by Leanna Ellis
Slowly, he released the breath he’d been holding and focused on the noises outside the window. Come on, rooster! Where are you when I need you? But the rooster was silent.
Suddenly, the bed lurched, and Rachel bolted upright with a gasp on her lips.
“What is it?” His gaze jerked toward the window. Had she heard whispering? Was it the baby? “What’s wrong?”
Her hand clenched the sheet, and she was panting.
He jumped out of bed and grabbed his cell phone. It was the baby. It had to be the baby. “Okay. Stay calm.” But the cell phone was useless. “Don’t worry. I’ll get help.”
But how? Would he have to run to find an ambulance or hospital?
“Roc,” she gasped, breaking into his panicked thoughts. “It’s my leg.”
He blinked. “What?”
“My leg!” Her body contorted, pulling inward.
He rushed around the end of the bed to her side. Jerking back the covers, he ran his hands over her legs until he located the hard, knotted muscle in her calf. “Okay, just breathe.” He kneaded the muscles. “Breathe deeply.”
Slowly, after several minutes, the cramp loosened its grip, and Rachel relaxed. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you, Roc.” She pulled away, tucking her leg beneath her. Then she sat very still.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. We should go back to sleep, I reckon.”
Nodding, he stood and backed away. He reached back to rub his hands on his jeans, and suddenly realized he wore no jeans, not even trousers, or his towel. In the midst of the crisis of Rachel’s crying out, he’d forgotten he was undressed. At least she couldn’t see much in the darkness. He moved around the end of the bed, retreating back to his side, grabbed the towel off the floor, and wrapped it around his waist. Yet he hesitated before climbing into bed again.
“Roc?” Rachel’s voice came soft and timid, floating out toward him like a feather wafting, whisking to and fro.
“Yes?”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Silence answered him. Then he heard the bed squeak. He peered closer, leaning forward, and realized her shoulders were shaking.
“Rachel?” he ventured.
She didn’t answer, but he heard her sniff.
“Are you crying?”
Still no answer, but her silence was answer enough.
“What’s wrong? What did I do?” As he climbed into bed, edging closer to her, he saw her shaking her head, one hand cupped over her mouth. “What is it?” He reached behind her, his arm bending to accommodate the width of her shoulders, but hesitated. Yet when she made a snuffling sound, he pulled her toward him, sheltering her against his chest. Warm, wet tears spilled onto his bare skin. He smelled the soft, flowery scent of her hair, and he waited while she cried herself out. She finally gave muffled shudders as the last of the sobs wrenched free.
“I…I’m sorry.” She pulled away, but he kept her close, his hand cupped around her shoulder.
Smoothing a hand along her silky, thick hair, he whispered, “It’s all right.” She remained pressed warmly against him for a couple more minutes before he asked, “Can you tell me about it?”
“It must be the baby.” She sniffed and straightened her spine. “I’m more weepy now than ever before.”
Hormonal surges, Emma had called the episodes she’d had occasionally. But she hadn’t been expecting. And she hadn’t lost her husband, either. “It’s understandable. Don’t worry about it.”
Her shoulders shook again; then she held a hand out. “I’m sorry. Again. Really.”
“Rachel,” he said, “it’s all right. Trust me—”
“But it’s not all right. Is it? I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“What?”
“Living here. With you. This way.” Her voice cracked. “In the Fishers’ home!”
He turned her, bracketing her shoulders with his hands, and brought their faces close together. “Rachel, we’re doing this to protect the Fishers, not to hurt or harm them. That’s what you should remember.”
She sniffed again, nodded.
“Do you want me to leave?”
She shook her head.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Okay, then.” He lay down, adjusting the pillow beneath his head so he couldn’t feel the Glock beneath it. “Let’s go to sleep, Rachel.”
It took her a minute before she finally settled back down beside him.
He focused on each breath, drawing it in, holding it a few seconds longer, then releasing it slowly. When he finally fell mind-first into the black oblivion of sleep, he expected to dream about Emma, about losing himself inside her once again, and hopefully finding himself before it was too late.
He did dream of Emma, but in the dream her body was rounder, fuller, and moved against him. His hands roamed over the soft curves and sifted through long, silky hair. He tasted the sweetness of supple lips.
She called to him—“Roc. Roc!”
Her hand touched his chest, his stomach. Her touch sent him over the edge of reason and understanding and smack into pure instinct. He groped in the dark, palming a full breast, pulling a warm, shapely body against him, and tasting a soft, ripe mouth.
At first she was hesitant or reluctant, but then her lips became pliable, melting beneath him and then burning and devouring with her own desire. He couldn’t get enough of her sweet taste. He wallowed in the sensations swirling around him, setting him on fire. He tugged and pulled at the barrier between his flesh and hers.
But then something thumped against his abdomen. Reality blasted away any illusions or distortions. His mind shrieked not to stop, but he became aware of his surroundings: sheets smelling of fresh-mown grass, the squeak of the antique bed’s springs, the wooden headboard his hand fisted. And he opened his eyes.
Below him, blue eyes blinked in a soft, languid way. It wasn’t Emma. It was Rachel.
Her mouth had a dewy, just-been-kissed look. His arms trembled as he braced his weight against the mattress. A shockwave of revelation rocked through him. One glance downward, and he glimpsed a cloud of white material, the swell of baby, a raised knee. He rolled off her in one swift motion, scooped the still-damp towel off the floor, and wrapped it around his bare hips.
Gray light slipped around the edges of the shade. He raked a hand through his hair and moved straight for his clothes hung on the peg by the door. He looped back for the Glock under his pillow.
Her hand stopped him, clasping his forearm.
“Roc.”
It was then he realized he was breathing hard.
“You were dreaming.” She’d already covered herself and was sitting upright in bed now, her hair tousled about her in a reminder of what they’d been about to do.
“Rachel—” What could he say? How could he apologize? He couldn’t look at her. He’d promised her she’d be safe with him. “Look, I—”
“You were talking in your sleep.” She patted the bed. “Sit down. Let’s talk about this.”
He stepped away. “What’s there to talk about? It was wrong. I’m sorry.” He couldn’t tell her he’d been dreaming of her. “I thought you…I thought—It doesn’t matter.”
He stopped himself from saying anything else. It would only make it worse.
“I have bad dreams too.” She shifted, sitting on her feet, and leaned toward him. “You can tell me about it.”
“Go back to sleep, Rachel.”
She looked away then. “I dream of Josef sometimes.”
Her vulnerability pulled him back to her side. Carefully, he sat back on the edge of the bed. “Look, it’s not your fault, Rachel. You’re…we’re both lonely. And this was my f
ault. Not yours.”
“Roc—”
“Go back to sleep, Rachel. I won’t bother you again.”
“I blame myself.” Her voice cracked.
“For this? Really, it’s my fault. I’m f—” He stopped himself again.
“No”—she leaned back against the headboard—“for Josef.”
Even though the light was dim, he read fear, pain, and regret in those blue eyes. “For Josef’s death? Your fault? Why would you ever think that?”
“I sent him out that night. Otherwise he would have been home. Safe. And—”
Words sprang forward, but Roc held them back. Those words would only draw them closer together, and so he resisted. But her tears twisted his insides. Maybe if he confessed his regrets, his own sin, then she could release herself from her own guilt. “I blame myself for Emma. I couldn’t save her…and I should have.”
“You can’t save everyone, Roc. Even me. If it’s God’s will for me to die, then you can’t stop that.”
“God’s will? What does God’s will have to do with this…with any of this?”
“It has everything to do with it.”
“Then if it was God’s will that Josef died, why blame yourself?”
“Because…” She released a breath. “I can’t help it. I didn’t say it was logical. I simply said that’s how I feel. It’s not logical that you should blame yourself either for your wife’s death. But that’s how it is. We shouldn’t live by our feelings, though. We should temper our feelings with reality.” She was silent for a moment, her hands clasped in her lap at the base of her belly. “You called her name…in your sleep.”
It didn’t surprise him. Again, he didn’t know what to say, so he simply whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She touched his arm. “I am too.”
Silence pulsed between them for a long time. Rachel felt as if she just stripped in front of Roc and bared not only her body but her very soul, all the darkness, all the secrets. And yet there was still more he didn’t know, he couldn’t know.
She shivered, and he pulled the quilt up around her. She burrowed into the bedding as if she could cover her embarrassment as well as her sins.
“I dream about Emma,” he said, his voice deep and resonating through her. He had strong, powerful arms, and they had swept away her loneliness for a moment as she’d clung to him. She’d wanted that feeling to continue. “That she’s calling for me. That I’m racing to get to her. That she’s just out of reach.” His hand fisted as if he could hold onto his wife and their life together.
Rachel recognized that frustrating, painful feeling and couldn’t restrain herself from placing an arm around his shoulders.
He stiffened. “Rachel, don’t.”
She studied his square jaw highlighted and softened by thick dark hair as his beard was filling out, the straight nose, the hard, glinting eyes fringed with long dark lashes. His muscles rippled underneath his tanned skin, and she smoothed her hand over his rounded shoulder in a gentle caress. “What are you afraid of, Roc?”
“What you should be.”
“Everyone needs someone. I’m here for you. Just like you’re here for me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “This is acceptable in the Amish world?”
“There are things we cannot explain or defend or fight against. Like Akiva. These things don’t exist in the Amish world.” She slid a hand through the crook of his arm and clasped hands with him. “Come on.” She tugged on him. “Lie down and go to sleep, Roc. I’ll protect you from those dreams.”
“Rachel, I can’t.” He got up from the bed, put distance between them. “I would ruin you.”
How could he ruin her, she wondered, when she was already ruined. “Where are you going?”
“To the barn with the other animals.”
And he left her alone.
Chapter Forty-Eight
She reached out and touched warm skin.
In the darkness, his arms came around her and banished the bad dream. Levi was there, as he’d always been—solid, warm, safe. Only in the last six or seven months had Hannah come to understand he had always been there for her, waiting patiently.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice husky from sleep.
Hannah nodded against his shoulder and snuggled closer.
“Another bad dream?”
“The whispers. And someone was tugging at me, pulling me down, and I couldn’t breathe.”
His hand rubbed along her back. “You’re safe now. Meditate on this verse: ‘For He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.’”
“Will they ever go away?”
“In time.” His voice sounded solid. “I hope in time.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Careful to hold onto the railing, Rachel came down the narrow wooden stairs. She felt sluggish, her ankles thick, her body ungainly, her spirit heavy. After the noon meal, she had taken a short nap and now planned to help Sally with some ironing or baking.
Sally looked up as she set the metal iron on the stove burner. “Feeling better?”
“Ja. I’m not usually so lazy.”
“You’re not lazy at all. Just expecting. Babies zap us of strength, before birth and after. When I was carrying Samuel, I waddled around like a duck, and every chance, I stuck my feet in a chair. It helped the swelling. And with Jacob—” Her lips pressed together, and she blinked rapidly as she wiped her hands on her black apron. “I’ll brew you some tea.”
Rachel took the older woman’s advice and sat at the kitchen table, propping her feet on the bench where Roc and Samuel usually sat. She reached for a bowl of green beans and started snapping them.
“Jonas came back from the post office with the mail a few minutes ago.” Sally handed Rachel an envelope. “And brought you a letter.”
“For me?” Instantly, she recognized Hannah’s handwriting, and her heart jolted with joy. She wanted to rip into the envelope and devour her sister’s words, but she also sensed deep sorrow in Sally since she’d mentioned Jacob. The loss of a child, no matter the age or circumstances, left a jagged wound in a mother’s heart. So for a few more minutes, she conversed with Sally about weeding the garden and the fresh tomatoes she’d brought inside earlier. She raved about Sally’s ability to grow such fine vegetables. Finally, the other woman finished ironing the last shirt and headed outside to check the laundry.
With her heart racing, Rachel opened the letter and read as she sipped the lemon-balm tea.
Dear Rachel,
By now, you know the truth I tried to hide from you. It’s not that I wanted to be cruel, I simply wanted to protect you. I am sorry. I thought I was doing right. If I had told you the truth about Jacob and Akiva and how Josef died, then maybe you wouldn’t have gone with Akiva. Maybe then you would be safe at home now. I hope you can forgive me.
It has been very hot here of late. We are needing rain something awful. Mamm’s garden lettuce has wilted, but the green beans are doing well.
Katie misses you, as do I. She has been cooking for Mamm, as it gets very hot in the afternoons, and I will say I think her blackberry cobbler is even better than Mamm’s.
Sadie Detweiler is going to have another baby come spring. It looks like Amos Borntreger has finally won Rosalie’s heart. We will see, come fall, if the Waglers start growing celery for a wedding feast.
Mamm is worried about you and the baby. She frets every day about not being near when your time comes. I asked Levi if I could travel to Ohio and stay with his folks so I could be near you and help. Right now, he is not keen on the idea. But if you are wanting that, I will ask him again.
Love,
Your devoted sister, Hannah
Carefully, Rachel refolded the letter and slid it back into the envelope, her hands
trembling. The truth about how Josef died? What did Hannah mean? And why did she think she now knew? Did Roc know? Her heart pounded, and tears swelled up in her eyes. What had happened that night?
She became aware of the back door opening and closing.
“Everything all right with your family, I hope?” Sally asked, her arms full of sheets.
“Ja, the family is well.” Her throat tight with unshed tears, Rachel rose and helped Sally fold the laundry, wrapping up her own emotions and tying them up inside her heart.
Chapter Fifty
Roc turned off the whirring sander, and the quiet in the workshop startled him. Usually, hammering or the churning of the power saw kept the noise level high, but now in the sudden stillness, his ears thrummed. He’d learned the tools were powered by hydraulics through diesel generators. If there was a rule, he mused, there was always a way around it.
Roc was alone with skeletons of rockers, minicaskets, otherwise known as cedar chests, and a neighborhood of birdhouses for a retirement village of birds tired of the commute every year. At this time of the afternoon, he figured Jonas and Samuel had gone off to the barn to feed the horses.
He glanced out the back door, which looked out on the driveway used for the Fishers’ buggy. Samuel’s motorcycle was sitting in the shade of the barn on the back side of the building, not noticeable from the road. It was a ploy Fisher used, hoping his neighbors and fellow Amish would believe all was well and normal and plain at their home. But it was a façade, because there was something else abnormal about this family.
Roc suspected Jonas had run from Pennsylvania in his effort to forget the truth about his son Jacob. But he could run only for so long, because his troubles had followed him.