Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (85 page)

D
arkness covered the neighborhood as Hannah pulled into Martin’s driveway at seven thirty. The question-and-answer time during today’s Tuesday quilting ran late, and then paperwork concerning recent births had to be filed before she left. On her way across the lawn, she smelled smoke. She sniffed the air—no, she smelled burned food.

The back door flung open, and a blur of Martin holding a smoldering cookie sheet flashed before her just as he hurled the smoking things in her direction. She screamed and jumped back. Shock registered on his face as their eyes met.

He broke into uproarious laughter. “Hannah, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” With the pan in hand, he stepped outside and walked to her, still laughing. “But it’s what you get for not being here to prevent this.”

Kevin and Lissa stood in the doorway, watching. Hannah tried to keep a straight face, but it was hopeless. “I don’t know what’s funnier, burned cookies sailing through the air at me or you in pink oven mitts with a fringed towel tucked in your jeans.”

He dropped the pan, jerked the pink things off, and threw them on the ground. “What pink mitts?”

“Too late. I know what I saw, Martin.”

“And whose fault is it that my home, a.k.a. the bachelor pad, has pink oven mittens?”

“Yours. You bought them. I thought you’d done it for me, but obviously I stand corrected.” She picked up a burned round thing from the grass. “What was this before you got hold of it?”

“Chocolate-chip cookie dough,” Lissa yelled out the back door. Kevin folded his arms over his chest, obviously not happy about the burned cookies.

Hannah bit her bottom lip, thoroughly soaking in the man in front of her. His eyes reflected amusement, and there was a bit of white flour in his thick, dark hair.

He came within inches of her. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She pulled the towel loose from his jeans. “Need some help?”

“Always.” He kissed her cheek while his face reflected desire for a real kiss.

“What’s going on?”

He rolled his eyes. “Kevin needs six dozen homemade cookies for tomorrow.”

“Six dozen? Tomorrow?”

He nodded.

She put the towel around his neck and pulled him closer. “Why didn’t we know this before tonight?”

“I plead the Fifth.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She brushed her lips against his.

Lissa banged on the glass of the open storm door. “Hannah, come see what Uncle Martin did.”

She narrowed her eyes at him before entering the house. The counters were covered in dirty dishes, and the sink had remnants of burned cookies. “My kitchen!” She clamped her hands over her mouth.

Martin laughed. “You can have it.”

Kevin huffed loudly. “I’ll never have those cookies, and everyone will …”

Martin held out his hand in stop-sign fashion. “Relax, Kevin. I’ll get this done.” Martin looked to Hannah. “I will.”

Lissa frowned at Kevin. “I believe you, Uncle Martin.”

Kevin turned and walked out of the room, mumbling, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Lissa followed him, wagging her finger and complaining at him.

Martin shoved one hand into his jean pocket. “He’s a bit sensitive right now. If this doesn’t get done, in his eyes it’ll be like screaming to the whole school that he doesn’t have a mother.”

“Ah, would you like some help?”

He gestured at the counters and sink. “Think I need it?” His face became serious. “Some days what Faye’s done to those kids makes me so …”

Hannah placed her fingers over his lips. “They have you, and we both know that’s saying more than Kevin and Lissa can possibly understand right now.”

Martin kissed her fingers. “And you.”

“And me.” She glanced at the stove. “Hey, 450 degrees?”

“I was hoping to get the cookies done faster that way.”

“And how’s that working for you?”

“Sarcasm. You know, I wouldn’t have coached you to hone that skill had I known you’d use it on me. We need to make a fresh pot of coffee and get the kids in bed … please.” He elongated the last word, letting her know he was more than ready for a break from his niece and nephew.

“While you read to them, I’ll clean the kitchen. After we tuck them in for the night, we’ll get a fresh start. Okay?”

“That seems like a lot of work for a man who only wants some time with his girl.”

She grabbed the coffee decanter. “Regular or decaf?”

“Regular and lots of it.”

With a long wooden peel in hand, Matthew removed two loaves of bread from the commercial oven. He set them to the side and pulled out a few more. After ten days in Baltimore, grappling through the fog of grief had left him more apathetic than renewed. Still, that was more welcome than the intense pain of loss.

Twinges of guilt pricked him each time he remembered that he’d not kept his word to Kathryn about returning within a few days. He’d called and left a message with Nate, asking him to tell her he was staying longer.

Her voice circled inside his head.
You can rebuild …

But rebuilding seemed wrong. Why should he get to restore his life when David’s was over? Matthew swallowed hard, unable to answer that question.

The bell on the front door of the bakery rang, letting him know the first customers of the day had arrived. What irked him was when he did feel something other than apathy, it tended to be loneliness, and yet he was right here with Elle. It wouldn’t be fair to think she could remove any of his grief and confusion, but he’d expected to feel a closeness of some sort.

Elle seemed content enough here. They’d attended a huge Englischer church on Sunday. It’d been … interesting and overwhelming, and he was glad that while on that extended buggy ride, Hannah had told him about the many differences in the Englischer world.

Elle’s father, Sid, came into the kitchen through the swinging door. “Hey, Matthew, why don’t you slip out of that apron and handle the customers while I take over back here?”

Removing the apron, Matthew went to the customer counter with the glass displays filled with baked goods. Sid had made a dozen statements about how much customers were responding to his presence in the bakery. Although he thought it possible Elle wasn’t aware, he wasn’t fooled. Sid wanted him at the bakery, not because he needed his help, but because his Amish clothing and accent appealed to customers.

Matthew waited on customers and ran the register. Sid kept the baked goods coming until it was time to shut off the ovens and clean up the kitchen. The place was quiet during the afternoon lull when the bell on the front door rang.

Elle breezed in, all smiles as she slid out of her jacket. “Sorry, the photo shoot took longer than we expected.”

Sid came out of the kitchen and looked at Matthew. “You won.”

Matthew nodded. “Yep.”

Elle huffed. “Won what?”

Sid wiped a wet cloth across the counter. “He said you’d be here around two. I said closer to four. You’re always late. We just bet as to how late. You’re not nearly as late as usual since Matthew’s around.”

Elle slid the apron strap over her head. “Are you betting, Matthew?”

“Won a loaf of stale bread to feed to the ducks and the right to leave thirty minutes early.”

“Well done.” Elle kissed his cheek.

“Think so? It seems a bit stiff for a man who’s not actually employed by your father.”

She giggled. “I guess I didn’t think about it like that.”

Sid passed the wet cloth to Elle, a teasing gleam in his eye. “But you have to stay late to make up for the time you’ve missed.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Be nice, Dad. We have company.”

He moved to a table and sat down. “Matthew, I know you didn’t like it when Elle left Owl’s Perch, and I probably should’ve handled that better, but I think you should consider moving in with us. We got plenty of room and plenty of work.”

Matthew pulled out a chair from a nearby table, turned it around, and straddled it. “Why me?”

Sid frowned. “What?”

“Why me? There are plenty of people needing jobs.”

“Because it’d make Elle happy.”

Nodding her head, she smiled broadly, making Matthew wonder if she was in on this with her dad or just an innocent bystander.

Either way, they both knew he was a baptized member of the faith, so this request meant they were asking him to leave the faith, didn’t it? He laid his arms across the chair’s back. “What made ya want me to come here rather than Elle comin’ to Owl’s Perch and joinin’ the faith as she agreed?”

“Well, I’ve thought your joining us here was a good idea for over a year, and when your shop burned down, I thought maybe you’d be open to the idea of coming here.”

The man made it sound like he’d offered this while considering Matthew’s feelings or best interests, but he doubted if Sid was anyone’s friend. The man was nice enough outwardly, but from Matthew’s perspective every bit of niceness was wrapped around a selfish motive. He seemed to only know the fine art of using people. He’d bailed on his daughter, leaving her to be raised by an Amish family that had befriended her mother before she passed. Never once did he make contact or pay the Zooks anything for childcare. Then he showed up when he needed Elle’s help with the bakery, and now—

“You want me to move in?”

Sid nodded. “Sure. I’d love it.”

“And if I remove all signs of being Amish, would ya love it then?”

Elle wheeled to face him, shock written across her features. “Matthew.”

Matthew shrugged. “It’s a fair question.”

Sid strummed his fingers on the table, looking as if he’d expected this conversation. “This is a good business, and I’m willing to bring you into it because Elle loves you. You can live rent free and have all the time you want with my daughter. But for this arrangement, wearing your Amish garb is little to ask of you.”

“Dad, you’re assuming I’ll stay here. I invited Matthew so we could have some time together, but I might move back and become Amish.”

Sid rose. “You’ve been saying that for over two years, Elle. Face it, you like it here more than you like the Plain life, but the decision is yours.”

She scowled at her dad before she held her hand out for Matthew’s. “We’re leaving for the afternoon, okay?”

“You guys have fun.”

Matthew rose and helped Elle on with her jacket before sliding into his own. As they stepped onto the sidewalk, the afternoon sun against their backs helped take the edge off the cool nip in the air.

She slid her hand into his. “I’m sorry about that. He learned a few months back how much better the Amish bakeries do. I guess he thinks we should try to use that pull if we can. He’d have me wearing the Amish clothing if I would, but I won’t. If I wore the dress now after being established as not Amish, it’d come across as fake and offensive to our customers.”

Matthew wasn’t impressed with her stance. She had known how her father felt, his reasoning and motives, when she invited him here. He freed his hand and slid it into his jacket pocket.

She grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking, and stared into his eyes. “I … I wanted to give you as much time here as I could before we talked, but if you don’t like it here and want us to return to Owl’s Perch, I’m ready to join the faith and make that commitment.”

It seemed he should feel excited, but he did at least sense a break in the fog of confusion.

“Matthew?”

He gazed into the eyes that used to mean hope and a future. Pulling away, he started walking again. She quietly strolled beside him. He’d come here wanting something he thought might still exist, love for Elle. But the longer he stayed, the more he knew that whether she was here or in Owl’s Perch, whether Englischer or Old Order Amish, he had no desire to marry her anymore.

Tired of looking for distractions and a way to ease his pain, Matthew felt something click into place. Odd as it seemed, he almost sensed that he
heard
something click into place. Maybe he hadn’t really been waiting for Elle to return but only thought he was. Maybe that was the distraction God had used or allowed, but in reality he was waiting for something else.

Someone else.

Elle tugged on his arm. “Hey, let’s go to the Inner Harbor tonight.”