“Hannah? You there, hon?”
Hannah couldn’t choke out a sound. She closed her phone and turned it off.
BY NOONDAY, BUGGIES packed the driveway and yard and lined the road leading to the house. Their Amish friends came bearing food, shovels, and other tools to begin clearing away the debris as best they could with the intermittent downpours of rain. Dump trucks from various businesses they owned began to appear to haul away the wreckage. By breakfast the next day, much of the heap had been cleared and lumber began to arrive. Helpful Amish swarmed over the farm like busy ants intent on doing good.
Hannah had watched this scene play out many times, but her heart always warmed at the generosity of her people.
“I thought I would make coffee soup for breakfast,” Sarah said.
“What?” Angie gave a shudder.
“It’s good.” Hannah’s mouth watered at the thought. “She’ll pour coffee over saltines or bread—I like it best with saltines—then pour on milk and sugar. Wait until you try it.”
“I can wait. It sounds nasty. I like my coffee in a cup with cream and sugar.”
“It’s better than it sounds.” Hannah accepted the first bowl of coffee soup and carried it into the living room. The Amish flooding into the house jabbered in a mixture of German and English, and the familiarity brought her childhood flooding back. Mamm always fixed coffee soup for her birthday. She could still remember the first time she’d been allowed to have it— on her fifth birthday. She finished the coffee, milk, and crackers that made up the soup and asked for more. Her mother had obliged. The caffeine had kept Hannah chattering to her mother far into the night.
Even Angie admitted the coffee soup was pretty good. Hannah finished her food and pulled out her last quilt square. Angie put down her word processor, and her dark eyes studied Hannah.
“I shudder to say anything, but should I just call your editor and tell her you’re not going to make it?”
“I don’t see any way I’m going to get it done in time. The quilt still needs to be assembled and all the quilting done. Ask her if she’d be willing to use my grandmother’s quilt. The big one on Irene’s bed.”
“That won’t work. She wants one of your designs. I’ll just tell her you’ll make your original deadline.”
Sarah came to the door. “Don’t do that. The women will be here in a few minutes to do it.”
Hannah’s head came up to snare Sarah’s gaze. “I don’t understand. Why would they help me?”
“Because I asked them to.” Sarah held Hannah’s mother’s keepsake box in her hands. “I am going to confess at the next meeting.”
Hannah waited to hear what Sarah meant. They’d been through enough already—she didn’t want to drag Sarah into more turmoil.
“I took the ring, Hannah. I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
Hannah’s needle stilled in her hands. “You took my mother’s ring? Why?” Wasn’t it bad enough that her family had been stripped from her? Did Sarah and Luca have to begrudge her small mementos? She tried to keep her anger in check, but her foot began to tap restlessly.
“It was worth a great deal of money,” she said. “When we were engaged, Luca talked of nothing but expanding the greenhouse, of what he could do once he saved enough. I had nothing but love. I was here cleaning after the murders and I found it. It did no one any good in that box. I thought your mother would have wanted it to be used for something worthy. I sold it. I told Luca it was my dowry and he never asked where the money came from.”
“I see,” Hannah said. “You had no right.” Hannah had looked at the ring many times. It belonged to her. Her mother would have wanted her to have it.
“I know. Can you forgive me?” Sarah asked again, advancing into the room. “I’m so sorry, Hannah. I judged you when I should have judged myself. Maybe I didn’t want you to expose what I’d done.”
Hannah wanted to hold on to her anger. “Does Luca know?”
Sarah sniffed. “Not yet. I’ll tell him tonight. I wanted to beg your forgiveness first.”
“You lied to him. Won’t he be angry? I have to be honest, Sarah—I’m angry. And I’m hurt.” Hannah found lies the hardest to forgive. They struck at the core of any trusting relationship, and since Reece, trust came hard to her. The lies about the ring had slipped off Sarah’s tongue all too easily.
“Yes, but he loves me. He will forgive me.”
“Can you get the ring back? I really want it, Sarah.”
Sarah’s eyes clouded. “I’m sure it’s been sold by now. You haven’t said if you forgive me.”
Hannah tried to struggle past the anger that still simmered. Sarah had no right to sell her mother’s ring. It was easy for Sarah to ask for forgiveness. She was the thief. But saying “I’m sorry” wouldn’t bring the ring back to Hannah. It was one thing to ask for forgiveness, but could Sarah extend it as easily as she asked for it?
“Sarah, what would you do if you’d married a husband who beat you?” she asked. She’d thought her friend would answer quickly and tersely, but she kept silent and pondered the question.
“I don’t know,” Sarah said after Hannah began to think she wouldn’t answer at all. “I would not want my girls to see such a thing. I would not want to experience anything like that. I hope I would try to love the violence out of him.”
“Some people can’t be loved enough,” Hannah said. “I tried. Reece was too far gone.”
“Not for God,” Sarah said quickly.
“But I’m not God,” Hannah said. “And I did my best.” But had she? She’d been quick to slip out to sales to look for quilts in spite of his orders. Had she ever put him first? She’d been so lonely in the early months, so ill equipped for marriage. At least half the blame was probably hers.
Sarah put her hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “I’m not going to judge you, Hannah. I don’t know what shoes you’ve walked in.” She released her and went to pull out the quilting frame. “Now let’s get your quilt finished. The others are coming. We can talk later. But please, I so want your forgiveness.”
The hard coil of bitterness began to unwind in Hannah’s heart at the desperate plea in Sarah’s voice. “I forgive you.” She said the words not knowing if she meant them.
Hannah heard them then, women talking and laughing as they poured into the house with their needles and thimbles. Thunder rolled and rain swept the windows all afternoon, but none of them minded. By suppertime, the quilt was finished, and Hannah knew love never died. It just sometimes went underground.
MATT HAD NEVER seen anything like the busyness going on outside two days after the fire. Sunday had been the Amish day of rest, but they tackled the job with gusto on Monday. No wonder Hannah missed the warmth and love of these people. He turned to work on the pancakes he was making for the crowd eating at tables outside.
“We’ll have a new barn up by the weekend if the rain holds off,” Luca said over breakfast. “When the tornado struck southern Indiana a few years ago, Amish friends from all over had the mess cleaned up and barns rebuilt in a couple of weeks.”
“I believe it,” Matt said. “The storm coming through here over the next few days is supposed to be ferocious with heavy rains and flooding.” Hannah stood beside him as he worked. His movements were awkward because of his burned hands. “Hannah”—he spoke too softly for anyone but her to hear—“I checked on the cemeteries in Wabash. No luck.”
She inhaled softly. “Thanks for checking. It is as I suspected. He told me one of his drinking buddies brought my daughter here and gave her away.”
More of Reece’s lies? A grave would have proved his daughter wasn’t hers, but Matt’s hope had faded fast over the past week. His cell phone rang as he poured more batter into the skillet.
Hannah tried to take the spatula from him, but Luca shook his head and took his place instead. Matt shrugged and glanced at the caller ID. His grandmother’s name rolled across the screen. “Hey, Trudy,” he said. He noticed he had missed two calls thi
s morning. Must have been when he was in the shower.
Her voice was at a near shriek. “I can’t find Caitlin!”
“Wait, I don’t understand. Caitlin is at your house?”
“Gina dropped her off this morning for a few hours, said she had something she had to take care of. She said she’d call you to come get her. I fixed Caitlin’s breakfast, and when I called her to come eat, I couldn’t find her. I’ve looked everywhere.”
For the rest of his life, Matt would remember how this moment felt: the way his blood seemed to freeze in his veins, then pulsed to his feet, leaving his vision swimming. Time slowed to a standstill. He could hear the oil sizzling, Luca clearing his throat, Hannah sipping her coffee. Every muscle in his throat spasmed, and he couldn’t force out a word.
With a supreme effort, Matt got his tongue to work. “Trudy, calm down.” Stand back. Think this through. It was up to him to rescue his daughter. What would he do if he got a call about a missing child? “When did you see her last?”
“She was coloring on the porch. About half an hour ago.”
“When did you notice she was missing?” He was aware of Luca and Hannah looking at him with wide eyes.
“I called her for breakfast. When she didn’t come, I yelled again, then went to the porch. I couldn’t find her anywhere. She’s not in the barn either.”
Matt forced himself not to react, to hold his composure. “I’ll be right there. I’ll call headquarters.”
He turned his back on the Schwartzes and called Captain Sturgis. He promised to send out a deputy to meet him at his grandmother’s. When Matt slipped his phone onto his belt, he turned to face Hannah and Luca. “My daughter is missing. I’ve got to go.”
Hannah put her hand to her mouth. “I’ll come with you.”
He needed all the help he could get. Caitlin needed to be found quickly. She was more important than his reputation with Hannah. “Thanks.”
“I will come also,” Luca said. “Will you drive us?”
“I’ll get Angie too. We’ll round up other friends to help search. Maybe she wandered off.”
Matt’s eyes burned unexpectedly. He’d heard about the way the Amish rallied around folks in need, even those who weren’t part of their church, but this was the first time he’d seen it firsthand. “Thanks,” he mumbled, unable to get out more than that.
Hannah sprang for the steps. “Angie, Sarah, come now. We need to help look for Matt’s five-year-old daughter.”
Hearing the words spoken out loud by someone else was almost as painful as hearing them the first time. A missing child. Every parent’s nightmare. He’d been on the other end a time or two—the deputy talking to parents in such a situation. He should have been more compassionate, more sympathetic. Now he knew what it was like to hear the world shatter in a moment.
Focus. He had to focus. “The others can follow in Angie’s car. I need to go now,” he told Luca. He called Ajax, and the dog came running.
“I’m ready.” The other man grabbed his black hat and slapped it over his Dutch boy haircut.
Luca followed Matt to the SUV. Hannah rushed to join them. “Angie will bring Sarah and any others with her.” She got in the front seat with him, and Luca got in the back with the dog.
The tires shrieked in protest when Matt tromped on the gas pedal. It echoed the scream building in his own head—a babbling plea begging God to spare his baby girl. Hannah tried to talk to him, to pray with him, but the words didn’t penetrate the pain blocking out all coherent thought. He knew he should confess everything, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work.
The clouds released a burst of heavy rain. Matt barreled through the downpour to his grandmother’s. As he pulled in the drive, he heard the sound of a siren screaming toward them. Never before had he experienced the way that familiar sound could seem so ominous, a harbinger of personal, devastating pain.
He slammed on the brakes and hurtled from the vehicle into the driving rain. The last time he’d seen her, Caitlin had come running to meet him. Taking the steps in one leap, he flung open the door and rushed into the house.
His grandmother was wrapping sandwiches in the kitchen. “You’ll need these,” she said, thrusting a bag of food into his hand.
As if he could even think about eating until his daughter was safe in his arms. He took the bag but put it on the counter. “Was she upset this morning?”
“Yes. She said she wanted to go home.” Trudy’s voice held censure. She stared at Hannah, then glanced at Matt. Her gaze lingered on Luca standing by the door with his hat in his hands. “What are you thinking to bring one of them here?”
Matt didn’t have time for her prejudices. Ajax pressed his nose against his leg and whined. Matt swallowed his turmoil. He had to focus.
Car doors slammed, and moments later a fist pounded on the door. “Sheriff’s department,” Blake called.
“Come on in,” Matt yelled.
Blake and another deputy joined them in the kitchen. “You okay, buddy?” Blake asked.
“Caitlin’s gone,” he told the deputies.
“Could she have run away?”
“Maybe.” He could only hope and pray that was what had happened and he’d find her dragging her backpack along the road. People around here were decent people. Maybe one would stop and help. The thought of his daughter in this storm was too much to bear.
Matt stepped onto the porch where the toys lay. Her backpack was here too. So much for hoping she’d run off to find him. Ajax went to the pack and whined. Matt wished he could do the same. The wind blew rain onto the porch, and droplets pummeled him.
Hannah followed him. “She didn’t take her backpack of toys. If she was running away, wouldn’t she take that?”
“That would be my guess.”
“How long has she been here?”
“My sister brought her this morning.” Gina was probably one of the calls he missed. He’d been too upset to listen to her message, but he’d better. What if someone took Caitlin and left a message? “I had some messages.” He pulled out his cell phone and called up his voice mail. Both were from Gina saying she was going to go talk to Vanessa. She asked him to go get Caitlin from Trudy’s.
He put his cell phone away and glanced at Hannah. Confession trembled on his tongue. But nothing would be gained by causing that uproar now. It would only take the focus off finding his daughter. He made himself go through her backpack. It contained only her doll, Jenny, and the doll’s clothing.
“If someone took her, wouldn’t they be likely to take her toys to keep her quiet?” Hannah asked.
Reece would. Matt realized he had to tell the truth for law enforcement to be able to help him. He had to tell them to put out an APB for Reece. And to do that, he had to tell them why.
TWENTY - THREE
“The life of the Amish is summed up with the Amish Sunshine and Shadows Quilt. They are taught to accept whatever comes from God’s hand—good or bad.”
—HANNAH SCHWARTZ,
IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts
The storm battered against the house while thunder boomed overhead. Hannah gazed out across the yard at the black clouds. The porch was little protection. The little girl surely shouldn’t be out in this. She wanted to help Matt, to comfort him in some way, but she understood that nothing could bring solace but finding his little girl. Even though she still believed she might have a daughter out there, she also believed the child was with a family that loved her. The picture had shown a happy, smiling child. Hannah had no sense that the girl was in danger, that someone might have taken her.
Matt was looking at her strangely. His gaze held a plea she wasn’t sure how to read. And the twist of his lips almost made her think he was defiant about something. “Is there anything I can do, Matt?” she asked when he just stared without saying anything.
“I have to show you something,” he said. His voice trembled. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Flipping through the photo sect
ion, he stopped and stared at a picture. He tugged it from its sleeve and handed it to Hannah.
“This is Caitlin?” Hannah asked as she took the picture.
“This is my daughter.” He put the emphasis on the word my.
Such a proud and loving father. Hannah glanced at the picture. And froze. The little girl smiling back at her with her arms around Ajax could have been herself at five. Auburn ringlets cascaded down Caitlin’s back, and her golden brown eyes smiled as much as her lips. Hannah’s gaze traced the familiar features, the happy smile as she looked with love at whoever was taking the picture. Probably her father.
“You’ve had her all along,” Hannah whispered. “All this time when I’ve been looking for her. You lied to me.”
It was all clear in an instant. All those times she’d asked him for help. All those times he’d listened to her fears about whether it might be true she had a daughter. He could have set her mind at ease so easily. All he would have had to say was that he had a child who looked like that. Why the lie? Unless he’d adopted her. But then he could have just said he adopted her. But maybe he didn’t know who the mother was. Her thoughts jumbled wildly, nothing making sense.
Matt’s voice was low. “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s torn me up inside. But we’ll have to talk about it later. For now, we have to pull together to find her. I think Reece took her.”
Hannah gasped and put her hand to her mouth. But why, if Caitlin was Matt’s own child? “But why would he take your child? Unless he thought he could convince me she was mine?” The thought of that precious little girl in Reece’s control made tiny beads of perspiration break out on her forehead.
He raked his hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to get into all this, but you have to be on board with me. We’ve got to get everyone looking for Reece.” Matt drew a deep breath. “I think he put her on my doorstep five years ago. My wife and I tried for years to have a baby, but we learned she could never conceive. One night we heard something at the door. Analise opened it and found a baby in a carrier.”