by Alison Stone
* * *
“This isn’t exactly in my job description.” Spencer turned the last screw into the plate of the dead bolt on Hannah’s front door. Locks had been installed on all the doors, including her mother’s.
“Thank you.” Hannah handed him a cold glass of lemonade.
Hannah sat on the rocker on the porch and gently rocked back and forth, pushing off the floor with her bare foot. A chip of pink nail polish clung to her big toenail.
“It’s peaceful out here.” Spencer placed the screwdriver into the toolbox and snapped the box shut. He crouched down and examined his work. Installing the locks had taken less time than he had anticipated.
“I suppose if I’m going to raise these girls, I need to expand my circle of friends. Make it a little less quiet for the girls. The neighbors came by with food after my sister died, but their visits stopped long before the last casserole was consumed.”
Spencer glanced around. “Are the girls still at your mother’s house?”
“She likes the company. She’s all alone with her thoughts.” Hannah looked off in the distance, squinting against the sun low on the horizon. “That’s what I miss about the outside world, all the distractions. Radio, TV, computer, you name it. A person can get lost for hours without once examining their thoughts.”
“Do you think that’s a good thing?”
“Sometimes I’d love to get lost in a game of Angry Birds.”
Spencer tested the lock one last time and sat on the rocker next to Hannah. “Really? You don’t strike me as an Angry Birds kind of person.”
She laughed. “That game’s addictive. Have you played it?” She stopped suddenly and looked at him. “Tell me something about you.”
Spencer chuckled, surprised by the abrupt change of topics. “Didn’t we already cover that topic? Change of pace. Small-town life appealed to me.”
“I can’t imagine a guy like you didn’t leave someone brokenhearted back in Buffalo.” Her cheeks flushed pink.
Spencer scrubbed a hand across his close-cropped hair. “Actually, someone I cared about broke my heart. Turns out her idea of a husband was a corporate lawyer, not a city cop.”
Hannah stopped rocking. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was trying to be funny...”
Spencer nudged her bare foot with the tip of his boot. “And what pretty feet you have.”
Hannah tipped her head, and he was left to inspect the top of her white bonnet. He reached out and traced the edge of her cap where it met her soft brown hair. Hannah lifted her head, and he dropped his hand. He couldn’t quite read the expression on her face. Alarm? Annoyance? Horror?
Clearing his throat, he held up two shiny gold keys on a small wire loop. He knew he should apologize for being so bold, but he wasn’t sorry. This young woman fascinated him, even if he had no business being fascinated by her. He had fallen for the wrong woman before. But Vicki and Hannah were different extremes. Vicki was about money and success. Hannah was...well, Hannah.
Spencer dropped the keys into her palm. “The keys are identical. Each works on the front and back doors. One key opens both the lock in the handle and the dead bolt. I left the key for the lock on your mother’s door on her kitchen table.”
Hannah closed her fingers around the keys. “Thank you. I’ll sleep better tonight.” She rearranged her dress over her legs. “I’ve been thinking about why John might be coming around to harass me.”
Spencer studied her closely. “We don’t know for sure it’s him.”
Hannah’s lips twitched, as if she were holding back her emotions. “Hear me out. John’s not in his right mind. Maybe he found out Ruthie was meeting with me. Maybe that’s why he killed her. If he couldn’t control her...” All the color drained from her already pale skin. “I blame myself. If she hadn’t been meeting with me...”
Spencer reached out and touched her knee briefly. “The only one to blame for your sister’s death is the person who—” he lowered his voice because it seemed to be the respectful thing to do “—who ended your sister’s life. Don’t you dare blame yourself.”
Don’t blame yourself?
How many times had his friends tried to convince him of that? Yet he did blame himself. If he had kept a closer eye on Daniel in Buffalo, the boy wouldn’t have been murdered on a street corner.
“Hey...” Hannah’s soft voice cut through his reverie. “Where did you go just now?”
“Nowhere. Just tired.”
The look of skepticism in her eyes told him she wasn’t buying it.
“I get it. I’m tired, too.” She leaned back and rested her head on the back of the rocker.
Spencer gathered her hands into his. “You don’t have to stay here. I can take you and the girls someplace safer.”
She pulled her hands away. “No. I can’t do that to Emma and Sarah or my mother.” She uncurled her fingers and looked down at the keys for the newly installed locks. “We’ll be safe.”
He couldn’t resist covering her hand again, dragging his thumb across the smooth skin on the back of her hand. “I’ll make sure you and the girls are safe.”
Hannah bowed her head and covered his hand with hers. “Why is it I finally meet a great guy now?”
Spencer couldn’t stifle his smile. “You think I’m a great guy?”
Shaking her head, she leaned back and sat very still. “I’m embarrassed.” She pushed to her feet and scooted past him. She braced her hands on the porch railing, her back to him
Spencer joined her. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
She ripped her bonnet from her head. She smoothed a hand across the flyaways and tugged at the bun a bit, but left it in place. “When I was in Buffalo, the few relationships I had with guys ended because they thought I was too conservative.” Hannah flicked him a sideways glance. “They made me feel so...awkward.” She brushed her pinky against his on the railing. “You’ve always made me feel comfortable.”
“I feel a but coming on...”
Hannah turned to him and gave him a sad smile.
“I’m trying to be a good parent to my nieces. And if that means being Amish, then so be it. And that means you can’t keep hanging around.”
Disappointment twisted his insides like a kick to the gut.
“My faith is important to me. I don’t want to put words in your mouth, but I get a sense—” she searched his eyes for a moment “—I sense you lost your faith somewhere along the way.”
Feeling exposed, Spencer turned away. God had let young Daniel down and in turn, Spencer had lost faith. But something about this woman and her devotion to doing what’s right sparked the kindling to his renewed faith. Just maybe...
“I think we met for a reason,” Hannah continued. “God wanted our paths to cross. Perhaps so you could be our protector.” She ran the flat of her hand across the railing. “We live in different worlds.” Hannah nodded slowly as if she had convinced herself of something.
Oh, if only circumstances could have been different.
He leaned in close and tipped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Just because you’re chasing me away, doesn’t mean I’m not going to do my job. I’m the sheriff, and my job is to keep you safe.”
Indecision darkened her eyes. He hoped maybe this meant he had a chance. Then his heart plummeted. How fair was that? The only way they could have a future was if she left the Amish once and for all. He learned a long time ago, you couldn’t force someone to live a life they hadn’t signed up for.
Vicki’s harsh words scraped across his memory.
Cold, icy regret settled in his gut. He had a job to do. That was all.
* * *
Spencer missed seeing Hannah. He had hoped to run into her in town, but either he had the worst timing, or she hadn’t been off the farm much s
ince he last saw her several days ago.
Spencer’s police cruiser found its way out to the Lapp farm. Something he did several times a shift while he was on patrol. The late-afternoon sun burned bright in the sky on the sweltering summer day.
Near the Lapp farm, a young man in a buggy tipped his hat at him as his horse galloped down the street. Spencer knew he wasn’t the most welcomed guy in the Amish community, but if he could prove to them that he was on their side, he’d hoped to win them over. The Amish wanted to live apart, but sometimes the two worlds collided. And when a law was broken, Spencer knew they’d need him.
The Amish couldn’t live completely separate.
Spencer parked and walked up to the house. He heard soft singing coming from inside. Hannah. He hated to knock, knowing it would halt her singing. He waited for a moment, listening, and laughed when he recognized the Top 40 pop tune. It wasn’t a song the young Amish would sing at their Sunday gatherings.
He knocked and as expected, the singing ceased. Hannah appeared at the door, drying her hands on a dish towel.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Spencer said through the screen door, trying to subdue his smile.
“Oh, I didn’t see you come up the driveway.” Almost reflexively, she lifted her hand to her bonnet. Hannah glanced out the door and around him, a shy smile growing on her pretty lips.
“It’s just me. Were you expecting someone?”
“No.” She took a step back, yet seemed reluctant to invite him in.
“Is something wrong?” He flashed his best disarming smile. He knew exactly what was wrong. He wasn’t holding up his side of the bargain to stay away. Let her settle into her new Amish life.
She mirrored his smile and dropped her shoulders. “Please come in. I was about to check on the girls. They’ve been playing outside, and I need to take the laundry off the line.”
He detected a hint of fatigue in her tone. “Your job is never done.”
“You’re telling me.” She lowered her voice. “I miss the days of a nine-to-five job and popping in a microwave dinner then plopping in front of the television. I didn’t realize how good I had it.” Then just like that, her cheeks turned pink, and she lifted her hands to them. “Listen to me. I’m being selfish...”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” He leaned in close and whispered, “I won’t tell anyone.”
Hannah glanced toward the kitchen. “I better go check on the little ones. Last I saw them, they were playing on the back porch. They promised me they’d be good.” She rolled her eyes as if she wasn’t sure she should believe them. “They’ve been fascinated with a stray cat they found yesterday.”
She walked toward the back door, her bare toes against the hardwood floor. Her long dress flapping against her legs. Despite her Amish wardrobe, she had a modern air about her. Or maybe he thought that because he had caught a glimpse of the woman she was in her jeans, sweatshirt and ponytail.
One can’t unsee who a person really was. He rubbed a hand across his jaw and followed her through the house and onto the back porch.
Sarah sat with her legs crossed, petting an orange tabby cat.
“The cat seems to be pretty domesticated. I wonder if someone is looking for it,” Hannah said, her tone none too concerned.
“A neighbor’s, maybe?” Spencer suggested.
Hannah shrugged, then a line deepened on her forehead. “Where’s your little sister?”
Sarah looked up, a look of disinterest on her features. “She liked to help Mem with the laundry. I think she’s in the yard.”
Hannah locked eyes briefly with Spencer before snapping her attention to the yard. A laundry line was stretched between a pole and a tree around the far side of the house. She ran down the steps and around to the side of the house.
A row of dresses of various shades of blue and purple ended where an out of place sweatshirt, jeans and pj’s clung to the line.
“Oh, my...” Hannah ran over to the clothesline. She touched the shredded fabric and turned to meet Spencer’s gaze. Her sweatshirt had met a similar fate. All her English clothes had been shredded and splattered with something black.
“Where’s Emma?” she asked more urgently, fear straining her features. Sarah had strolled over with the cat in her arms. She shrugged again. Spencer scanned the yard, unease prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement near the corner of the house.
Little Emma walked over with her black hands, palms up. “Mem’s laundry was never dirty.” Her lower lip jutted out in a pout.
Hannah ran over and crouched in front of the child and pulled her into a fierce embrace without regard for her dirty hands. “Are you okay?” She pulled Emma out to arm’s length and gave her a once-over. “Are you hurt?”
Emma shook her head. “My hands are sticky.”
Spencer crouched next to both Hannah and Emma. “Where did you get your hands dirty?” A pungent odor, like tar, reached his nose.
The little girl pointed to the side of the house. Spencer stood and walked around to where she pointed. Next to the house was a bucket of what looked and smelled like tar. A few sets of footprints were in the muddy yard.
He glanced back at Hannah and the girls, all eyes watching him. “Did either of you see anyone out here?”
Emma glanced over at Sarah, and the two of them quickly shook their heads. Almost too quickly.
“Are you sure you didn’t see anything?” Hannah asked.
“No, Aenti Hannah,” Sarah said. Emma bowed her head and bit her lip.
Sarah buried her face in the cat’s fur. Emma inspected her hands.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Hannah guided the child by the shoulder. “Spencer, would you mind watching Sarah until I get back?”
“Of course.” He sat on one of the rockers on the back porch and Sarah settled down with the cat. His gaze drifted to the side yard, where the Amish clothes hung clean on the laundry line and Hannah’s English clothes fluttered in the wind, tattered and stained. Destroyed.
SEVEN
Hannah grabbed the laundry basket and slipped outside to take her destroyed clothes off the line. Tears burned the backs of her eyes as she stretched to pinch the clothespins. Her favorite pair of jeans dropped into her arms.
She tapped her index finger gingerly over the black, tacky tar. She had purchased these jeans after she had saved enough money from her job as a bank teller. She sighed heavily, her lungs filling with the nasty scent of tar.
The designer jeans had symbolized her first success of sorts. She had, for the first time, felt like an official Englischer. She was proud of herself, a feeling so foreign to her Amish roots.
An emptiness expanded in her chest. She’d never be able to afford to replace them.
You don’t need to replace them.
Hannah worried her bottom lip and dropped the jeans into the laundry basket.
“Are you okay, Aenti Hannah?” Hannah spun around to find Emma staring up at her. “Are you sad because that man ruined your fancy clothes?”
“Did you see who did this?” Hannah struggled to keep the panic out of her voice.
Emma glanced down and played with the folds of her dress. “Um...”
Hannah knelt in front of her niece and forced a smile, even as her pulse whooshed in her ears. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”
Emma shrugged her thin shoulders. “I saw Samuel.”
Hannah swallowed hard, and her ears burned hot. “You saw Samuel do this? Samuel, who helps around the farm?”
Emma nodded, her eyes wide.
“When did you see him?”
“A little while ago.”
Hannah smoothed a hand over the cotton of her cap. “Did you see him throw this yucky tar on my clean laund
ry?”
Emma shook her head slowly. “No. He was running. Fast.”
“Which way did he run?”
Hannah spun around to find Spencer standing behind her. She guessed he had heard the entire conversation.
“That way.” Emma pointed toward the road, toward the Fisher’s house.
“We should go talk to him,” Hannah said then hesitated. “But I’m not sure it’s a good idea to talk to him in front of his father. When I talked to him earlier, he seemed afraid of his father.”
“I’ll talk to him.” Spencer crossed his arms over his broad chest, anger tightening his mouth.
Hannah grabbed his arm. “No. The sheriff showing up will only make matters worse.” A band of indecision tightened around her chest and made it hard to breathe. “I need to talk to him.”
“I’m not letting you go alone.” The determination in his eyes left no room for debate.
Hannah patted Emma’s shoulder. “Want to visit Granny for a little bit while Sheriff Maxwell and I run an errand?”
Emma’s eyes brightened. The child was so eager. A ray of sunshine.
Hannah held out her hand. “Let’s get your sister and go see Granny.”
After Hannah and Spencer got the girls settled, they took the short drive down the street. Spencer pulled up in front of Willard and Rebecca’s house. He reached to open the door, and Hannah grabbed his arm. “Wait. We need to talk to Samuel without his father. You wait here. I’ll knock on the door, pretend I need to talk to Samuel about his chores on the farm.”
Spencer gave her a brief nod, indecision flickering in his eyes. “Okay. I’ll be right here, watching.”
Hannah mimicked his quick nod and pushed open the car door. She strode up the porch, her laced boots heavy on the wood planks. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that she’d know what to say if Willard answered the door. Lying wasn’t in her makeup, but a little white one was warranted under the circumstance, if it meant protecting Samuel. She didn’t want to accuse him of anything in case Emma was mistaken.