Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (95 page)

Paul cupped Sarah’s hand, making her ease up on her grip. “You’re hurting your sister.”

Sarah stopped squeezing but held on. “But who … who would have done such a thing?”

Hannah stared at the grave, goose flesh crawling over her whole body. The perimeter of the tiny grave was edged in white marble the size of bricks and the area surrounding the spot was meticulous, almost like a lawn.

“Someone who cares,” Paul offered.

Hannah wrapped her blanket-shawl tighter and moved forward. Sarah balked, and Hannah freed herself of her sister’s grip and took a step forward, a thousand memories and emotions ripping at her.

“I … I’m not ready. I can’t!” Sarah’s scream echoed over the field.

Ignoring her sister, Hannah went to the grave, stunned at what she saw. Thoughts of the many seasons—snowy winters, rainy springs, sweltering summers, and glorious falls—ran through her mind. Yet someone had been faithful. Behind her she could hear Paul talking in muted tones to Sarah.

The sense of loss seemed to be without end, but even so she could feel the trust she had in God to find a way to make up for it. That was part of who He was, wasn’t it? Thieves came in and stole, and God redeemed. But standing here right now, she didn’t feel redeemed, not when it came to certain things. She was redeemed by Him in a thousand ways—Martin, Lissa, Kevin, school, Dr. Lehman, the Tuesday quiltings, and her Amish friends. Still, the loss of a thousand hopes she’d had before the attack stood firm.

Paul eased up beside her, hands folded and reverent. He stared at the ground. “I’m sorry you dealt with this alone.”

If the idea that someone had been taking care of the grave wasn’t enough, his reaction made her heart stir. She’d thought all these years that he was … incapable of understanding. Yet as surely as she knew he’d once loved her as she had him, she understood the violence she’d experienced hadn’t happened just to her. It had happened to them.

Seems like I should have recognized this long before now
.

With her heart beating wildly and her eyes misting, she held her hand out for his. “Nevertheless,” she whispered.

He placed his warm, rough hand inside hers, and there in the quiet fields ablaze in fall colors, an unexpected healing soothed her heart. The quiet between them left only the sounds of leaves rustling.

She knelt, releasing Paul’s hand. It seemed this odd journey back to Owl’s Perch had made her more ready to let go of the past than she’d ever been. She wasn’t running from it anymore. She had it in her to rise and move on. And the difference brought a sense of well-being she’d never known existed for anyone, and certainly not for someone who’d been assaulted.

Sarah approached the grave and knelt. “All this time I wanted the baby to be alive …”

Hannah put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Choose reality, Sarah. It’s the only place where strength and faith can begin to work.”

Sarah placed the palm of her hand over the grave.

Hannah squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “It’s time to let go and live.”

“You ever gonna do anything to hunt that guy down?” Sarah’s voice trembled.

Hannah closed her eyes, asking herself the same question. Cool air whipped through the trees, making the leaves sound like rain as they swirled across the ground. “No,” she whispered. “What was done happened over three years ago. I can’t identify him. I have no idea what type of car, nothing. The only way the police could start to track him down would be to take Rachel from her resting place so DNA testing could be done, but that would only help if he’s already been caught for another crime. I won’t do that to Rachel … or to me.” She rubbed her sister’s back. “Right or wrong, I choose to let go and move on. It’s the way we were taught, ya?”

Sarah nodded. “Ya.”

Hannah removed her arm. When she and Sarah began to shift in order to stand, Paul held one hand out for each of them. Sarah took his hand, and he helped her get to her feet. Hannah stood up on her own.

“I bet Daed’s been doing this, keeping the grave tended to.”

“Sarah …”

“No,” she interrupted, “you don’t know what he’s like when nobody’s looking. He wrote in a diary about watching for you to return. Pages of stuff, but when I found his secret stash, he burned everything, as if he could think it and feel it but he couldn’t stand anyone knowing.”

Unwilling to argue, Hannah began walking. The trip back toward the Esh home was done in silence. An odd sense of peace surrounded her more than the darkness of the night. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Sarah seemed to have found some resolution about life too.

But somebody had put time and money into edging the perimeter of the tiny grave in white marble.

Someone cared. It couldn’t be Daed, could it?

T
he sounds of hoofbeats made all three of them look up. Jacob stopped the cart beside them, looking directly at Hannah. “Mamm said I needed to see you first and then give you and Sarah a ride back to Luke and Mary’s. Mammi Annie said to tell you that Lissa wanted to go on home with her.”

Hannah removed the blanket and passed it to Paul. “I’m not heading back right now, but hop down, and let’s check out that shoulder.” She had Jacob do several slow range-of-motion moves. “On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, how does it feel?”

“About a three, maybe less.”

“I think you’re fine without an x-ray for now, but if the pain increases or your range of motion decreases, go in to be checked out. And all those things I just had you do with your arm, do them four times a day, slowly. Okay?”

“Sure. Thanks, Hannah. I guess being a nurse comes in handy, especially out here in the sticks, huh?”

Unsure if he’d understand that she wasn’t even a registered LPN yet, she opted not to try to explain it. “It did today.”

Sarah gave Hannah a hug. “I’m really tired.” She said nothing to Jacob, her old beau, as she climbed into the work cart. “You’ll wake me in the morning before you pull out?”

Hannah nodded. “Sure. Good night, Sarah.”

In the Esh yard, Matthew’s parents, along with a few other men and women, stood chatting in small groups. Kathryn was next to a driver’s car, saying goodbye to several men from her community, including a man Hannah recognized as Kathryn’s Daed. And the way one of the young men hovered near her, he was either Kathryn’s boyfriend or wanted to be.

Closer to the house, Hannah’s father glanced up from the men he was chatting with but then acted like he didn’t see her. She and Paul walked toward the side yard, where a kerosene heater shed light on a circle of chairs. The tables looked barren and well-worn without the fabric or food covering them. Mary, Luke, and Matthew sat around the heater, talking. Three empty chairs sat in the circle, probably an invitation for her and Paul. If Hannah had her intuition going right, the other chair was for Kathryn.

Of all the day-to-day events that’d taken place while she’d been gone, Matthew and Elle’s breakup was probably the most surprising. But Matthew seemed at peace with it, maybe even relieved about it.

More than ready for a few quiet moments alone, Hannah turned to Paul. “I’m going inside. I’m sure there’s more I can help with in the kitchen.”

“Thank you for doing that for Sarah.”

The distant whispers of just how in step she and Paul could be circled inside her. She didn’t respond to him, as guilt concerning Martin nibbled at her.

The house appeared empty as she entered it. Void of earlier voices, the kitchen felt secure in ways it couldn’t before. The lowing of cows waiting to be fed drifted through the slightly open window and across the room. A kerosene lamp on the windowsill above the sink added a glow not much brighter than two electric night-lights. She moved to the faucet and turned it on, letting the water get warm before she filled the sink and squirted dishwashing liquid into it. As she continued washing the pans, women occasionally came in and gathered their clean dishes. Most of them spoke a reserved farewell on their way out, and she returned it. If they didn’t speak, she respected their silence and held her tongue.

The lantern sputtered as it began to run out of fuel. Through the window, she saw several families climb into their buggies and head out, leaving only one more buggy waiting for its owner—her Daed’s. But her mother was sitting inside it.

“Hannah.”

Her muscles tightened at the sound of her father’s voice. Turning her head to face him, she held her sudsy hands over the edge of the sink. “Yes?”

Shadows angled this way and that as the flames of the lamp wavered. Her father stood there, looking as if he had something to say but couldn’t. She grabbed a towel off the peg beside the sink and dried her hands.

He eased into the room, crunching the brim of his hat in his hands. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes.” She stepped away from the sink.

“You … you’ll write to your mother more this time, ya?”

How could so much lie between two people that they couldn’t manage to say anything worthwhile? “Yes.”

“Good.” He started to leave, but with his head ducked and his shoulders stooped, he didn’t appear to have said what he came to say.

“Daed?”

He turned, staring at her as if he still wasn’t sure who she was.

“I was innocent.”

He wiped his forehead with the back of his thumb. “None of us are ever innocent. I thought you’d understand that much by now.”

She fought to keep her shoulders back and chin up. His words were both true and a lie. But he’d never see his part, only hers. Is that what he came in to tell her, that regardless of all he’d accused her of that she hadn’t done, she still bore the mark of a sinner?

And with his words spoken, her father turned to leave the house.

“Daed?”

He faced her again.

“The grave site … it … it’s been taken care of …”

He clenched his jaw. “I’m not as disloyal as you seem to think.”

“We’re all disloyal. I thought you’d understand that by now.”

He stood firm, staring at her. “You win, Hannah. I haven’t been able to stay a step ahead of you since you turned fifteen. I haven’t done anything right. But as God is my witness, I tried.”

“I wasn’t up-front about Paul, and maybe I was wrong about that, but you knew the truth of what’d happened the night of the attack, yet somehow later on you completely justified abandoning me. No, worse, you turned on me and brought the church leaders with you.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but then, without another word, he walked out, pulling the door closed behind him.

The door eased open again, and Paul stepped inside. “You okay?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Always.” She cleared her throat, gaining control of her emotions.

“Everyone’s gone but Luke, Mary, Matthew, Kathryn, and us. Matthew’s parents walked to the Yoder place to look at some lumber John has stored that could be used for rebuilding. I guess Mary will talk to Luke soon, and we’ll call it a night.” He walked to the table and grabbed a slice of homemade bread from the cutting board. “Since you’re leaving tomorrow and we may never meet up again under relaxed and friendly circumstances, I was hoping you’d join us outside.” He breathed in the aroma from the slice of bread and gazed up at her. He’d always said he could tell whether homemade bread was made by her hands or not, because he could smell the heat, like the fires from her soul.

Turning her back to him, she reached for a clean pan and then began drying it. They’d walked to the grave and shared something she could never share with another human; he understood things about her no one else ever would. And he forgave her in ways she hadn’t known she needed until it was given to her, freely. But now she needed distance.

“I think it would do Sarah a lot of good if you could return and help her find a passion of some sort. She’s too old not to have a job that brings her a sense of self-esteem and satisfaction—something she can look at and feel good about.”

Hannah faced him. “Like I told Sarah, I can’t.”

He sat on the edge of the table and propped one foot on a chair. “Yeah, I know, you’re too busy until after the first of the year. But maybe after the snows are gone? I think it’s important. It’d be better if it could be done before winter sets in, but if you can’t, you can’t.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

“I wish I had a clue, but I’m confident you can think of something.”

She leaned against the sink. “Sarah should have met Zabeth and lived in that cabin with her.”

“Ah, she smiles at the thought of it.” Paul’s lopsided grin made her remember a hundred others. “What was she like?”

A male voice startled her. Thinking the voice came from the front of the house, she went to the dark foyer and peered out the open front door. Paul followed her.

Luke stood at the foot of the steps. “What were you thinking?”

Mary smoothed her hands over her protruding tummy, her eyes locked on the ground. “I was afraid you’d leave if we couldn’t marry right away. Your father left his roots, and Hannah too, and you were angry with your Daed and the church leaders for how they treated your sister, and antsy and talking about going into Lancaster to work and—”

“Those are your excuses for lying to me?” Luke interrupted her. “Telling me the doctor gave you a clean bill of health? You told me—”

She held up her hand, stopping him from saying more. “I know, but I lied to myself. I thought I was trusting God when I was using that as an excuse to get what I wanted. I … I didn’t want to lose you.”

Hannah eased the door shut, stopping it just short of clicking. From inside the house, she could still hear their voices, but she tried not to listen. “Those words are a red flag, too often spoken right before lies and cover-ups.”

“Look at me, Hannah.”

“What?”

“If you’re talking about yourself, it’s time to let it go,” Paul whispered. “Just let it go.”

The weight of everything seemed to close in—the dark, the empty house, the closeness, the whispers between them. Unable to find her voice and void of knowing what to say if she could, she just stood there, staring at him. Did he feel it too?

He motioned toward the kitchen. “I … I think I’ll go out the side door and meet up with Matthew.”

He turned, leaving her alone.

Guilt hounding her, Hannah moved back to the kitchen, now completely dark since the lamp was out of fuel, and sat in a ladder-back chair. She couldn’t return to the Yoders just yet. She’d told Mary she’d stay close to answer questions Luke might have. Otherwise she’d have returned to Ohio earlier. She hoped he’d have questions and not just anger.

Hannah rested her forehead against her fingertips. That’s where she should be, in Ohio with Martin, not here building bridges with Paul.

Matthew came in the side door and motioned for her. “Luke’s asking for ya.”

She willed the confusion to slide into its hidden place, assured it’d find its way free to be wrestled with later. “Okay.” She rose and silently walked out the back door, thoughts of both Martin and Paul lingering.

Kathryn, Paul, Luke, and Mary were sitting around the kerosene heater, stark silence reigning. No one else remained on Esh property. Hannah took a seat in one of the empty chairs, and Matthew followed suit.

“So this is why you stayed?” Luke’s sharp tone interrupted her thoughts.

She sat up, clearing her throat. “Yes.”

Her brother’s face was rigid, jaw set as he stared at the ground. The concern in Mary’s eyes was deep, fear of losing his love and respect, of bearing his anger in various measures and ways for years to come.

Kathryn stood. “I … I thought we were going to talk business. I think I’ll call it a day. Good night.” She walked toward the house, and Matthew jumped to his feet and went with her.

Hannah leaned in, catching Luke’s eyes. “You have a right to be angry, but please don’t hold on to this.”

“Mary should have trusted me to make the right decision based on truth and trusted God with her future.” Luke slumped, brooding.

Hannah warmed her hands near the red-faced heater, unable to sit still and unwilling to look at Paul.

Luke gestured in the air, exasperation evident. “So now what?”

Without her permission, Hannah’s eyes moved to Paul and stayed. His blue eyes focused on hers as if Luke’s question hung between them rather than between Mary and him.

Shifting, Hannah turned her attention to Luke. “Dr. Lehman will find a good obstetrician willing to take her in spite of her impending due date and lack of insurance.”

“Explain to me everything, starting with why her doctor didn’t want her to get married.”

Hannah explained all of it, careful to interject assurances as often as possible.

Luke studied his wife, seemingly torn between anger and complete terror for her safety. “How can he be so sure this plan will work?”

“Because Dr. Lehman is incredibly intelligent and spent hours tracking down every test and every doctor’s report concerning Mary’s health after the accident.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at Mary. He gestured toward Hannah. “Swear to me you two are hiding nothing else.”

Hannah held out her hands, palms up. “Nothing. I promise.”

“And she and the baby are completely safe?”

She lowered her hands. “As safe as any healthy woman giving birth using modern technology and a skilled surgeon.”

Luke slid back in his chair, anger radiating off of him. “I can’t just let this go. We should have waited to marry.”

Mary broke into tears. “You can’t regret marrying me. You just can’t. It will taint …” She stood and hurried across the yard toward the back fields where her parents’ property met Esh land. And Luke let her go.

Paul shifted in his chair. “Luke.”

He looked at Paul, and the two men seemed to hold a silent conversation. Her brother finally nodded, stood, and took off after his wife. “Mary, wait.”

Hannah fidgeted with a button on her skirt. “Your silence seems more powerful than most people’s words. I’d like to know that trick.”