Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (75 page)

“Phone girl, I’ll need to call you back in a few. Okay?”

The next sound she heard was the complete silence of a cell-phone disconnection. Wondering what she was doing here rather than being there to help Martin, she closed her phone. At sixty-two, Laura was a skilled nanny, but Hannah wanted to be the one with him going through whatever the day brought.

Looking at the map one last time, she thought about calling Dr. Lehman. He was more than just her boss, and he regularly visited relatives in Lancaster, some forty miles southeast of here, so he might be able to help her. But rather than chance disturbing him, she decided to continue driving until she found a landmark she recognized. She pulled back onto the road. After a solid hour and many times of turning around, she found the road that led to Owl’s Perch. Martin hadn’t called her back, and she hadn’t been able to reach him. His voice mail picked up immediately, which meant his phone was turned off. Whatever was going on, she bet his Saturday was tough, nanny’s help or not.

The oddest sensation slid up her back as she drove alongside the Susquehanna River. She’d been in this very spot three years ago, heading for Hershey Medical Center because Luke and Mary had been taken there by helicopter after their accident. She remembered the days that followed, months of hiding her rape from everyone but her parents and hoping against hope that she wouldn’t lose Paul.

“Brilliant, Hannah, you were afraid of losing a jerk.” She mumbled the words, then turned the radio up louder, trying to drown out the whispers of resentment against him. The familiar territory had to be the reason for the fresh edge of offense that cut against her insides. In all the time she’d known Paul, he’d lived on a college campus not far from here, except for the summers, when he stayed with his Gram. She’d only seen this area twice before, once on the way to the hospital to see Luke and Mary and again about two weeks later on the way back home, but in each instance she’d been keenly aware that she was in Paul’s stomping grounds. At the time she felt connected to him, hopeful they could overcome the obstacles that stood between them and getting married.

Silly, childish dreams
.

Needing a stronger diversion than worship songs, she pushed the radio button, jumping through the stations until she found a familiar song by Rascal Flatts, “I’m Moving On.” She cranked up the sound full blast and sang along, assuring her anxieties that she would survive the oddity of being here as well as the misery of not being with Lissa throughout whatever ordeal she faced.

The waters of the Susquehanna weren’t brown and frothy this time. The river looked crystal clear as the afternoon sun rode across the ripples. In less than an hour she’d be in Owl’s Perch, and as badly as she wanted to arrive, she didn’t want to face her father. What was she going to say to him?

A dozen songs later, that question was still on her mind as she drove into her parents’ driveway. Her mouth dry and palms sweaty, she got out of her car. The cool September breeze played with her dress and loose strands of her pinned-up hair, but there wasn’t anyone in sight, and the wood doors on the house were shut. Without any sounds of voices or movement coming through the screened windows, she was pretty confident no one was home. She knocked loudly anyway. It was rare for everyone to be gone if it wasn’t a church day.

When no one answered, she made a complete circle, taking in the old place, its chicken coop, barns, lean-to, and smokehouse. A sense of nostalgia reverberated through her as she absorbed the homestead where she’d been born and her mother before her. The tops of the huge oaks rustled. She walked to the hand pump, pushed and pulled the handle until water poured forth, and filled a tin cup. Taking a sip of the cool water, Hannah sensed an odd connectedness to her ancestors. A greatgrandfather on her mother’s side had dug this well, and springs that fed it had been sustaining her family for generations.

The quiet peacefulness moved through her, making her realize how much she’d once cherished parts of the Plain life. She hadn’t expected this, and for the first time in a long time, she wished she understood herself better. Spotting the garden, she walked up the small hill to the edge of it. The last of the corn had been harvested weeks ago, and now all that remained were the cut-off brown stalks. The pea plants had been pulled up for the season. The cold-weather plants—broccoli, cauliflower, and cabbage—were thriving. She’d loved gardening from the first time her Daed had placed seeds in the palms of her hands and helped her plant them. Daed and she had come to the garden every day, watching, weeding, and watering. In the end those seeds produced enough food for her family to eat well all year long. Suddenly missing who her Daed and she had once been, her eyes misted. How much easier it would be to sort through her feelings if she understood the magnitude of emotions that came out of nowhere and took her to places she didn’t know existed. Perhaps in that one thing, she and Sarah weren’t so very different. Her sister seemed to respond immediately to the emotions that marched through her, and Hannah stood against them, but either way they left a mark.

Her mind returned to the strange conversation she’d had with Sarah—the jumbled words and thoughts that circled with no destination. She needed to find out what was going on with her. Deciding to go see Luke and Mary for answers, she went to her car. She backed out of the driveway and headed down the familiar dirt road she used to walk regularly when going to Gram’s. The hairs on her arms stood on end as the paved road turned into a gravel one, the one where the attack had taken place. She locked her car doors and turned the music up to blaring, trying not to think about it. A few minutes later she pulled into Luke’s driveway.

Getting out of the car, she noticed that his shop didn’t appear to be open. The windows, blinds, and doors were closed. It seemed like he’d have the place open on a Saturday. She knocked loudly before trying the door.

When it opened, she stepped inside. The shadowy place didn’t look anything like a usable shop. It looked like a storage room for buggy parts, not leather goods. Waiting at the foot of the stairs that led to the second-floor apartment, Hannah called, “Luke? Mary?”

The door at the top of the steps creaked open, and a half-dressed young man stepped out. “They don’t live here. Never have. We rent the place.”

He might be Amish, but she couldn’t tell for sure since he only had on a sleeveless T-shirt and pants.

He descended a few steps.

Hannah backed up. “I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

“No interruption at all.”

Luke and Mary never lived in the home above the harness shop, both of which were built by the community just for them? Unwilling to ask any questions, Hannah went to her car.

Opening the door to the vehicle, she spotted Katie Waddell’s white clapboard home amid fenced pasturelands. The once-worn footpath from here to Gram’s was thick with grass. Hannah closed the door to her car. Maybe it was time to push beyond her fears. She headed for the old farmhouse. Except for a few fences that needed mending, the place looked good. Her heart pounded something fierce as she crossed Gram’s screened porch to the back door.

“Look at me, Hannah.”
As if catapulted back in time, she could hear Paul’s voice and feel the soft rumble of his words against her soul.
“I’ve been aching to talk to you before I return to college. There are some things I just can’t write in a letter.”

She shuddered, trying to dismiss the memory and ignore the feelings that washed over her as she knocked on the door. No one answered. She peered through the gape in the curtains that hung over the glass part of the door and knocked louder. After several minutes she gave up, left the porch, and moved to the side yard, thinking Gram might be in the garden. But one look at the garden said no one had been in it for quite awhile. Paul’s old rattletrap of a truck sat under a pavilion near the garden, the hood up and the engine dangling above by a thick chain.

Eeriness crawled over her skin as if she were trapped in one of those
Twilight Zone
episodes Martin had told her about. Whatever was going on, life seemed to have changed for everyone else as much as it had for her. She headed for her car. It was time to find the hotel near Harrisburg where Martin had made reservations for her and settle in for the night. She could have stayed at a hotel closer to her community, but according to Martin, the one he’d chosen was nicer: very safe, with breakfast included, and a business center in case she needed Internet access. Unfortunately she’d be stuck there all day tomorrow since it was a church day. Visits by estranged Amish may not be tolerated any day, but especially on a Sunday. And Matthew had made it clear she needed to wait until after the funeral to be seen by the community as a whole and by his family in particular. If that’s how strongly Matthew felt, her father would magnify that sentiment a thousandfold.

Regardless of what it took, she’d get through the next few days with her dignity intact. They’d trampled her spirit once. She’d not give them another chance.

H
annah.

Paul woke with a start.

The nighttime breeze rustled through the sheers of the half-open window. He turned the alarm clock toward him. Three a.m. Regardless of the time, it wasn’t likely he’d go back to sleep.

He pushed her “Past and Future” quilt off him.

“Past and Future.” Paul stood and began folding the quilt. Even in the dim glow of street lamps, he could see the handiwork of the Amish girl who’d promised to marry him. Last Tuesday he’d found her—seen her, rather—in front of an upscale Ohio home in the embrace of her husband.

It was time to get this thing off his bed and out of his apartment. Mary had given it to him after Hannah left, saying it had more of Hannah in it than anything else. It was supposed to keep him warm until she returned and they wed. He wasn’t sure what to do with it just yet, but it wasn’t staying here.

Dark gave way to light as he sat with a coffee cup and a stack of his clients’ files on the table in front of him. Reading and taking notes on Andrew Brown’s family, he continued to map out the issues each family member dealt with to see if he could find a common thread, a connected problem he was missing. He’d head for work, then go to Gram’s and mend a few fences before nightfall, but right now these moments without interruption belonged to him.

The shrill ring of his phone ended his private study time, and he knew Monday had begun.

He rose from the table and lifted the receiver. “Paul Waddell.”

“Paul, it’s me, Luke. I hate to call you so early in the morning. Should have thought to contact you sooner, but it’s been crazy around here.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now, but I thought I’d call anyway.”

“I’ve been in the mountains all weekend, camped out with friends.”

“E and L shops burned to the ground Friday.”

Paul’s thoughts jumped to each person in the Lapp and Esh families. “I’m really sorry. Is everyone okay?”

“No.” Luke paused. “David died.” His voice wavered. “And Matthew was injured. Aside from needing therapy and some scarring on his back and shoulders, Matthew will be fine.” Luke’s words came out quiet and slow. “David’s funeral is this afternoon, one o’clock, at our Old Order cemetery.”

Funeral
. Hating what this meant for Matthew and his family, Paul couldn’t manage to respond.

“Things haven’t work out between Elle and Matthew, and … well … I think it’d do him good for as many friends as can to be there.”

“Absolutely, I’ll be there.”

“Good. I knew I could depend on you. But, uh, look, I should warn you.” Luke took a heavy breath and talked even slower. “Sarah found the paper you brought to the house with Hannah’s phone number and address. She called her and asked her to come home. We haven’t seen anything of her yet, but Sarah swears she promised to come for a few days and was supposed to be here two days ago. Sarah came up missing early Saturday morning, and when we figured out she’d hired a driver to take her into Harrisburg, we all went there looking for her. We found her at the train station, determined to wait for Hannah.”

Paul appreciated the sentiments behind Luke’s explanation, knowing his friend was trying to prepare him for bumping into Hannah. “Well, if she does come, it’ll be a good time for your community and family to make peace with her before any more time passes. I’ll see you this afternoon, and if you need anything, just call.”

Paul drove to work, second-guessing himself as to whether he should take the day off or not. He pulled into his parking space and headed for his office. Throughout the morning he tried to hear every word his clients spoke, but he found the clock jumping in time and he’d taken no notes during the sessions. It wasn’t so much knowing Hannah was supposed to come back as feeling concern for how her family would react to her. She bore few traits of having been raised Plain. That was obvious the moment he saw her last week—wearing a short-sleeved, thin cotton dress with no pleats while laughing and kissing a man.

Feeling like a second-rate counselor, he checked the clock. “Andrew, our time is up for today, but if you can allow extra time next week, I’d like to go back over some of this.”

“My wife likes what she’s seeing in me. I do too. Even m-my son seems better.”

Andrew’s stumbling over the word
my
reminded Paul they had quite a bit of road to cover before healing included the father-and-son relationship.

Paul rose. “I’d like to see your wife and children again as soon as it fits their schedule.”

Andrew followed his cue and stood. “You’re a lot of help, Paul. I haven’t lost it with the kids for over a month.”

He walked Andrew out of his office and down the carpeted stairway. They stopped at the receptionist’s desk, which sat in the large open area of the old foyer, dining room, and living room combo—all of which were furnished in home-style comfort for clients of the Better Path. The office space and mission was an old homestead, and everything in it was designed to retain the homey feel.

“Halley, would you put Andrew on the books for the same time next week, and he won’t be charged for this week.”

“Really?” Andrew looked surprised.

Although guilt shadowed Paul, he couldn’t tell Andrew why he wasn’t charging him. It’d taken too long to build a rapport with the man to undermine his confidence with a confession of not hearing all he had said today. “Take care, Andrew, and I’ll see you next week.” He turned back to Halley. “Did you reach my appointments for this afternoon and reschedule?”

“Yes. And Dorcas called.”

Paul nodded. “Did she say what she needed?”

“No, but she asked you to call her before you leave today.”

“Okay, thanks.” Paul went back up the stairs and into his office. It’d feel good to talk with Dorcas, to try to connect with reality over any lingering dreams of Hannah’s returning to him.

He lifted the phone and dialed the Miller home.

“Hello.” Dorcas sounded tired.

“Good morning. What’s up?”

“Paul.” The excitement in her tone was undeniable, and he smiled.

“Did you doubt I’d call back?”

“I wasn’t sure how long it’d take you to get the message and then find the time. I wanted to remind you of Evelyn’s birthday today. Everyone’s meeting here for dinner. Your parents are arriving around five. I’d hoped you could be here by seven.”

He’d totally forgotten about her sister’s birthday celebration tonight. “Did you hear about the fire in Owl’s Perch?”

“Yeah, I heard. My mother’s cousin Jeanie called. That’s so awful.”

“I’m going to the funeral, and I want to stay around here today in case there’s anything I can do for Matthew. Sorry.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “I should have thought of that. Of course you’re going.”

On a whim Paul came up with a plan she would like. “Since I’m pulling weekend duty at the clinic, I’m off tomorrow. I need to get some fences mended at Gram’s. Care to spend the day there with me?”

“You’re serious?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Well … no reason. You’ve just barely shown any interest in … well, you know, and your invitation is just surprising, that’s all.”

He paused, willing himself to open up to her. “I’ve been thinking about things this morning, and maybe I’d held on to the idea of Hannah’s coming back because I didn’t want to admit defeat more than I actually wanted her back.”

“That makes sense.”

“I guess I should’ve figured this out way before now.”

“Do you think she’ll return for the funeral?”

“Maybe, but I’m sure you’ll feel better when you hear that she’s married.”

“She’s married?”

“Yes, I found out when I went to Ohio last week.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Confident she wasn’t all that sorry, he imagined she was probably relieved and quickly becoming hopeful. Paul placed his latest notes on Andrew into the appropriate file. “That’s nice of you, but it’s water under the bridge and long gone. Do you want to come to Gram’s tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

He slid the file into the cabinet and locked it. “I’ll come get you in the morning, and we’ll go out for breakfast first.”

“Oh, Paul, that sounds wonderful.”

“Good. I need to run. The funeral starts in an hour.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”

“Sure thing. Bye.” Paul hung up the phone, feeling more on track with his life than he had in years. Why had it taken seeing Hannah married and happy before he could connect with his own life?

He grabbed his suit jacket and headed for his car. Driving toward the cemetery, Paul was thinking about the Esh and Lapp families, wondering what, if anything, he could do to make this time easier. He’d sure like to help get the shop back in working condition—if they would accept his help. The community itself felt nothing but distrust for Paul, as if maybe it was his fault Hannah had been pregnant and had run away. Thankfully, Luke and Matthew didn’t feel that way, but whether Paul would be allowed to pitch in and help rebuild was another matter.

Speculating whether Hannah would actually come home for this or not, he trailed behind the long line of horses and buggies as they slowly wound their way to the cemetery. Thoughts of the last two years with Dorcas floated through his mind. Maybe he hadn’t been waiting for Hannah to return. She’d been seventeen years old and six months pregnant when he left her standing there crying after him. Maybe guilt had more to do with his waiting all this time.

The stark black buggies set against a nearby field with large rolls of golden, baled hay looked picturesque, but the reality of life, anyone’s life, never seemed to match the peaceful image of a quick glimpse. He parked his car near a group of horses and carriages in a dirt and gravel area across the street from the burial spot. Those who’d come to pay their respects quietly made their way to the site.

Unlike most Amish funerals, all parts of the ritual would be conducted with a closed casket because of the fire. Their heritage kept them from having a photo to set up on a table near the casket like
Englischers
might.

Hanging back with the other non-Amish neighbors, Paul spotted Matthew near the grave as men prepared to lower the casket into the ground using ropes. Matthew was the only Amish man here without a jacket on. It had to be due to the burns on his back. Since Paul had come to assure Matthew he had people who cared, he stepped around the crowd, including Hannah’s parents and younger siblings, and went to Matthew and offered his hand. “I’m really sorry.”

Matthew didn’t even look up as he shook Paul’s hand. “
Ya
. It’s a miserable thing.”

Luke caught Paul’s eye and gave a nod, and Paul returned it. Mary stood beside him, leaning heavily into her husband.

He reached to clasp Matthew’s shoulder, but Matthew pulled away. “Second-degree burns leave the nerves exposed. It’s more pain than I can tolerate most days.”

Wishing for the right words, Paul nodded. “I should have thought … Matthew, when you’re well enough and begin clearing the debris and rebuilding, I want to help.”

Staring at the freshly dug hole, Matthew sighed. “Hannah came to see me Saturday.” He gave a stiff shrug. “I wasn’t sure what I thought of her returning—still not. But I’m sure I came across unwelcoming and—”

An Amish man spoke loudly. “Dear ones, let’s bow in silence.”

The weight of today settled over Paul as he closed his eyes. The gentle winds across his face and the warmth of the sun made the day one that should be enjoyed. Instead the focus was on loss.

Death seemed like such an odd thing. One did not have to die or know anyone who’d died to experience it. Death came without pallbearers or grave sites. The death of a dream, hope, and even love. He hadn’t realized love could die. One day breathing. One day in poor health. One day dead. Never to be resurrected.

But it didn’t have to be that way, not for every family that became ill. What had happened to Hannah and him had been horrible, but the death of a family—one that had taken a vow before God—that’s where he wanted to stop death. Like with Andrew’s family and …

Another image of Dorcas filled his mind, making him long to connect with life. It was too precious and too short not to spend it on love and family. Life beckoned to be lived. Love called to be embraced. And he intended to do both.

When the preacher said
amen
, another Amish man stepped forward and began reading a hymn while the pallbearers slowly placed dirt on the coffin. Paul looked through the crowd, praying for the families that were represented. Movement off to the left caught his eye. He glanced in that direction, just beyond the trees and near the shoulder of the road where a few cars had parked.

Hannah
.

She was wearing a dark green dress and leaning against a gold Honda a hundred feet away. She removed the sunglasses from her face. An air of control and poise surrounded her like an aura. He thought she was right not to come too close, to handle this quietly and with no fanfare. Yet she was present for Matthew’s sake … and maybe her own. Even if her people could recognize her, they wouldn’t see her where she stood, not unless—