Anathema

  “What’s significant about them?”

  Hannah thought a moment as her needle wove in and out of the colorful fabric. “A chevron is a badge or insignia. The Amish believe very much in following secular authority, in leading a law-abiding life. It’s very rare to find any lawbreakers among the Amish, and murder is practically unheard of. But the one thing they refuse to do is to serve in the military. In fact, that’s why the men don’t wear a mustache, only a beard. In earlier centuries only military men wore mustaches, and they associate mustaches with killing. They prize peace and want nothing to do with war.”

  “So they are conscientious objectors?”

  Hannah nodded. “My mother was the perfect example of a soft answer turning away wrath.” Though in Hannah’s case, those teachings were what had kept her under Reece’s fist too long. She focused on making her stitches even and small. She wouldn’t think about the sound of her mother’s laugh, or the way her mother’s auburn hair caught the sunlight. She wouldn’t remember the way Mamm’s tender hands, rough from hard work, would stroke Hannah’s hair at night before bed. The needle blurred in her vision, and she blinked hard.

  “Did she only work by hand?”

  “No, she had a treadle sewing machine that she used for the piecework. The actual quilting was done by hand. I’ll talk about that when I get to the chapter on the Carpenter Patch. We prize things made with hard work, but we use tried-and-true technology. Many use a treadle sewing machine for the piecework.”

  Asia frowned. “I’ve always heard quilts made by hand are more valuable.”

  “When sewing machines first became available, it was a status symbol to have one to use for quilting. Around 1900, during the Colonial Revival period, interest in hand quilting grew, a return to nostalgia. But Amish women are practical. Good quilts are about design and excellent fabrics. Mamm always chose her fabrics with care and paid top dollar for them.”

  Asia glanced around the bedroom. “Does your cousin have any I can see?”

  “They were all stolen the—the night of the murders.” She stopped. “You know, the quilt that was found over the bodies should still be some-where. It would have been released to the family once the evidence was collected from it. I’m going to look for it.”

  Asia sprang off the bed. “I’ll come with you.”

  She followed Hannah down the hall. “This is a big place.”

  “Four bedrooms up here and another one downstairs. This is another guest room.” The large room held a double bed, a dresser, a futon that could be made into another bed, and a crib. Even with all the furniture, it still had floor space to spare.

  “Why is there so much furniture in here?”

  “An entire family could stay here. We often have visitors who stay a few days.” Hannah glanced around the room. She hadn’t had time to go from room to room and see what changes Sarah had made. The quilt Hannah sought wasn’t on the bed. She opened the closet and pulled out a blanket chest.

  Seeing the cedar chest made by her father, she remembered that her mother’s keepsake box had always resided inside. She lifted the lid and inhaled the aroma of fragrant cedar. The chest held quilts and an assortment of baby clothes. She began to lift out the quilts one by one. They’d all been made by Sarah. She recognized her friend’s favorite Log Cabin pattern.

  “What are you doing?” Sarah stood in the doorway. Her brows were raised, and spots of red blotched her cheeks. Hannah refused to let Sarah intimidate her. “I’m looking for the quilt that was over my family when I found them. I wanted to look at it again. I’d never seen it before that night, and it was clearly made by my mother.” All of this belonged more to her than it did to anyone else. Even Luca didn’t have as much right to the personal effects as she did.

  Sarah bit her lip. “It’s in Naomi’s room. It’s a child’s quilt. I thought she would enjoy it.”

  “You gave your child a quilt that had been on her dead relatives?” Asia’s voice resounded with horror.

  “It was laundered, of course.”

  A practical response, but Hannah shuddered. They were taught to put others first and avoid conflict, but Hannah could tell Sarah didn’t like her snooping by the way she kept biting her lip and clutching her hands together.

  “Which room is Naomi’s?” Hannah moved toward the door.

  Sarah stepped out of the way. “Just across the hall. Please don’t wake her.”

  Hannah reached the other door in five steps and peered inside. She caught her breath at the sight of the quilt on a rack at the end of the bed. The hall light shone on it. Her memory hadn’t done it justice. It almost seemed as though the red hummingbirds in the pattern stitching hovered over the black background. It seemed three-dimensional.

  Seeing the quilt was like catching a glimpse of her mother. She found herself on her knees by the quilt rack. Pulling the quilt to her face, she inhaled, but there was nothing left of her mother’s essence, only the scent of fresh air from hanging on the line. When she got up, she realized her cheeks were wet.

  So were Sarah’s. The two women appraised each other. In Sarah’s eyes, Hannah saw her own helpless yearning for a time that would never come again. A regret for years lost and never regained. A knowledge that there was nothing either of them could do about it.

  Sarah averted her eyes and went to the rack. She lifted the quilt, folded it with steady precision, and placed it in Hannah’s hands. “This should be yours.”

  Hannah’s upbringing caused her to open her mouth to give it back, but she realized Sarah was right. It did belong with her. She was the only child left of Patricia and Abe Schwartz. Even Luca’s children weren’t their grandchildren.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She resisted the urge to bury her face in the quilt again. “What about Mamm’s keepsake box?”

  Fear returned to Sarah’s eyes. “What does it look like?”

  “A box about so big.” She measured a space with her hands about a foot wide. “It’s inlaid wood with a hummingbird design. Her grandfather made it. Have you seen it? It was always in the blanket chest.”

  “Where did you see it last?”

  Hannah could see that the ping-pong of questions was designed to avoid a direct reply to the pointed query. “You have to have seen it, Sarah. I know it was here.”

  Sarah dropped her gaze. “Yes,” she answered. “It’s in our bedroom.” She turned and left the room.

  Hannah exchanged a quick glance with Asia, then followed Sarah. She dropped the quilt off in her bedroom, laying it reverently on the bed, then went downstairs, where she found Sarah in the master bedroom rooting through a shelf in the back of the closet. This was the first time since returning to Parke County that Hannah had been in her parents’ bedroom. The same bed with a plain headboard was shoved against the far wall.

  “Here it is.” Sarah emerged from the closet with her kapp askew. She held the box out toward Hannah.

  Hannah reached for it, her fingers grazing Sarah’s. The contact made her glance in her friend’s face. Sarah looked ashen. Hannah didn’t understand what could be so upsetting about the box. “Thanks,” she said.

  “I must get ready for bed.” Sarah bolted for the door.

  Hannah carried the keepsake box back upstairs to her room. She couldn’t think here with the reminders of her parents all around. Asia was already working on her lists again. She barely looked up when Hannah sat on the bed and raised the lid to the box. A faint melody tinkled out.

  Asia tipped her head to one side and listened. “What’s that song?”

  “‘Land der Berge, Land am Strome.’ It means ‘land of the mountains, land on the river.’ It’s the Swiss national anthem.”

  “It’s beautiful. So is the box.”

  Hannah stroked the patina of the lid. “It’s from Switzerland. My grandfather made it for her when she was a child.”

  The contents were from another life. Hannah had always loved going through it and having her mother explain everything. There were thea
ter tickets to Hair and tickets to a Beatles concert.

  Asia picked up the Beatles tickets and stared at them, then glanced at Hannah. “What gives?”

  “She was a hippie until she met my father.”

  “Wow, talk about culture shock. Free love and all that, and then going into the Amish culture.”

  “I think she relished it. And she ’d lived on a commune for three years with no electricity or running water. The structure helped give her meaning, she said.”

  “Did everyone realize where she ’d come from?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t think so. She was so eager to fit in, to please Datt.”

  “Didn’t she ever miss her old life?”

  “If she did, she never said so.” Hannah sifted through the contents. Letters that she’d never been allowed to read, a tennis bracelet, a Seiko watch, several earrings, and a class ring. She frowned. “I don’t see her ring in here.”

  “What ring?”

  “Her mother’s engagement ring. She told me it was worth a fortune. She had it tucked away here and never got to wear it. She slipped it on sometimes when we were alone, just to connect with her mother, I think. But she never let me wear it. She didn’t want me to yearn for things that had no lasting value.”

  Hannah lifted everything out of the box and went through each item, carefully shaking out the letters. The ring was gone.

  “When did you see it last?”

  “About two weeks before she died. It’s got to be here.”

  Could Sarah have taken it? But why? She would have no use for it. She ’d never be able to wear it. And Luca wouldn’t allow her to sell it. Could one of the girls have gotten in here and taken it out to play with it? It seemed unlikely. Amish children were taught respect from a very early age.

  “I’ll have to ask Sarah about it.” Her gut clenched at the thought. Sarah might think she was accusing her of theft.

  She put all of the items back in the box, though she lingered over the letters. She ’d wanted to read them for as long as she could remember. “When you’re older,” her mother had always said. The youth quilt caught her attention. She unfolded it and spread it out on the bed.

  “That’s gorgeous,” Asia said, getting up to take a closer look. “It looks like the birds are about to fly off the fabric. It’s a solid black with just stitching as the only other color. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “All Mamm’s quilts are unique. It’s the way she uses color. And look at her tiny stitches. I’ve never been able to match their perfection.”

  Asia leaned over to examine the quilt. “Oh, it’s beautiful. Where did she learn?”

  “My dad’s mother. Großmutter took her under her wing, and Mamm was so patient to learn it all. She used to paint before she married Datt. Afterward, she poured all her artistic ability into her quilts.”

  “I wish we had more of her quilts to feature in your book.”

  “Me too.”

  Asia went back to her chair. “Is there another one around here? Maybe some of her customers still have them?”

  “Oh, of course! We could get some of those. I wasn’t thinking. I’d rather feature my mother’s quilts if I can find them. She had a magnificent Mariner’s Compass one. I think she sold it to the woman who owns the fabric store. We ’ll check there tomorrow.”

  Hannah couldn’t wait to hold it. Maybe the woman would sell it to her.

  eighteen

  “The Double Nine Patch Quilt is one of the most traditional quilts,

  which is fitting when you remember that the traditions handed down

  through generations are supremely important to the Amish.”

  —HANNAH SCHWARTZ,

  IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts

  Hannah’s cell phone rang after Asia had gone to sleep. She flipped it open and whispered, “Hang on,” before tiptoeing out into the hall. She slipped into the bathroom and shut the door. “Hello,” she said. She ’d been half-asleep and hadn’t checked the caller ID.

  “Hi, hon,” Reece said. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  Hannah cleared her throat. “It’s after midnight, Reece. Of course you woke me.”

  “I was thinking about you. Come meet me at the road. We could go for a cup of coffee.”

  “No. Leave me alone. Our marriage is over.”

  “Don’t say that, hon. I don’t want anything . . . bad to happen to you. We have to get back together.”

  Hannah licked her dry lips. “Are you threatening me, Reece?”

  “Of course not. It’s just that bad things might happen if I’m not around to protect you.”

  “Bad things happen when I’m with you. No one has hit me in five years.”

  His voice vibrated with anger. “I told you, that’s in the past. I won’t touch you. I’ve changed. I’ve converted.”

  “You’re driving,” she pointed out.

  “It’s just temporary. The bishop told me to sell everything. Until I get it sold, I’m driving it.”

  Hannah barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “What’s Demut mean?”

  “Humility,” he said promptly.

  Score one for him. “How does that work out in life?” Could he be telling the truth? Some of the districts weren’t as restrictive as others.

  “Accepting God’s will. And God doesn’t want us to be apart, Hannah.”

  “God doesn’t want you to beat me either. Or to kill our daughter. You pushed me down the steps, Reece.”

  “You’re wrong, hon. I was trying to catch you. I would never hurt you.”

  “You broke my nose, my arm. Why would I believe you now?” Was she remembering that night all wrong? But even if she was, he ’d been liberal with his fists at other times. The loss of the baby was the final, tragic straw.

  “I’m warning you, Hannah. You’d better come back home. Where it’s safe.”

  Hannah flipped her phone shut and turned it off without replying to his insistent demand. The hidden threat in his words made goose bumps break out on her skin. She rubbed the raised flesh on her arm. He wasn’t going to intimidate her.

  MATT DIDN’T WANT to be here. It had been late when he arrived, but even his fatigue didn’t help him fall asleep. The lack of outside lighting deepened the shadows in the room. This was a bad idea. He tossed on the sofa. At least the hiss of the gaslights had been silenced. He ’d had no idea a lamp like that was so loud.

  Now the house echoed with silence. If there were a TV in the place, he’d turn it on and spend an hour of mindlessness. He forced himself to close his eyes and then began to drift. He dreamed of Analise. She was smiling as she ran through a field of flowers. He wanted to warn her not to smell them, but he couldn’t speak.

  He came awake at the sound of a creak as loud as a shotgun in the dark. Matt thrashed out of the tangle of sheets and leaped to his feet. He listened for the sound to come again. There it was. He rubbed his eyes, and for a second, he thought he might still be dreaming. Then the sound came a third time.

  It was the creak of the door in the kitchen. He hadn’t heard anyone come down from upstairs. An intruder was in the house. He moved noise-lessly across the room. There was no moon tonight, so not even moonlight illuminated the kitchen as he peered through the doorway. He thought he saw a dark figure pass in front of him.

  He leaped forward, and his hand touched fabric. There was someone here. He wrestled with the figure, neither of them saying a word, until they were both on the kitchen floor. He pinned the intruder to the linoleum.

  Only then did he realize he wasn’t grappling with a man but rather with the softness of a woman. Grabbing her wrists, he pinned them to the floor above her head.

  “Get. Off. Me.” Hannah’s voice vibrated with anger. “Are you crazy?”

  He let go as if the heat of her wrists seared his skin. Scrambling back, he helped her to her feet. “What are you doing prowling around in the dark?”

  “I didn’t have a flashlight, and I couldn’t sleep
. I thought I’d have some milk.”

  He reached over and fumbled to turn on the gaslight. The soft hiss came with the glow. “You could have turned on the light.”

  “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  She stood in her bare feet. The peach cotton nightgown she wore covered her from her neck to her ankles, but with her hair hanging down her back and her eyes smudged with sleep, he ’d never seen a more beautiful sight. He didn’t like the way he was noticing things about her—like the way her hair glowed in the light and the way her mouth was shaped. For a second he let himself imagine kissing those full lips.

  What was he thinking? He was smarter than to let physical attraction blind him. Besides, she ’d never filed for divorce. Anger with himself made his voice gruff. “Oh yeah, I’m sleeping now.”

  She turned her head away, but not before he caught the glimmer of tears. What a jerk he was. He touched her arm. “What’s wrong?”

  She pulled away, then brushed past him to open the gas refrigerator. “Want some?”

  “Sure.”

  Taking out a jug of milk, she shook it, then poured two glassfuls. She handed one to him before sitting at the table.

  “Why’d you shake it?”

  “It’s not processed. It’s the real thing, so you have to mix the cream back into the milk.”

  He slid out a chair beside her and took a cautious sip of the milk, finding it creamy and good. Good to focus on something other than watching her bring the rim of the glass to her mouth. She set the glass on the table and licked the cream from her lips. He watched in fascination. “So what’s wrong?”

  Her sigh was soft. “Everything is so confusing. I don’t know what to do, where to go for help. Reece called me a few minutes ago. He swears he ’s joined an Amish district.”

  “It’s true. Blake went up to Shipshewana to investigate. He talked to the bishop. He ’s been attending there for a month.”

  She rocked back in her chair, and her shoulders hunched as though she were protecting herself from a blow. “I can’t believe it.”

  “What did he want?”

  “What he always wants. For me to come back to him.”