Her blue eyes opened wide, and she tucked one side of her blond hair behind her ear as she rose. “Okay, if you say so.”
“We can talk about this more next week if we need to.” He picked up the receiver and punched the speed dial for Hannah’s cell phone. “Amy, please close the door on your way out.”
Paul parked his car in front of a clapboard house with white columns, black shutters and trim, and a gray porch and steps. It sat on a tiny plot of ground, flanked by dilapidated homes on both sides of the street. The large wooden sign with fancy black painted letters said this was a women’s clinic, with doctors on site Mondays and Wednesdays only. Even though today was Tuesday, an Open sign hung on the glass door.
Paul glanced at the cellophane-covered bouquet he’d bought at the local florist shop, lying on the passenger seat beside him. He knew he shouldn’t have bought these. Such a move was premature and undoubtedly out of place, but he couldn’t resist.
Climbing out of his car, he prayed that this place could lead him to Hannah.
As he opened the door, a bell jangled, making him cringe at the noise. A grandmotherly woman behind a desk to his right glanced up and smiled. “Can I help you?”
He eased up to her and held out his hand. “Paul Waddell.”
“I’m Sharon. Nice to meet you, Paul. What can we do for you?”
“I’m looking for a friend of mine.”
“Is she a patient?”
“I … I don’t think so. I believe she’s a friend of Dr. Lehman’s. Is he here?”
The woman chuckled. “Dr. Lehman is almost never here. He has a couple of doctors on staff and a slew of community-service volunteers. Maybe the friend you’re looking for is one of his volunteers. What’s her name?”
“Hannah Lapp.”
The woman slowly shook her head. “No. There’s no Hannah Lapp. He has a Hannah Lawson, who works really closely with him.”
Paul’s heart leaped. Would she use a different last name? Of course she would. Changing her last name was probably one of the first things she did.
“Is she here?” he asked, his voice trembling.
“She doesn’t work out of this office. She helps Dr. Lehman at the Amish birthing clinics and counsels at the rape crisis center.”
“That’s got to be her!”
The woman’s eyebrows shot up.
He took a breath, choosing to sound calmer. “Can you tell me where his clinics are?”
“Sure. But she’s on leave right now, taking care of her new family.” She shrugged. “I don’t know her, but I heard Dr. Lehman saying that the man has two children and that Hannah took some time off to help them get settled.”
Feeling a bit unsteady, Paul dropped into a chair.
Maybe the woman was mistaken. Or perhaps this wasn’t really his Hannah after all. “Do you have an address for her?”
Sharon hesitated. “I’m not sure I should …”
Paul pulled a business card out of his billfold. It wasn’t an ethical thing to do. If this got back to the board of the Better Path, he could be in serious trouble since the card could be misleading, but he gave it to her anyway. “Her father is trying to get in touch with her. He asked me to—”
She took the card and read it carefully. “I do remember overhearing Dr. Lehman tell his wife that Hannah had moved away from home rather abruptly and something about they’d tried to reach her family …” The woman spun her Rolodex to the Ls, then pulled out a card. “Let me jot this down for you.” As she wrote Hannah’s address, she asked, “Until she moved, she lived in Winding Creek. Her new place is just south of there. Do you need directions?”
“That would be very helpful. Thank you.”
Following the directions the woman had printed out for him, Paul drove toward the south side of Winding Creek. Within twenty minutes he pulled up on the street across from the home bearing the address Sharon had given him.
It was a nice two-story, slip-form stone house with stacked-stone columns. He even caught a glimpse of a cottage behind the house. Everything about the place spoke of a comfortable lifestyle. If this was where Hannah lived, it was no wonder she hadn’t given up on surviving in the Englischers’ world and come home.
Leaving the flowers in his vehicle, he strode up the sidewalk. He rang the doorbell and waited. His mouth was so dry he wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak if someone did come to the door. When no one answered, he returned to his car.
Laughter and silliness rang out from the three of them as Martin pulled into the driveway. Lissa was sound asleep. He and Hannah got out of the car. Kevin unbuckled himself and jumped out. Hannah unfastened Lissa’s restraints and lifted the sleeping girl from her seat. When she stood, her eyes met Martin’s. In the silence, her eyes told him everything he wanted to hear. She was happy. While the kids had played in the sandbox at the park, he told Hannah what he’d realized about himself and why he’d come home during the middle of the day.
Lissa mumbled. “Where are we now?”
Martin smiled. “You’re home.” The words were simple enough, but they stirred him.
Hannah eased Lissa’s head onto her shoulder. “But you can stay sleeping.” Walking toward the house, Hannah whispered, “I’m going to lay her down. Keep the house quiet, okay?”
Martin nodded and opened the trunk of the car. He grabbed the Nerf football he’d bought earlier today. “Okay, go out for a long one.”
Kevin took off running.
Martin chortled. “Not that far. Come back.” They tossed the ball back and forth, and Martin tackled him a few times before Hannah bounded back out the door and into the yard.
He tossed her the football. Surprisingly she caught it.
“Tackle!” Martin yelled.
Kevin came running at full speed. Hannah put her hand in front of her. “Whoa, guys. Girl on the field.”
Martin took the ball from her, tossed it to Kevin, and wrapped his arms around her, facing her. “Yeah, I know. Cute one too.”
She pushed against him, but he didn’t let go. He glanced at Kevin, who was throwing the ball into the air and catching it.
Martin touched her soft face and gently guided it to his. He lowered his lips almost to hers, but she backed away.
“Hannah.” He gazed in her eyes and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, waiting.
When she relaxed, he eased his lips to meet hers and was again struck by the powerful physical and emotional reaction he had to her.
After an intense kiss, she put a bit of space between them. Her lips curved downward, and she shrugged. “Not bad.”
He laughed.
She snickered. “I love your sense of humor.”
“Good. Because I haven’t found anything about you I’m not in love with.”
“You lie.”
“Do not.” As he brushed loose curls away from her face, he resisted her push against him. “So how do I move past not bad?”
She pressed her palms against his chest, clearly ready for him to let her go. “I … I think you should throw the football with Kevin.”
“Uh-huh, and I think you should kiss me.”
Frowning, she stood on her tiptoes and barely touched her lips to his, as if that would be sufficient and he should go play with Kevin now. But in the instant after touching her mouth to his, something in her seemed to shift, and she ever so lightly kissed him again. Once, twice. Her hands no longer pushed against him but balled into fists that held his shirt as she barely skimmed her lips over his—four times, six times—before he received the tenderest, most powerful kiss of his life.
Martin took a step back and drew a deep breath, trying to pull his stare away from her. “Uh, you know, it’s really not necessary for us to wait any longer before we get married.”
“What kind of a proposal is that?”
He clasped his hand around her neck and looked into her eyes. “A desperate one.”
She laughed. “Good grief, Palmer. I feel like you’re trying to close a business deal.�
��
“It’ll be the best deal I ever made.” He took a few steps toward Kevin before turning back to Hannah. “I love you, phone girl.”
Knowing she needed time to process every new curve in life, he jogged to the middle of the yard and clapped his hands. “All right, buddy, put one here.”
Watching Hannah from inside his car, Paul sat speechless, his hopes shattered. The optimism that had kept him hopeful for the past two and a half years was destroyed. There was no reason to get out of his car and see her face to face. She had a new life: a gorgeous home, a husband, even a family. She worked closely with that Dr. Lehman.
Englischers. All of them.
Well, he hoped Mr. Lapp was pleased with the outcome of his strictness. If his goal was to keep Paul out of her life, he’d certainly accomplished that. Unable to stomach blaming someone else, he closed his eyes and tried to center himself. He was the one who’d walked away while she was begging him to listen. He was the one who didn’t return for her until days later. There was no one else to blame.
But somewhere beyond the growing ache he felt, he was grateful she seemed happy.
After all the years of praying for the best to happen for her, God had honored his requests.
And yet he felt betrayed.
He’d been so sure she would find wholeness and then return. Well, she had found it—without him. Pouring more salt in his wounds, no one in the happy family even noticed him sitting in a parked car across the street from their house. Suddenly unable to imagine what it would be like to look in her eyes knowing she was married, he started the engine. He had the information the Lapps needed to contact her, and he’d take it to Mr. Lapp himself, but it’d be best if Paul left here unannounced.
He put the vehicle in gear and drove away.
Matthew dipped up a bowl of his mother’s hot-fudge cake and slid a spoon in it. His brother had been having lunch with him when the shop’s phone rang out across the yards. David had taken off running since it was his day to field calls. Sometimes keeping up with the growing business was a hassle, but they managed. Now Matthew figured he at least owed David a bowl of dessert. He pulled a clean dishtowel out of a drawer and placed it over the bowl. He’d trained Kathryn to take orders and handle most of the office stuff, and she was good at it, but her sister had given birth, and she’d gone to help out for a few weeks.
His mother sank the lunch dishes into the sudsy water. “Keeping some of that separate so I can’t eat it all while you’re gone? Or you got someone else in mind?”
“The horses,” Matthew answered with a grin. “We’re low on hay, and I didn’t figure they could tell the difference.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you ate a bowlful of it yourself.” She looked up at him with those tender mom eyes.
He poked her with his elbow. “You’re a really good Mamm, you know that?”
She gave him his routine hug before he returned to work some hundred feet away. “You’re not such a bad son either.”
“Not bad? Me? I’m terrific. Yep, nothing like the rest of my family.” He tried to keep a straight face, but he grinned anyway.
She pointed to the bowl. “Take it and go, or you can stay and wear it.”
Chuckling, Matthew went out the front door and across the yard. He’d take this to David and then go back to working in the carriage shop, where he was attaching the underpinning of a buggy to its body. His Daed, along with six other men and two wives from the community, would soon be back from the carpentry they’d been doing in Maine. The women helped do the cooking and kept an eye on the men, so the wives back home never felt unsure of what their husbands were up to.
Although it was September, the summer’s heat had yet to break. He wondered if David had dared to run the three-inch, battery-operated fan he’d bought for him or if his whole face would be glowing with color and sweat. As an employee, he was nothing like he was as a brother. He was diligent and willing—even to leave the rest of his lunch to catch a phone. As much as it surprised him, he liked having David work with him. If his obstinate brother was this good, he wondered what Peter would be like when he graduated this year. If things continued as they were going, there’d be enough work to go around.
Gasoline fumes rode the humid breeze, stinging his nostrils. He lifted his head, sniffing the air. The dimness of his shop made David’s job of reading and filing all the paperwork harder. It had been built to hold in heat in winter and keep out the sun in summer. Unfortunately, that made a kerosene lamp necessary to read and file the receipts and orders.
But the odor he smelled now wasn’t kerosene. And the closer he drew to his old shop, the stronger the smell became.
A car pulled into the shop’s driveway, and its horn tooted.
Matthew paused, waiting for the car to come to a stop. The driver came into view.
Elle.
She got out, looking a lot different from the last time he’d seen her, a month ago. Her hair was pulled back, and her dress was every bit as modest as the caped ones the Amish women wore.
She had a rather guarded smile on her face. “Matthew.” She closed the car door. “Could we talk a minute?”
His first impulse was to say yes, but reservations mounted by the second. It had taken him too long to end things between them. He wasn’t interested in opening his heart to her again. The jagged scent of gas cut through his thoughts, and he decided to get this over with and check on the source.
Her eyes found his, and she smiled again. “You don’t have anything to say about the new attire?”
“It’s your life, Elle. However you choose to dress and act no longer matters to me.” He turned away from her, looking toward the motorized engine at the back of the shop as the possible cause of the fumes.
“You know, after the way you stood by Hannah through everything, I thought you’d stand by me.”
His body flushed with heat at the shadowy accusation, and he stepped closer. “I helped Hannah carry a load that should not be put on anybody, and I helped her follow through on her choice to leave. Seems to me I’ve done the same for you, Elle Leggett. If Hannah had been my girl and asked me to wait indefinitely while she whooped it up among the Englischers, I woulda refused. I’m tolerant, not stupid.”
“Matthew, we need to talk. I mean really talk. You’re too distracted around here. Let’s go for a ride and—”
“I … I need to check on something.” He strode toward the shop and had nearly reached the door when Elle caught his arm.
“I’ve come here in humility and honesty, and you walk off? Has everything about this business of yours changed the man I fell in love with?”
Her words about loving him cut through his resolve. The very thing he wanted to avoid had happened. Traces of who they’d once been stood before him; memories of kisses tempted him. Through the screen door he could see David sitting at the desk. He glanced up, his face frowning at Elle’s presence.
A breeze ran through the open windows of the shop and whisked through the screen door, filling the air with fumes. “David?” Matthew slung the door open. “Any idea where that—”
A flash of orange light exploded from the attic overhead. Something fell from the ceiling, knocking David out of the chair and to the floor. Burning fumes and smoke pushed Matthew down and scalded his lungs.
“David!” Struggling to keep his eyes open, he worked his way back to the door and into the smoke-filled room.
His eyes felt seared, as if they, too, were on fire. Staggering, he held his hands out in front of him to feel his way to the file cabinet. “David!” Heat surged around him. Through the murkiness of his vision, he could make out flashes of orange light.
“David!” Remembering what he’d always been told about smoke, he dropped to his knees. It was impossible to keep his eyes open. They burned too badly, and the stinging smoke made it worse. Grit from the floor buried itself in his palms as he crawled toward David. At least he hoped he was going in the right direction.
He felt p
apers and a piece of wood. “David!” he yelled over the sound of creaking timbers and lapping flames before the smoke choked him.
Outside the shop he heard Elle and his mother screaming. Luke was barking orders. “Stay back. The ceiling’s about to collapse.”
“Do something!” His mother’s voice pierced the crackle of fire. “Do something!”
“Matthew!” Elle called.
“Someone ride bareback to the Yoders and dial 911. Hurry! Jacob, find every hose you can and conn—”
“I’ve got a cell phone in my car,” Elle cried.
Matthew’s hand landed on a thick piece of coarse material. He grasped it and tugged. When it didn’t budge, he followed it, patting the floor in front of him as he went. His fingers landed on something soft, like flesh. Running his hands over the lump, he realized what it was. His lungs felt tighter than even a moment before.
David.
He tried to lift him, but he didn’t have the strength. Unsure which way the door was, he wished he could still hear the noises from outside. Grabbing David by the arms, Matthew shuddered. There seemed to be no life in his brother. Tugging on him, pulling him across the floor inch by inch, he felt his own strength draining. Blackness threatened him as he tried to backtrack out of the building.
A faint popping sound came from above. Specks of smoldering embers fell from the ceiling. A crack sounded. He moved to cover David’s face and torso. Something crashed to the floor a few feet from him. Pain seared his back as burning splinters landed on him. Matthew forced himself to hover over David, protecting him.
When the noise from the ceiling stopped, Matthew struggled to his knees, unable to catch more than a shallow breath.
Noises from outside became clear again. His mother continued to scream for David and him. He dragged his brother in the direction of her voice. Water from somewhere drenched his back and legs, making it even harder to tug on David.
Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy Page 62