Where Shadows Meet

by Colleen Coble

  “I’d like to see Luca.”

  “He’s in the greenhouse.” Sarah chewed on her lip and didn’t meet Hannah’s gaze.

  “Thanks. I’ll be back. I’m going to have to stay here for a while.” Hannah didn’t wait for Sarah to answer. With the kitten leaping at her feet, she headed toward the greenhouse. She should have checked there first anyway, but she’d been reluctant to enter and see Luca in her father’s place.

  The fragrance hit her first. Floral scents from the roses by the door were punctuated with the undertones of earth and seasoned with the stink of fertilizer. The scent of childhood. As a kid, her job had been to deadhead the old blossoms. It seemed all her life she’d tended to things too late.

  “This is a little creepy,” Angie said from behind her. “It’s like you could turn around and get lost in here. Or find a dead body on the floor.”

  Hannah smiled at her friend’s fears. This was home to her. “Luca?” she called. She walked the rows and examined the plants. Strong and healthy, they’d thrived under his care.

  A head bobbed up by the tomatoes, and Luca turned to face her. He looked different. Older, more tired. Maybe it was just her imagination, but as she neared, she could swear she saw warmth toward her still lurking in his eyes. And at least he was looking at her instead of ignoring her as he’d done at the funeral.

  “Hannah.” His voice seemed a little thick. “You should not be here.” He glanced through the windows down the empty road.

  “I had to see you, Luca.” The Amish people were not overtly demonstrative, though their love for each other ran deep. Love that cared enough to confront, to correct. And to wound when necessary. “You look . . . good.”

  His gaze swept over her clothes, then back to her face. “Are you happy with this life you’ve chosen?”

  Happiness. Hannah wasn’t sure she knew what that was. “I’m . . . content,” she said. “I have a good job, good friends.” She pulled Angie from behind her. “This is my friend Angie.”

  Luca nodded to Angie. “It might have been better for you not to see our disagreement, miss.”

  “She’s missed you every day she’s been gone from here,” Angie said.

  He flushed at the reproof in her voice. “It was her own choice.”

  “We all make mistakes,” Angie said.

  But not everyone’s mistakes resulted in calamity. “Let’s not talk about the past,” Hannah said. It would do no good to argue with him. “I need to talk to you, Luca. Explain what’s been going on.”

  “I’m due back for lunch, but I’m afraid you can’t eat with us.” His voice broke.

  Pariah. Anathema. The words pierced her heart. “I need your help.”

  “Will you talk to the bishop?” he asked.

  “I’ve already talked to him. I can’t come back. I think you know that. But I want to stay here. Me, Angie, and a deputy. We’re all in danger, including your family. You know someone killed Moe and Aunt Nora. Whoever it is, he seems to be targeting our family. You or Sarah or your kids could be next. The sheriff can only spare one deputy. The detective in charge of the case thought we’d be better off together, and there’s not enough room for everyone where I was staying in town.”

  “We accept whatever the Lord gives from his hand,” Luca said. “If God sends us heartache, it was meant to be.”

  Though his coldness failed to move her, his fatalistic attitude caused her anger to flare. “The killer is evil. I won’t stand by and let evil have its way when we can prevent it.”

  “God’s will be done. But in this case, I don’t believe we are targeted. You’ve changed, Hannah. It is as I expected.”

  His thinly veiled contempt stung. “You have no idea where I’ve been or what I’ve endured. And you don’t need to know. But I won’t stand back and let you or your family be harmed. If I have to, I’ll sleep in the barn. But I’m not leaving.” She folded her arms over her chest.

  Luca stared back at her without expression. “I must talk to the bishop. I’m a deacon now. I have responsibilities.”

  A deacon. Hannah hadn’t heard. No wonder he held back. When those in the congregation strayed, he would be the first to gently persuade them to put away the thing that tempted them. He had to uphold the ban in public especially.

  She put her hand on his arm. “We are kin, Luca. It isn’t that easy to just toss me aside.”

  “You left us, Hannah.” His voice stayed calm and assured. “And we would welcome you back with open arms if you reconciled with your husband and he converted as well.” His intent gaze lingered on her face.

  Hannah studied his face, the smooth cheeks above the long beard, the brown eyes that used to see everything, the worn hat covering his Dutch boy haircut. Sarah was taking good care of him. A tiny tear on his coat had been expertly mended.

  In her sweep of his appearance, she almost missed the meaning of the way his Adam’s apple bobbed and the way he refused to look away from her gaze. He was trying to hide his emotions and doing a good job of it. If she didn’t know him so well, she might have even bought it.

  This was as hard for him as it was for her. He didn’t want to turn her away. It was only for love that he was trying to do the right thing. His words came back to haunt her. “We would welcome you back if you reconciled with your husband.” Reece said he’d converted. What if it was true?

  “I’m going to get my things and bring them in,” she said softly. “You know as well as I do that you can’t deny me sanctuary here in my own home. I still own half this house, don’t I?”

  Red crept into his cheeks. “Yes,” he admitted. “I always expected you to come back asking for money.”

  “I thought you knew me better than that.”

  “Reece . . .” He looked down at his black shoes. “You have more right to this property than I do.”

  “Reece never pushed me to get the house. He didn’t want me to have anything to do with you. This is one thing that’s not his fault but mine. I’ll stay out of your way. I will not leave you, Luca.”

  He sent her a pleading look from under his brows. “Please don’t endear the children to you.”

  Ignoring them would be the hardest thing, but she nodded. Her cousins were darling, and she longed to scoop them onto her lap and tell them stories. She and Angie went to the car and hauled their suitcases to the house. Luca followed.

  “I didn’t bring the cats yet,” she said. “I’ll get them later this afternoon.”

  “Cats?” Luca asked.

  “Four of them.” She flashed a smile up at him, but he looked away and said no more. “Where do you want us?”

  He held the door open for them. “Your old room is now a guest room. I will have Naomi move her toys over to Sharon’s room. Wait a moment.” He left them standing in the kitchen with their suitcases and disappeared into a hallway. Moments later the heavy tread of his feet went up the steps.

  Hannah heard Sarah’s voice murmuring, and she could sense the stress in it. Hannah believed that her presence would stop anything bad from happening. Maybe this belief was rooted in a misguided sense of her own control, but her instincts told her she had to be here.

  MATT UNDERSTOOD THAT his minutes with Caitlin were drops of water draining through a sieve. Maybe that was fatalistic, but with Hannah showing no signs of leaving soon, it was only a matter of time before the truth came out. Matt wanted to hold his daughter close, treasure every moment.

  Frogs bellowed from the creek, a song as mournful as Matt’s mood. He sat on the porch swing with Caitlin on his lap. Hannah wasn’t going anywhere until she’d exhausted every avenue. All she had to do was show that picture to one other person at the jail, and the jig was up. He should see a lawyer to find out what he could do to avert a tragedy. No way would he abandon his daughter the way his mother had abandoned him. The swing swayed under them, and the gentle movement lulled him.

  “Me and Aunt Gina went to visit Grandma Trudy today, and she never smiled at me. Why is she so grumpy, Daddy?
”

  Why indeed? He’d never figured it out himself. “She’s had a hard life.”

  “How come you don’t have a mommy and daddy? Trudy is your grandma, too, isn’t she? All the kids at preschool have two grandmas. I’ve only got one.”

  She’d asked the question before, but Matt had always managed to put her off. “My dad died just like your mommy. My mom went away, princess.”

  “Did your mom go away to heaven like my mommy?”

  “No, she just went away.” He didn’t tell her that he’d come home on his birthday to an empty house. He didn’t explain how he’d gone through the house calling her name. She didn’t need to know he’d fed himself and cried all night for three days until a neighbor called Child Protective Services. “I went to live with my grandma Trudy then.” Gina had been luckier. She’d been staying with their aunt over spring break.

  He tightened his grip around Caitlin. She would never feel abandoned while he had breath in his body.

  “Maybe she’ll come back. I’d like to meet her.” Caitlin’s voice grew softer, and her eyes closed. Rhythmic breathing followed.

  “I wish she’d come back too,” Matt muttered against his sleeping daughter’s hair. She didn’t often take a nap. He stood with her in his arms and carried her to bed. His sister was watching her afternoon soap opera. The TV flickered, but the sound was down so low he wondered how she could hear it. He tucked the covers around Caitlin and pressed a kiss against her hair before joining Gina in the living room.

  “Sit down, Matt,” she said. “You’re keeping something from me. Work is always intense, but you’ve never asked me to keep Caitlin before. You know I love her, but I want to know what’s going on.”

  The need to talk to someone, to confess, gripped him in a stranglehold. “Caitlin’s real mother is here in town looking for her.”

  “Looking for her? What do you mean?”

  He shook his head. “Her mother never gave up Caitlin. Someone stole the baby from her and gave her to us.” Almost too late, he caught back Reece’s name. “We didn’t get her in the usual way. Analise heard something at the door, and Ajax was going crazy barking. She opened the door and found a newborn baby girl in a carrier.”

  Gina pointed her finger at him. “You never told me all this. I only heard a baby had come through for you.”

  “We didn’t want Caitlin to hear about it someday and feel more abandoned than she would when she learned of her adoption. There’s something devastating about being tossed on someone’s porch. She was all swaddled up against the chill. And we found her immediately, just as the kidnapper thought we would.” One peek into her wrinkled little face had triggered love at first sight. He still remembered the way she opened her eyes and looked at him. He and Analise had been trying to have a baby for five years and were just starting to talk about adoption. It seemed Caitlin was a gift from heaven.

  With his position at the sheriff’s department, it had been easy to keep the circumstances quiet and to put the adoption through. They told friends and family a private adoption had been arranged and they’d gone to the hospital to get her. A quiet search was made for her parents, but no traces of them were ever found. A few months later, the adoption was final.

  And final was the word. He couldn’t give her up.

  “Have you spoken with the mother?”

  “I haven’t told her I have Caitlin, if that’s what you mean.”

  “You don’t want this woman to find her. Heck, I don’t want her to find her! I love Caitlin. There would be a huge custody battle.”

  “Exactly.” At least he had some support now.

  SEVENTEEN

  “The Chevron Quilt is an interesting pattern. And one that has special meaning when you look at the way the Amish won’t wear a uniform or serve in the military.”

  HANNAH SCHWARTZ, ON THE Today SHOW

  Hannah’s gaze kept returning to the center of the sitting room where she’d found the bodies of her family. No trace of the symbol marred the walls. The three hours she’d been here had dragged by, hung up on tragic memories haunting every corner and peering from every shadow.

  Tableware clanged against plates in the kitchen. Hannah could hear one of her cousins talking to Sarah in German. The guttural tones took her back to her own childhood. Seated on the sofa with a tray, she picked at the food on her plate.

  Angie tipped her head and listened. “How well do you still remember your German?” She’d insisted on joining Hannah for dinner.

  “I’m a little rusty. I found that out when I tried to talk to the children the last time we were here. Ours is a Swiss-German dialect that’s a little different from what the Englisch call Pennsylvania Dutch.”

  “Is Parke County the sect’s only home?”

  “No, but the majority of the Swiss Amish came to Indiana. Our group came later than those in Pennsylvania. We made our way to the state around 1840 directly from Switzerland. Most Amish people here in Parke County are from Pennsylvania and speak Pennsylvania Deutsch. Most of us here in Indiana who speak the Swiss dialect are up around Berne, but our district was a plant from there.”

  “Are the languages close enough to understand each other?”

  “It’s a little challenging.” Hannah smiled. “If I were to talk with a Pennsylvania Deutsch Amish woman, it would be easier to speak English. We don’t socialize much with the other group either.”

  Angie studied her face. “You keep saying we.”

  Hannah’s laugh felt strained. “I suppose I do. I hadn’t noticed. I’ll always be Amish at heart.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Our simple love of family, our neighbors. It’s ingrained in me, and I’ll always carry it with me. I might carry a cell phone and cut my hair, but inside I’m Amish.”

  Angie nodded. “I can see that. It’s one reason people are drawn to you.”

  Drawn to her? Hannah had never noticed. She scooped up a spoonful of her cold fruit soup—mashed strawberries, milk, and sugar over bread. She hadn’t had anything like it since she left the county, and she nearly smacked her lips over the fresh taste. Sarah was a good cook. The chicken potpie had pastry flaky enough to melt in her mouth, and the homemade root beer rivaled Mamm’s.

  “I had no idea there was so much diversity among the Amish. You should mention that in the book.”

  “Each district can be different too,” Hannah said. “But most people don’t realize there are such distinctions.” The noises intensified in the kitchen, and she knew they were finished with supper. She put her spoon down. “I think I’m done too.”

  “We should help with dishes.”

  “They won’t let me. But I can sit at the table while you help.” Hannah rose and went to the kitchen with her utensils. Ajax followed at her feet.

  Sarah glanced up quickly, then ducked her head so all Hannah could see was the top of her kapp. The tiny pleats in the prayer bonnet had required hours of ironing. Hannah put her dishes onto the stack by the sink, then retreated to sit at the table. She folded her hands in her lap.

  “Can I help you with the dishes?” Angie asked.

  “No, thank you. The children will help.”

  Angie raised her brows and glanced back at Hannah, then joined her at the table. Sarah moved a small step stool close to the sink, and Sharon crawled up to wait for her mother. Sarah took the kettle from the woodstove and poured hot water into the sink. Naomi took a dish towel from the drawer and stood on tiptoes to grab the wet dishes as they were ready to be dried.

  “Amazing,” Angie muttered, her gaze on the children. “Most kids do everything they can to get out of chores.”

  The girls’ willingness seemed so normal, so right, to Hannah. “We are taught from a young age that work is blessed. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop. We enjoy spending time with one another too. The girls want to be like their mamm, and the boys like their datt. They’re eager to begin to learn the chores and to help out. My mother began to teach me to quilt when I was thr
ee.”

  “Do your children ever fight?” Angie asked Sarah.

  Sarah smiled and shook her head. “It is not allowed.”

  “Where’s Luca?” Hannah asked.

  Sarah’s smile faded. “Feeding the horses and chickens.”

  So far, Hannah had detected no trace of the camaraderie she and Sarah had shared as teenagers. Hannah mourned its loss. “When did you and Luca marry?” She kept her tone light and friendly.

  “About a year after you left. Nine years ago.”

  “Your oldest is only six?” It was unusual for so much time to pass before a child arrived.

  “I had a few . . . accidents.” Sarah seemed to force the words out.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “The Lord’s will be done.”

  “Of course. And your family is beautiful.”

  Sarah’s eyes finally softened. “Thank you.”

  “How are your parents, your brothers and sisters?”

  “They are well. Mamm is dealing with a bit of arthritis, but she has good spirits about it.” The smile that flickered across her lips disappeared. “You might spoil everything, Hannah. Don’t you care?”

  The words pierced Hannah to the bone. “I’ve always cared,” she said softly. “I can’t tell you how many times I picked up the phone to call Luca at work. I didn’t want to make things worse for him.”

  “Yet you’re here now, aren’t you?”

  Heat crept up Hannah’s neck. It hurt to be so unwanted. It used to be different. She fought to keep her voice from trembling. “I need to find the child.”

  Sarah turned from the sink and came to where Hannah sat. “Do you really think the child is yours? And what if she is, Hannah? Would you rip her from a family who loves her?”

  “I don’t know.” In spite of her resolve, her voice shook. “You know how important family is to me.”

  “Not anymore. You turned your back on your family. For lust.”

  “That’s harsh,” Angie put in. “You don’t know what Hannah’s been through.”