Anathema

  “I bet you were a beautiful little girl with such bright hair.”

  What if she went back to the Amish life? The thought hovered in her mind. The thought of being welcomed home made her eyes burn. For ten long years she’d moved like a tumbleweed blown from one town to the next, never staying very long, never believing she belonged. Always trying to stay one step ahead of Reece, yet knowing he would find her someday. She longed for the love of her community, the constancy of their love and commitment, their calm certainty about life.

  “Your wheels are turning. What are you thinking about?” Matt asked.

  “Going home.” He’d think she was crazy. Most of the world didn’t understand the peace of their faith, didn’t understand how putting the focus on God and others made life so much better, so much more meaningful.

  “Back to Milwaukee?”

  “No, home. My place with my family. Go back to my roots, my faith.”

  “I can see the draw. Your cousin’s family is wonderful. So much love and commitment. It’s compelling. But I couldn’t give up my computer, TV, my car.”

  “The car would be hard,” Hannah admitted.

  “I don’t get it anyway. They pay people to drive them, so it’s not like they think cars are evil.”

  “Cars can be a status symbol, and we believe in the common good and not putting one person above the other. And look at our modern world, how people run around with no time to sit and eat meals together as a family. Cars have been largely responsible for the splintering of the family. If an Amish man hires a car, it’s for a specific reason—often for a trip for his family or something equally important.”

  “If you say so. But I’m not giving up my SUV.” Matt’s grin was cheeky.

  “I’m probably not either. I’m just thinking out loud. Sometimes I wish I could go to sleep and wake up to find all that’s happened was only a dream.”

  “Don’t we all? Life isn’t like that. Good and bad are part of the human existence.”

  “You sound very philosophical.”

  Matt’s grin widened. “I actually think about life now and then.”

  Hannah’s cell phone rang. She grabbed her purse and looked at the caller ID and winced. Maggie Baker was her editor. The last thing she needed right now was more pressure, and she didn’t want to hear what Maggie might have to say. Whatever it was, it would likely entail more work. She called occasionally with a suggestion to include a certain chapter or to find out about this or that technique. Hannah didn’t want to deal with it, so she shut off her phone.

  Asia came flying out the door when they pulled up to the house. She was on her cell phone and mouthed, “Maggie,” at her. It had done no good not to answer the phone. Hannah knew she would hate whatever Maggie was saying. Why had she ever agreed to hire a publicist? She thought of Asia as a close friend, but at times like this, she wished she answered to no one but herself.

  “What’s wrong?” Matt asked.

  “It’s my editor.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “I’m not sure.” Hannah got out of the car.

  Asia hung up and shot her a panicked look. “Um, she wants your deadline moved and the book turned in two weeks from today.”

  “Two weeks! I hope you told her it was impossible.” Hannah saw the stubborn set of her friend’s mouth. “You did tell her, right, Asia?”

  Asia opened her mouth, then shut it again. She shook her head. “I couldn’t say no. It was too big.”

  “Oh, Asia, don’t tell me you agreed. There is no way. None.” Hannah stopped by the farmhouse and banged her forehead on the siding three times. “Just shoot me now.”

  “Don’t stress, Hannah—it will be worth it. She ’s got a major promotion planned, but the book has to be done in time to launch it for the event.”

  “I have to finish the quilt for pictures!”

  “Well, yeah, but you can work on it in the evenings. It won’t take as long as you think.”

  “No, it will take longer than you think. I’ve made enough quilts to know it always takes more time than you anticipate. I’ve got at least one hundred hours of work left on it.”

  “If you work three hours every night, that’s, uh, that’s . . .”

  “A month. Thirty days. And we’ve got two weeks.” Hannah rarely lost her temper, especially with people she loved, but she felt she was in a pressure cooker about to blow its top.

  “You can maybe work every morning and evening?” Asia’s tentative voice lost steam as she finally got what Hannah was saying.

  Staring at her friend’s pleading face, Hannah’s ire faded. “I’ll try, Asia. But we might not make it. What’s the big hurry anyway?”

  “There’s a big quilt show coming up in New York in six months. Maggie got the producer of Good Morning America to agree to have us on the show talking about the book. But we ’ve got to have it releasing that week.”

  Hannah was shaking her head before Asia finished talking. “I’m not going on TV again. This morning was too hard. You can handle that, my friend.”

  “They’ll want you to talk about the quilts. You’re the expert, not me.”

  “I’m not doing it. I’m sick of publicity.”

  “Oh, we’ll worry about it when the time comes. Right now we’ve got to get the quilt and the book done.”

  “Irene says we can have a photographer come over and take pictures of her quilts too. I saw them—they’re gorgeous.”

  “Wonderful! Thanks for asking her.”

  Hannah nodded. Maybe it was just as well. Filling her time would keep her from obsessing over the little girl. She couldn’t help sneaking one last glimpse of the child’s face in the photo in her hand. Her child. She was beginning to believe it. She tucked the picture back into her bag.

  She looked around for Matt and saw him pushing Naomi and Sharon on the swing under a cloudy sky, though the rain had stopped for now. Watching him with the children, she knew his daughter was a lucky little girl. His entire attention was focused on the kids.

  Up near the house, she saw a buggy in the drive. Luca and Sarah must have company. She hoped it was no one she knew. All she wanted to do was rush to her room and have a good cry. Now she’d have to paste on a smile, at least for a few minutes. She stopped in the yard and turned toward the barn. Maybe she could hide out there for a little while.

  “Where are you going?” Asia asked.

  “I thought I’d—I’d check on my old horse.” Hannah bolted for the barn. She heard Asia call after her, but she didn’t stop. Shoving the barn door aside, she stepped into the cool darkness of the barn. The familiar scent of hay and horse enveloped her in a warm, safe embrace.

  Lucy nickered, and Hannah ran to her. She should have come to see the animal sooner. How amazing that Lucy remembered her. She stroked the old appaloosa’s soft nose. Lucy had to be twenty by now but was still working.

  As a child, Hannah had spent many hours in the hayloft with a book and a secret radio. This was her place, her refuge. She eyed the ladder to the haymow, then gave Lucy one last pat and went to stand at the base of the ladder. Looking up, she realized the top wasn’t as high as she remembered. Hannah put her foot on the first rung, then went hand over hand up to the haymow. Stacks of hay bales filled the loft. She balanced across the tops of the bales to the back corner. Once upon a time, she ’d had a little nest back here, a cocoon she’d carved for herself from bales of hay.

  It was probably long gone, but she couldn’t help shoving aside a few bales just to see. She wiggled back to where she ’d made the opening to her small space. There it was! Hannah couldn’t believe it. The rough hay tore at her hair and clothes as she dove into the “house” she ’d built over twenty years ago.

  The space seemed smaller, but she was an adult now and time changed her perception. The area measured about six by six and five feet high. She crawled in on her hands and knees and peered out the window into the yard. Datt had put the window in just for her when she was ten. From this persp
ective, she could see the whole yard, the house, and the greenhouse area.

  Asia wasn’t in the yard anymore. She must have gone inside. Hannah could be alone and enjoy the solitude. Hugging her knees to her chest, she settled back against the hay. A smile tugged at her lips, and the tension eased from her neck and shoulders. She could forget her problems here.

  Until she heard someone calling her name. She wanted to clap her hands over her ears and refuse to respond. Then she recognized Matt’s voice. It sounded as if he was in the barn below her. She scrambled from her hidey-hole and moved over the uneven bales of hay to the ladder.

  “I’m up here,” she called. When he looked up and their eyes met, an unseen bolt of energy connected them. An invisible umbilical cord tugged her toward him. The last time she’d experienced a connection like that, she’d run away from everything she knew and loved, ending up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs with her baby’s blood seeping out of her.

  twenty-one

  “The Amish prize objects that are made by hand, well-made items

  that will last for generations, just as their faith has lasted through the

  decades. That’s why I prize the Log Cabin Quilt so highly.”

  —HANNAH SCHWARTZ,

  IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts

  The sun illuminating Hannah’s hair through the windows of the barn made it look like a coil of copper. She had it up again, and if Matt were bold enough, he’d grab the pins and shake it loose just to see it in the sunshine. She ’d probably slap him for his trouble. Just for a moment when their eyes had locked, he could have sworn he saw something in her eyes. Awareness, need, something. It was gone too quickly to name it as more than interest.

  She swayed as though she was dizzy. “You okay?” he called up to her.

  “I’m fine.” Her hand swiped straw off her cheek. “Stand away from the ladder and I’ll come down. I have a skirt on.”

  He should be so lucky as to see her legs. He walked over to lean against the door frame, but he had to resist the temptation to peek. She brushed the hay from her clothes, but the yellow stuff sticking from her hair stayed untouched. She probably had no idea how pretty she looked with the hay in her hair and a flush on her cheeks. He was mightily attracted against his own will and annoyed with himself enough to grit his teeth.

  “You can turn around now,” she said.

  She looked just as prim and proper as her voice. Except for the fact that the hay in her hair made her look as if she’d just tumbled in the haymow with someone. Before he could stop himself, his fingers were in her hair, and he was plucking out bits of hay. Thick and lustrous, her hair invited him to plunge his fingers in deeper.

  He dropped his hands before he could be tempted further. “You in here feeling sorry for yourself?”

  “Maybe.” She bit her lip as though she was sorry she ’d said anything.

  She swayed again as though she ’d like to lean against him. It was probably wishful thinking on his part. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

  “Not really. I’m just disappointed. I knew Reece loved to play mind games with me. But I thought maybe this time would be different. I’m no closer to finding out what happened to my daughter than I was when I came last week. Even here, I’m an outsider. I—I wanted so much for my daughter to be alive. I tried not to count on it.” She looked up at him as though he could make her wishes come true.

  He stilled—his blood, his breath, his entire being. He should tell her. He knew it was the right thing to do, just as if God had whispered it into his heart. He could imagine the joy breaking over her face, could see the shine in her eyes. But once she realized the full story, he ’d lose his daughter. He couldn’t give up Caitlin, wouldn’t give her up. The adoption wouldn’t be legal because Hannah had never signed away her rights. Any court would give Caitlin back.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything? Some platitude about it being God’s will that I’m alone? I’ve already got that, believe me. I know he’s rejected me.”

  He found his voice. “I’m not going to help you have a pity party. You’re young and healthy. You can have more children.”

  “I can’t.” She shoved him with the palms of her hands. “The trauma made it impossible.”

  “I’m sorry, Hannah.” Talk about heaping guilt on his head. He was in possession of the only child she ’d ever have. Something told him to trust God with the outcome, but putting such a dangerous thought into action proved too difficult. “God still loves you. Your grief is all that’s making you hold him at arm’s length. It wasn’t your fault. Evil will always be around. It had nothing to do with you.” Her eyes showed her pain. He cupped her cheek in his palm. “You’ll find the right guy, Hannah. Your marriage to Reece was over long ago, the night he threw you down the steps. Get him out of your life once and for all. You don’t have to be alone.”

  She rested her face against his hand in a trusting gesture. “No?” she whispered.

  He knew he was playing with fire, but his gaze went to her lips. She leaned forward ever so slightly, but the movement entranced him. This couldn’t be love. You didn’t fall in love with someone in two minutes. But he could imagine what it would be like to gather her close, to inhale the sweet scent of her, to taste her lips. He could see her in his house, could anticipate how exhilarating it would be to come home to her every day. She’d make a wonderful mother. Did he have the right to deny Caitlin such a wonderful mother?

  He pulled away and looked down into her face. Her long lashes fluttered against her flushed cheeks. The words “I love you” trembled on his tongue, but it couldn’t be true. He was reacting to the physical attraction between them. Besides, once words like that were spoken, there was no going back.

  A heavy veil fell between them, the weight of it palpable. The weight of the truth, the weight of deception. Dropping his hands from her shoulders, he stepped away.

  “I think I’ll get some coffee.” If he looked back at her face, he would lose his courage. He nearly ran for the door.

  A CHILL FILLED the vacuum around Hannah that was created by Matt’s departure. She wasn’t so naive she couldn’t recognize how her soul longed for him. He was drawn to her as well. If he hadn’t gone, she might have kissed him. In his arms, she ’d be wrapped in safety. Secure. His wife had been a lucky woman. She clasped her arms around herself. She had no right to even think like this. At least not until she was free of Reece.

  She sighed like a silly schoolgirl. Don’t think about him. He would drive her crazy. The thought of loving someone again scared her to death. But Matt was nothing like Reece. She had to remember most men would never hurt their wives the way he had hurt her.

  She shut the barn door behind her and headed for the house. The sun had begun to slip down the horizon. Three cats came running to meet her, and she stooped to pet them. “Where’s Spooky?” she asked them. Marmalade meowed as if to tell her all about it, and Hannah smiled. She called to the missing cat, but the black ball of energy didn’t appear. He was probably off chasing a chipmunk.

  Supper was nearly ready when she left the cats and went inside, but she knew better than to offer to help. Matt stood talking to Luca about fishing, and she let her gaze rest on him a moment. It didn’t matter if her expression reflected her feelings. He wasn’t paying attention.

  When she turned away, she found Asia watching her. The amusement in Asia’s eyes made Hannah’s cheeks burn. “I think I’ll run upstairs and wash up,” she muttered.

  “I’ll come with you.” Asia trotted after her. She caught up with Hannah at the top of the steps. “What’s going on with you and Matt?”

  “Nothing.” Hannah went to their room and began to search for a fresh blouse.

  Asia jerked a plain white blouse out of her hand. “Don’t wear that.” She began to rummage in the closet. “I’m not stupid. I can see how much you watch him, and he does the same to you.” She pulled out a taupe blouse that wrapped and had a V-neck. “Wear this.?
??

  “I can’t wear that.” Hannah frowned as she held it up.

  “It won’t show your boobs or anything. It will just flatter your shape and your coloring. Try it on. You want Matt to notice you, right? Aw, you’re blushing. You’re not used to going after the man you want, are you?”

  Hannah pressed her palms against her hot cheeks. “If he wants me, he can take me the way I am. Besides, I’m still tied to Reece.”

  “Legally, yes, but you’re never going back to an abuser. It doesn’t hurt to put a little chocolate on the fruit.” Asia jerked the blouse down over Hannah’s head. “Were you in the haymow with him?” She plucked a strand of hay from Hannah’s hair.

  “I was in the haymow, but not with Matt.”

  “Too bad.” Asia’s grin was sly.

  “You’re terrible.”

  “Just honest. Has he kissed you yet?”

  Hannah ducked her head and didn’t answer. She tugged on the blouse and tried to look down to see how it fit. At least it didn’t show any cleavage.

  “He has kissed you, hasn’t he? I bet he ’s a great kisser.”

  “No, he hasn’t! He ’s got more integrity than that. I’m still married.” Hannah laughed it off, but her cheeks and neck felt as if they would burn up any minute.

  “Okay, okay. Sit down on the stool a minute and let me do something with this mop of yours. You’ve got hay and chaff all through it.”

  Hannah sank onto the stool. In minutes, debris littered the floor around her. She reached up and touched her hair. “I should put it up.”

  “No, you should not. I didn’t cut it so you could wind it all up and hide it. You look terrific. Let’s go eat.”

  A model on display couldn’t be any more self-conscious. Hannah followed Asia down the stairs. “Smells like beef and noodles with brown butter,” she said.

  “It is.” Sarah didn’t look at her. “The table is ready for you and the children in the sitting room.”

  Matt had seen her. His gaze followed her, and she hoped he didn’t think she was trying to attract him. Oh, who was she kidding—of course he knew. The whole family had to know. The new outfit was as blatant as a neon sign flashing “LOOK.” She practically ran from the room.