.

Visibly catching her breath, Dorcas held out a coat to Paul. “Mary, and Luke think we’ve gone back to Gram’s.”

Paul took the jacket and slid his arms into it, then turned to Sarah. “We know Hannah is safe. She left a message on the Yoders’ phone the other day.”

Sarah kicked a patch of snow. “I wasn’t asking about Hannah. I want to know about the baby.”

Paul took a step back, looking baffled. “Is that who you were asking about when you were at Gram’s?”

Sarah huffed. “Of course.”

Concern crinkled his forehead. “I assumed you were asking about your sister. Every answer I gave you was about Hannah. I didn’t mean to confuse you.”

Paul glanced at Dorcas before looking at the horizon. His eyes lingered there, and then he ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Sarah, but Matthew and Luke buried the baby just a few hours after she was born.”

The silence that filled Sarah lasted only a moment before the horrid shrieking started again. All she had wanted was to put Hannah in her place, and now she was guilty of shedding innocent blood.

Sarah tore out toward the horse and buggy.

“Sarah, wait,” Paul called after her.

She ran faster, crunching new snow underfoot. After crawling between the slats in the fence, she grabbed the reins and climbed into the buggy. Releasing the brake, she hollered for the horse to get moving. By the time she settled onto her seat, the horse was in motion. “The baby can’t be dead. She can’t be.”

Paul was briefly tempted to try to stop Sarah, but she needed much more help than a few minutes could give, especially from an outsider.

Hannah loved her deeply; he knew that. Still, he doubted if either sister realized how much of a connection they had with each other. A lot of Hannah’s letters over the years had centered on Sarah and how to help her cope with her anxiety. But he could only guess at all that had happened between these two young women in the past year.

Dorcas cleared her throat. “We probably better head back before we’re missed.”

The buggy moved farther down the road and closer to Sarah’s home. Poor girl, she lived under Zeb Lapp’s roof, with no safe place to share the pain she was carrying.

Dorcas tugged at his coat. “You okay?”

He turned and looked into her green eyes. “You did right to come get me, and I appreciate what you said to Sarah.” Paul sighed. “It’s such a mess, Dorcas. Everyone needs to see Hannah and set things right. Maybe I’m wrong not to go after her.”

“I’ll say it again, Paul. If I were Hannah, I’d never forgive you if you made me return to this situation. She knows how to reach you.”

Paul nodded. “I’ve told myself all that over and over.”

She gave a nod toward the narrow, snow-trodden path. “Can we go back to the shop to get your quilt and then go on to your gram’s now?” She turned and started down the trail.

As he fell into step behind her, resentment welled. Hannah was intentionally covering every trail, and she was good at it.

But maybe by the time he graduated in May, she would relax in her determination to use untraceable phone numbers and to send letters without giving a hint as to where she’d gone.

Or maybe she’d return by then.

T
he warm May air buzzed with insects. Under the shade of a black oak, Matthew held Elle’s soft hands and listened as she tried to convince herself she was doing the right thing.

Her father sat in his idling car, waiting for her. Although Matthew refused to say it aloud, it irked him that the man who had abandoned his daughter and left her in the hands of Amish neighbors more than a decade ago had returned wearing an air of superiority and hoping to keep his daughter from joining the faith. Matthew feared that Sid Leggett dished out more pain and confusion than he knew. Matthew had concerns about what this could mean for Elle and him, but her removal from Abigail and Kiah Zook’s home, for even a few months, meant far more than Sid understood.

The back door of the Zook home opened, and Abigail came out carrying a basket of home-baked goodies. The Zooks were childless, and their years of raising Elle had brought them untold peace as they slowly came to accept they’d bear no children of their own. Elle’s desire to be baptized into the faith and take an Amish husband had filled them with a hope nothing and no one else could have given them.

Sid stepped out of his car, took the basket from Abigail, and placed it in the trunk.

Matthew released Elle’s hand. “I’ll be here when you get back.” He didn’t ask for reassurances from her that she would return. What could she possibly say—besides promises she might not want to keep by the time the agreement with her father was up? Sid had told her that if she’d come away with him for six months, he would honor her desire to join the faith and marry Matthew.

Sid had wanted her to leave with him when he showed up in March, but the school board had been unable to find a replacement until last week, so Elle ended up almost finishing the school year. Sid had been determined to pull her away as soon as possible, probably afraid that, given more time, Elle and Matthew would connect so strongly she might refuse to go. Because Sid had managed to need Elle regularly over the last three months to help with his newly owned bakery, she’d spent most of her weekends with him in Baltimore.

Matthew thought it unfair to Elle to show his displeasure, so he had kept his mouth shut and been as supportive as he could.

Kiah came from the barn and walked to Elle. He wrapped her in his arms. “This is the right thing to do, Elle.” He pulled back from her, looking into her eyes. “You were born English. If that is your destiny, then embrace it. If it is not, then you’ll be glad for the proof this time away brings you.” He kissed her cheek.

Abigail moved forward. “You’ll always be welcome here, Elle. If you choose not to be baptized in our faith, you’ll be just as welcome then as you are now.”

Elle squeezed her tight. “I’m coming back.” She looked to Sid, who stood at the back of his car, watching her. “I’m coming back. I’m joining the faith and marrying Matthew.”

Her father closed the trunk. “We need to be going, Elle.”

She turned to Matthew. “I’ll talk him into allowing me to come for a visit, maybe two, between now and then. I agreed to no phone calls, but we can write each other.”

“He just wants you to be sure about your decision, Elle. I don’t much like it, but I understand it.”

Elle kissed his cheek. “I love you, Matthew.” She whispered the words against his skin before going to the car.

She waved as Sid pulled out of the driveway.

“Care to come in for a spell?” Kiah asked.

Matthew wasn’t in the mood for visiting or eating, but he nodded. “Abigail, did you save any of those goodies for a couple of hungry men?”

She smiled. “You know I did.”

It was late afternoon when Matthew climbed into his buggy to head for home. It’d be quite a long drive back to Owl’s Perch, but he needed the time alone. The rhythm of the horse’s hoofs against the pavement seemed to echo: wait, wait, wait, wait. The phrase beat against his temples, making him even more restless.

Matthew had a sudden urge to chop several cords of wood. He drew a deep breath. But what could he do? Sid was her father, and he’d begged Elle to give him a chance, saying he was sorry he ever left her. If she did this his way, he’d give his blessing on her decision to join the Amish faith. He’d even agreed to return for visits regularly as she raised her children right here, near Abigail and Kiah.

Matthew rode toward home in silence as the horse’s hoofs beat out the tempo. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. But he wasn’t sure whether he was waiting for Elle to marry him or to find out she never would.

Paul sat in the large auditorium, dressed in his blue cap and gown. Navy banners with gold tassels hung behind the department heads, who sat on stage facing the graduates. Rows of seats held what looked to be more than a thousand excited family members. His family was here, but they were far from thrilled. When he tried to hold a conversation with them of late, his voice seemed to echo back to him, unheard by his family.

He studied the rows of people in the stands until he spotted Dorcas. She waved, grinning broadly. He gave a slight dip of his head. She was excited enough to make up for his whole family. The work it had taken to get to this point hadn’t bypassed her understanding in the least. Tonight had been long awaited, although he’d just as soon not participate in the ceremony. They could have mailed him his diploma. But he was here because missing it would have caused continual hassles from his college friends.

His meeting with the preacher and bishop had come and gone and would come again in a few months. He was honest, and they found little fault in the way he’d lived his college life. But his secret relationship with Hannah caused them to bristle. It wouldn’t have bothered them to bring an Amish girl out of her community and into their fold—except she gave birth to a child before disappearing. Her pregnancy issue aside, the men expressed displeasure in Paul for keeping Hannah a secret from his family. He should have been more open with them.

The meeting ended with both men strongly requesting that Paul never attend another game and that he repent quietly in front of them. Paul said he’d consider their words. His lack of hearty agreement to do as they requested didn’t earn him any respect within the church or his family. The men prayed with him before they left, hoping he’d get on the right path to avoid his name going before the church.

But Paul had something else on his mind that his church leaders would be worried about. He wanted to continue his education and get a license in counseling. If families knew how to really talk and listen to each other, they’d bond rather than rip apart. He hadn’t had this desire until his life exploded and he saw how easily relationships were damaged and how hard they were to fix. He wanted not only to understand more about family dynamics and counseling, but he wanted to help others learn how to communicate. So while Hannah worked her way back to Owl’s Perch, he’d stay busy taking more classes and serving umpteen hours as an intern. Hopefully he’d come to understand more of what had brought such destruction to Hannah’s and his relationship and how to help them rebuild.

Life’s journey involved so many changes and winding roads that it was often hard to tell which direction was the right one. He’d never have imagined Hannah and he would end up like they had—separated when they were finally capable of being together. He wondered what Hannah was doing and if she realized what today was—or if she cared. It was hard imagining Hannah these days. He’d only seen her as the Amish girl next door, and he couldn’t envision who she was now.

She’d been gone two and a half months. How much longer would it take before she ran out of the money Matthew had given her and realized she couldn’t make it by herself? No one could. He considered himself reasonably independent, paying for his own education and living expenses, but he had a home in Maryland and at Gram’s place in Pennsylvania, not to mention his church as well as Gram’s—all filled with people who were there to help him.

Who was there for Hannah?

Standing barefoot in the budding garden, Hannah scraped the hoe along the soft dirt, ridging the potatoes as the last rays of sunlight danced on the toiled earth. Pausing, she gazed out over the fields. It was no wonder Zabeth didn’t mind living with such sparse niceties; the setting made up for any possible lack.

At the edge of the knoll sat a long wooden bench where she and Zabeth spent the evenings when Hannah was home. Each morning Hannah joined Zabeth at the piano, where she was learning praise songs she’d never heard before. She liked starting out the day hearing music fill the home and then carrying the tune with her wherever she went. They’d also spend a few minutes reading a Bible verse and saying a prayer. Zabeth looked at life differently than anyone Hannah had ever known, and she enjoyed learning from her.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the songbirds’ low tones as they began to settle for the night. The two and a half months she’d spent in Ohio had been beyond her wildest hopes—in spite of her heart yearning for things that could never be.

Zabeth’s health.

Paul’s love.

A memory of Paul surfaced, and she shuddered at the ache it caused. Hoping to find more peaceful thoughts, she jabbed the hoe into the dirt again. The counselors at the rape center said thoughts and emotions that ran in opposite directions were normal. They also said it helped to work through a wide variety of thoughts and feelings until a person could settle on something, like reading through a menu of meal options.

Though she found it hard to believe, she almost liked going to the center for the group-therapy sessions. Sometimes when they talked, a piece to her life’s puzzle seemed to float right into her hands. A lawyer Zabeth knew had taken care of getting a record of Hannah’s birth certificate and changing her last name.

The pleasure of the warm soil against her bare feet and the rich scent of earth filtering through the air faded as her latest round of frustrations with Faye crossed her mind. It was becoming clear that her first impression of Faye had been too kind. The woman seemed to think Zabeth ought to baby-sit for her at any time. When Faye had brought her two children by a few hours ago, Hannah had to insist she not leave Kevin and Lissa for the night. Thankfully the whole scenario took place out front, before Faye even got her children out of the car and while Zabeth was down for a nap. It was ridiculous for Faye to assume the children could spend the night when Hannah was on call and might have to leave. There was no way to know whether Zabeth would have the strength to tend to Kevin and Lissa or not. It wasn’t something Faye should be willing to test—for Zabeth’s or her children’s sake.

The screen door creaked, and Zabeth held up a glass of ice water. Hannah propped the hoe against a tree and went to her aunt.

Zabeth smiled. “The garden has never looked better, even in my best days.”

Hannah took the glass and helped her aunt down the steps. “Did you love gardening or just need the produce?”

Zabeth dipped her head. “Love is for people and music, not for plots of dirt.” She whispered the words conspiratorially while chuckling.

Hannah laughed. “Yeah, but without that dirt, it’d be hard to feel anything but hunger.”

Zabeth wrapped her arm around Hannah’s waist. “You’re too practical to be just eighteen.” Her laugh joined the rustling of the leaves, and Hannah took in the moment.