Anathema

  He turned the page. Ah, here was what he was looking for. The baby shower. Seeing the photo of Analise holding Caitlin made him pause. She looked so happy. Two years of bliss as a complete family followed Caitlin’s arrival. “You big ham, you’re in this picture too,” he told Ajax. The dog woofed as though he understood. Most of their church family was there, standing in for the lack of grandparents. Analise ’s parents lived in Florida and rarely came to town.

  There was a picture of the quilt with Caitlin lying on it. Ajax sprawled beside her. The next page held a list of the gifts, but there were several holes regarding who gave what. At least half of the items were not attached to a name, and he remembered why. Analise had given the job of making this list to two little girls from church who wanted to be included. Their childish scrawl showed their age. They’d been about ten.

  If only he could remember. Maybe Gina would know. He’d ask her about it. He glanced at his watch and realized he ’d better get moving. His heart thumped against his ribs.

  AT THE COFFEE shop, he had trouble finding a place to park. For just a moment as he stepped onto the walk, he became that frightened eight-year-old boy. He shook off the sensation and strode with all the confidence he could muster to the door. The aroma of coffee and cinnamon rolls lingered in the air when he stepped inside.

  He made a quick perusal of the room. Two women sipped frappés at a table in the back. Too young to be his mother. A man and a woman old enough to be his grandparents were standing at the counter arguing over how many shots the man usually took in his latte. Two men occupied a table by the door, no help there.

  His stomach plunged. She wasn’t here. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was barely nine. Maybe she was just a little late. And maybe he was just a sap.

  He ordered a black coffee and took it and the newspaper to a table by the window at some distance from the other coffee drinkers. Opening the paper, he noticed his hands were shaking a little. For half an hour he sat pretending to read the paper and jerking to alert status anytime the bell on the door jingled. He checked in with Blake, then settled in to wait.

  At nine thirty he folded the paper and laid it on the table. He ’d wasted half an hour he could have spent with his daughter. As he stood, a woman stepped into the room. He appraised her appearance. About sixty, so the age might be close. Her hair looked dyed. Her height seemed about right.

  Ajax whined at his feet, and he put his hand on the dog’s head to calm him. Or maybe to calm himself. He wasn’t aware of standing. She looked around and caught his gaze. With an uncertain smile, she approached and looked up at him. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Seeing her nervousness gave him courage.

  “Are—are you Frannie Beitler?”

  “Yes. Are you Matt?”

  Her low, modulated voice struck him wrong. He’d remembered a higher pitch. But that was a long time ago. Age roughed up vocal cords. “Sit down. Can I get you some coffee?”

  “I’d love a mocha.” She fussed with her bag, opening and closing the latch.

  He ordered the coffee and stood watching her from the corner of his eye. Had her hair been so straight? He used to wrap her curls around his boyish fingers. But maybe she ’d had it straightened. The barista handed him the mocha, and he carried it back to their table.

  His head on his paws, Ajax lay watching her. Matt wished the dog could tell him his impression. Matt handed her the drink, then picked up his own coffee. The strong, hot liquid fortified him.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Through the Web site,” she said. “I was surprised to find you still looking.”

  “Why did you leave, Mom?” The words burst out of him. “You just walked out on us and never looked back.”

  She stared down at her hands, tightly clenched in her lap. “I wasn’t cut out for motherhood.”

  “Don’t give me that. You were a great mother until the day I came home and found you gone.” His voice vibrated with passion.

  “Let’s not talk about the past, Mattie.”

  She’d never called him Mattie. Not ever. He studied her face. The nose wasn’t right. His gaze dropped to her chin. He looked for the scar she ’d received from falling on ice when he was seven. Her chin was smooth. “You’re not my mother.”

  Her gaze shot up and collided with his. She grabbed her purse and started to rise, but he caught her wrist. “Let me go,” she said.

  “Why did you come here and try to impersonate my mother?”

  “I—I—please, you’re hurting my wrist.” She twisted to try to break free, but his grip was too tight.

  “I’m a detective. You didn’t contact me through the Web site. You used my personal e-mail at the sheriff ’s department. I’m going to arrest you unless you tell me why you did this.” He got no joy from the terror in her face, but she’d come here with an agenda, and he meant to find out what it was.

  “He—he paid me.”

  “Who paid you?”

  “The guy. Older than you. Going a little bald. We started talking at a bar in Broad Ripple. He said he wanted to help a friend and he’d pay good money for it. It seemed harmless enough. Make you think your mom wanted to see you so you weren’t so obsessed with finding her.”

  Harmless. The disappointment devouring him was anything but harmless. She obviously had no idea what it was like to long for someone the way he longed to find his mother. “Was his name Reece?”

  “He never told me his name.”

  It had to be Reece from the description. What kind of sick puppy would do this to him? He shook his head. The same kind who would beat a defenseless woman.

  He let go of her wrist. “Get out of here. Count yourself lucky that I don’t arrest you.”

  She scurried out the door without a backward glance while he sat back down and wondered what Reece ’s motive had been. If he just wanted to inflict pain, he’d managed that. The region around his heart still ached. But what if Reece had something bigger in mind? Was he trying to divert Matt’s attention from the murders? If that was his goal, he ’d only made Matt more determined to find evidence that implicated him.

  He needed Caitlin’s arms around his neck. He drove out to the covered bridge and across it to Blake and Gina’s house. As his SUV rolled up the driveway, he watched for the sight of Caitlin’s bright head.

  There she was. Pigtails flying, she came bounding down the steps with her smile brighter than the sun overhead. She was small for her age of five, but the doctor had said not to worry. He pushed the guilt away. Caitlin belonged to him, not Hannah.

  He flung open his door and opened his arms. Caitlin leaped into them and wrapped herself around him like a monkey. She smelled of soap and Cheerios. He buried his face in her neck and nuzzled it until she giggled.

  Ajax was about to have a seizure in the backseat. Matt opened the door, and the dog leaped out. Jumping against Matt’s hip, Ajax licked every part of Caitlin he could reach. She laughed and rubbed his ears. Matt put her down so she could say hello to the dog properly.

  “I’ve missed you, Red,” he said, touching her bright hair. He couldn’t lose her.

  “My hair’s not red, Daddy.” She looked up at him as she rubbed Ajax’s ears. “It’s titian.”

  “And where did you learn that word?” Every day was an adventure with her. He couldn’t miss out on watching her grow up. Hannah didn’t even know her. He took her hand and started toward the house.

  “My teacher called it that. Did you come to take me to preschool?”

  “Not today. How’s Aunt Gina this morning?”

  Caitlin’s face stilled, then the smile vanished. She put her hand over her mouth and whispered through her fingers. “She was crying. Uncle Blake yelled at her.”

  Matt curled his fingers into his palm. “It’s grown-up stuff. Nothing for you to worry about. Are you being good?”

  Caitlin nodded. “I help her. Yesterday I brought in all the eggs and made my bed.”

  “You’re a great help, I’m sure.
Stay,” he told the dog. He pushed open the screen door and entered the house. “Gina?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Matt patted his daughter on the bottom. “I need a new picture colored for me to put on my bulletin board. Will you do one for me?”

  Caitlin’s smile came out again. “Okay.” Her bare feet slapped along the wooden floor, then she disappeared into the living room.

  Matt turned the other direction, into the kitchen, where he found his sister seated at the table snapping green beans. She didn’t turn her face toward him, but he caught the glimmer of wetness on her cheeks. “Got any fresh coffee?”

  “In the pot.”

  He poured a cup of coffee and joined her at the table.

  “When is this going to end, Matt? Every time I think it’s over, I find out he’s still seeing her.”

  He could have wrung Blake’s neck. “He told you he was having an affair?”

  “Yes, he admitted it.” She swiped at her eyes. “I’m just tired of it. I’m going to go see this woman myself. I can’t handle any more lies.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as I’m not needed for Caitlin. I hate having her see me upset. When do you think her mother will be gone from town?”

  “I don’t know. She isn’t showing any signs of leaving yet. You could go one evening when I’m here with Caitlin.”

  “No, I’m being selfish. Your problem is worse than mine. Caitlin belongs to us, not some woman she’s never seen. This can wait a few more days.”

  She snapped another bean, and the sound was like the crack widening in Matt’s heart, a crevice that let the terror surge into this throat. He ’d do anything to keep his daughter. Anything.

  TWO DAYS LATER, a big truck parked in the driveway. The side read FOX & Friends. Hannah wanted to wring her hands. Why had she ever agreed to this? It went against everything she’d been taught and was a symptom of the pride she ’d allowed to creep into her life.

  “What’s going on?” Sarah peered out the window at the truck as men began unloading video equipment.

  “It—it’s a TV show that’s going to interview me.” Hannah wanted to cringe from the judgment in Sarah’s eyes when she explained. “I wrote a book that has sold really well, and I’ve become something of an expert about Amish quilts. A morning TV show wants to get some footage of me here.”

  Spots of color appeared on Sarah’s face. “We will stay inside, me and the girls.”

  “Of course.” Hannah bolted for the door to avoid her censure. Asia followed. Out on the porch, Hannah leaned against the railing until the crew called her. “I should have canceled this,” she said.

  “It will be over soon,” Asia soothed. She took out a notebook and went down to greet the hosts of the show.

  But it wasn’t over soon enough for Hannah. Two hours later, she ’d been photographed sitting in the buggy, leaning against the barn, standing by the laundry line, and smiling by the ham hanging in the smokehouse. Limp as the overalls flapping in the breeze on the line, she wanted nothing more than to forget the morning ever happened. The crew and hosts were wonderful, but she knew the interview had been wrong for her, for her family.

  Once the trucks and cars departed, Hannah wanted to get away. Asia drove her to town, where Hannah pointed out the coffee shop. Plenty of residents would be there. Asia parked the car and they headed inside.

  The aroma of coffee beans roasting burned Hannah’s throat as soon as she stepped in the door. She glanced around the room. None of the people sipping lattes and checking e-mail paid her the least attention.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Asia whispered. “Do you know any of them?”

  Hannah was about to say they were all strangers when a man looked up and their eyes locked. Panic fluttered into her throat, and she took an involuntary step back. Noah Whetstone rose from his chair and came toward her. He wasn’t smiling. She wanted to flee, to hide in the bushes outside the door where she didn’t have to see the betrayal come into his face again.

  She watched him approach. He wore a long beard, no mustache, and smooth cheeks, so he’d kept the faith. And he’d taken a wife, another woman, someone who deserved him. The beard was a symbol of his married status. His pants were a little dusty as though he ’d already worked awhile at the sawmill this morning. And he likely had. It was after ten.

  After what seemed an eternity, he reached her. “Hannah. I heard you were back in town, ja.”

  “You—you look well, Noah.” Hannah forced a smile, lifting her chin to look him in the eye. He didn’t have to know her perfect life had crumbled around her like a rotted board. There was no need to let him know she still carried the shame of how she’d treated him.

  “And you.” He cleared his throat. “There is room at the table next to mine, if you’d like to sit.” He glanced at Asia. “This is your friend?”

  “Oh yes. Asia, this is Noah Whetstone. A—a friend. Asia is my good friend and assistant.”

  His gaze held reproach, but he said nothing about their former relationship. “You want coffee? I will get it.”

  Asia plopped into the chair as though the air in the place hadn’t just thickened to the consistency of molasses. She said, “I’ll take a mocha.”

  “You probably shouldn’t do that, Noah. It might look as though we ’re sharing a meal.”

  He frowned, then shook his head. “You are still under the ban, ja? But no matter. I will get it. You can sit at the table next to mine and we can still talk though I honor the shunning.”

  “I’ll take an iced coffee, then.” Hannah sank onto the chair he ’d pointed out. Her hands were shaking. Noah had moved on too. It wasn’t as though she’d ruined his life. Still, it hurt to come face-to-face with her failures. She watched him take out his cell phone and place a call, then put it back. Maybe he was calling the bishop to come confront her.

  “You all right?” Asia asked. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

  “It was just a shock, seeing him.”

  “I gather he ’s more than a friend?”

  “We were engaged. I hurt him when I ran off with Reece.”

  Asia studied the young man standing in line. “You left him for Reece? He’s cute, especially if you could get him to shave off those whiskers.”

  “I like the beard,” Hannah said. She ’d grown up admiring her father’s.

  Noah came back holding two cups of coffee. He set one in front of each of the women, then took his own seat again.

  “Thanks.” Hannah took a sip of her coffee. “Who did you marry, Noah?” Hannah knew it would be someone she knew.

  “Katie Stoltz. She has been a gut wife.”

  Hannah was relieved he’d done so well for himself. “I always liked Katie.” Katie ’s dad owned the sawmill where Noah worked. “You’re still at the sawmill then?” She smiled and pointed to the dust on his jacket.

  “Ja. Katie ’s father retired a year ago.”

  “Children?”

  “Four.” His smile grew broader.

  “Wonderful!” She hoped her envy didn’t show.

  “What about you, Hannah? You are happy, ja? Children?”

  “I’m so sorry, Noah,” she burst out. “I hate what I did to you. I hope you can forgive me.”

  His warm eyes studied her. “I have a gut life, Hannah. You did me no lasting harm. I forgave you long ago.”

  And she knew he had. The Amish way wasn’t to wait to offer forgiveness until asked. It was freely extended regardless. She fingered the picture in the pocket of her skirt, then slowly drew it out and reached across the aisle to show it to him. “Do you recognize this child?” A line crouched between his eyes, and she could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he took the picture and gazed down at it.

  “Nein,” he said finally. “But she has the look of you. Who is she?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but since she looks like me, I thought . . . she might be related.”

  He studied her face, then nodde
d. “Your cousin Mary, she lives here in town. Might the child be hers?”

  Hannah’s memory went back to the day of Moe’s funeral. When Hannah had asked Mary about a husband or children, sadness had tugged at her mouth when she said she was single and childless. Could it be she ’d given one up for adoption? Mary and Hannah looked enough alike to be sisters. But how would Mary’s child have gotten the quilt?

  MATT SAW HANNAH sitting with Asia near an Amish guy as soon as he entered the coffee bar. What did he have to be jealous about? He ’d never even kissed her. But all the rationalization in the world didn’t make the hot squeeze in his gut go away. Especially when he caught the intent expression on her face.

  She was tucking that dratted picture back into her purse. His first lie had started him on a slippery slope to perdition. If he’d been honest the first time he saw the picture of Caitlin, what would have happened?

  The barista handed over his coffee. Hannah still hadn’t seen him, so he walked over to be introduced. As he approached, he recognized the man’s face under the straw hat as one of the guys who worked the counter at the lumberyard. Matt struggled to remember if he’d ever taken Caitlin in with him.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

  Hannah finally noticed he was on the planet. Her smile seemed strained, and he wondered if she’d felt anything when he’d held her. Maybe the attraction between them was all on his side. But he didn’t think he imagined her response.

  He slid into the seat beside her. Once he set his coffee on the table, he reached across to offer his hand to the guy. “Matt Beitler, sheriff ’s detective.”

  “Noah Whetstone. I’ve seen you in the lumberyard.”

  “Yeah, I put a deck on the house last year.”

  The conversation fizzled as Matt tried to think of what to say without mentioning his daughter. Before he could think of a safe topic, Noah rose. “I must get back to work. Say hello to your cousin, Hannah.” He nodded to Asia and Matt, picked up his coffee cup, and left.

  “I didn’t mean to run him off,” Matt said. Liar, liar. That was exactly what he ’d hoped for. He’d have liked to put a hedge around Hannah and keep every other guy at arm’s length. Maybe that was why Reece acted so possessive.