“Hannah.” Martin’s voice drew her back.
She jumped to her feet. “Hi.” She slid her hand into his, dismissing romantic thoughts of Paul. Her life, her family, her dreams were with the man beside her.
Paul rose.
Martin’s eyes flicked over him before he focused on Hannah. “Problem?” Smoothly he pulled his hand free from hers and ran his arm behind her, placing his palm on the small of her back. A reminder of her real life. The one she’d built despite everything. The one he’d helped her attain.
“No, not at all.” She smiled, offering an unspoken apology.
His professional demeanor seemed to be in place, and his features didn’t return an ounce of warmth.
Trying to dispel the tension, she motioned toward Paul. “Paul, I’d like you to meet Martin Palmer. Martin, this is Paul Waddell.”
Martin’s green eyes flashed with annoyance for a moment before he gave a nod. “Paul.” With his left hand still on Hannah’s back, he held out the other.
Paul shook his hand. “Have any trouble finding the place?”
“No, but I get the feeling it’ll be hard finding a topnotch hotel.” Martin’s features edged with tautness as he checked his watch. “Why don’t we go upstairs so you can see Mary before it gets too late?”
Paul gestured down the hallway. On their way to the elevator, they passed a few groups of people, their voices hushed as they headed for the exit.
Keeping one hand on Hannah’s back, Martin punched the elevator button. “It’s nearly nine. I’m sure visiting hours are over, so we need to wrap this up quickly.” He spoke softly, and she knew he expected a nod.
She didn’t respond.
Her dearest childhood friend and her closest sibling had a baby girl. Hannah wanted to celebrate, to watch the joy on their faces as they held this little girl. It meant so much more than the fact they were her family and she’d known what to do to help them. It meant finding strength and tucking it away for days that carried no hope. And she didn’t want to be rushed through it.
Only the three of them stepped onto the elevator. Paul pushed the button with the number four on it and the doors closed.
Martin leaned against the wall, eying Paul with disdain. “So, how’s the shoulder?”
Paul’s expression seemed rigid. “Healed.”
Martin rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.”
Hannah looked from one man to the other. The gentlemanly welcomes had faded. Martin’s thinly veiled manners didn’t fool her. He could not care any less about Paul’s arm. He wanted Paul to know he knew—everything. And Paul’s one-word answer drew a distinct boundary—around what she wasn’t sure—but she was becoming familiar with this in-your-face, unmovable side of him.
She knit her brows slightly, trying to pass Martin a silent message to be nice, but he acted indifferent to her subtle messages. “Paul said that my Daed is here.”
Martin gave half a nod. The doors opened, and she stepped off with Martin right behind her. While Paul went on ahead, Martin tugged on her hand, and she stopped.
“Do you think maybe you could not flirt with him while I’m here?” His words were but a whisper, his anger deep.
She shook her head. “I … I …”
“I know what I saw in the lobby, Hannah—your eyes locked on his.”
What was she going to say to him? Tell him the truth, that sometimes being near Paul was just too much?
Martin started walking in the same direction Paul had, but he was not within sight. They’d only gone a short way when she realized she didn’t have a room number for Mary. Turning to go back to the nurses’ station, she spotted her father walking toward her.
“Daed …” She pressed her hand down the front of her dress. “I’d like you to meet Martin Palmer. Martin, this is my father, Zeb Lapp.”
“Hi.” Martin’s tone was neither warm nor cold. He had little respect, if any, for her father, the man who’d given Zabeth a difficult time when she chose to leave the church after becoming a baptized member.
Without any appearance of anger or resentment, her father studied Martin before he shook his hand. “Hello.” He had no idea who Martin was, no clue that his sister, Zabeth, had spent her adult life helping raise him.
A grin caused lines to crease around her father’s mouth. “It’s been a couple of days, and Luke’s still about to burst he’s so excited about being a Daed, but he says no one but him and Mary can hold the baby until you and that Mennonite …” He let the sentence drop, dipped his head apologetically, before looking her in the eye again. “Until you and Paul do.”
“What? I had no idea.”
“Since most don’t come to the hospital for such things anyway, it doesn’t matter much. They’ll wait until Luke and Mary are home to go by and see the baby.” He tilted his head, studying his daughter. “You told Mary to call an ambulance and come here?”
Hannah froze, her mind running a thousand miles a second. He seemed to be asking sincerely and was clearly confused by the contradictions of what’d taken place two nights ago—the ambulance, the surgery, Luke and Mary not allowing anyone in until Hannah and Paul went in. Yet in spite of the confusion and mystery, he didn’t seem to be accusing her of any misdeed.
“I did.”
Daed adjusted his black winter hat. “You have no more to say than that?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Her father’s eyes stayed hard on her. “You’re a tough one to figure, child. When you were a little girl,”—he held his hand two feet off the ground—“just a tiny thing, you were more independent than half the men I knew. And smart.” He scoffed. “You scared me. You should have seen yourself. It was something to behold. I wavered during your whole childhood between being proud of you and fearing you’d turn against God.” He rubbed his rough, dry hands together. “ ‘Do by self.’ That was one of the first things you ever learned to say, and say it you did, all the time.” He paused, pain reflected in his eyes. “I never once intended to be a cause for you to turn against Him. I thought I was holding you in place, keeping you submissive to a higher calling.”
“There is no higher calling than freedom in Christ.”
“But I’m your father. I had the right to decide where you should be, how you should dress and act.” He lowered his eyes. “And who you should be with.”
Determined to share her mind without sounding harsh, Hannah set her will to speaking softly. “Then when is it a parent’s responsibility to let go and let their offspring find the path God has for them?”
Her father sighed and removed his hat. “I got some things to say, and I don’t mind saying them right now, unless you got a problem with that.”
“Go ahead.”
“When I insisted on you talking to the church leaders before I’d let you move back home from Mary’s, I thought I was helping clear your name. I was sure they’d hear you out and say you were innocent of any real wrongdoing, but then during the meeting I learned that you’d been sneaking around behind my back with Paul and that you’d been keeping all sorts of secrets from me. I got so mad when I learned that, I was convinced you’d lied to me about everything, including the night of the unmentionable. It made sense to think you’d had a fight with him that night and while running home you’d fallen headlong, cutting your palms. And I figured all those tears and rough times you went through were because you was pining over him. Those sorts of conclusions happen when a parent learns a child’s been lying.” He drew a long breath, twisting the hat in his hand around and around. “But bringing you before the church leaders turned out to be unjust. I just wanted you to tell the truth so we didn’t look like heathens with you needing a place to raise your child outside of wedlock, but I never once thought you’d up and leave before we worked everything out.”
There she stood, needing to forgive a man whose hand in dishing out misery to her was every bit as real as her attacker’s. The second hand on the wall clock made its little tick, tick, tick. Words didn�
��t form in her mind. Among the Plain, withholding forgiveness was cause for losing all chance of salvation. The words I forgive had to be spoken, and then the person could wrestle with any lingering resentments on their own.
Still, she said nothing.
She could feel Martin’s hand on her back, nudging her. He wanted her to speak. Flashing him a look to stop, she sidestepped him.
“That’s all I needed to say. Maybe you can think on it a spell, and we’ll talk later.”
Her father wasn’t going to lecture her that her salvation was at stake?
“I … I’d like that.” As wobbly as a new calf, she gave him a kiss on the cheek.
His eyes misted. “Go on, now.” He pointed down the hall.
She glanced to Martin.
“I’m fine. Go do whatever it is Luke wants. I’ll sit with your dad.”
Her Daed took a seat.
Martin pulled change from his pocket and moved to the vending machine. “Care for a drink, Mr. Lapp?”
Their voices faded as Hannah entered the hallway. Farther down the corridor, she spotted Paul outside one of the rooms, waiting on her. When she came close, he put his hand on the door as if he was going to open it, but then he paused. “Hannah, in spite of any problems this caused you, Luke and Mary are very grateful you came.”
She understood. He was giving assurance that whatever price he thought she was paying with Martin was worth it because of Luke and Mary’s gratefulness. But Martin wasn’t who he appeared to be to Paul. He was deep and wonderful, but if she defended him right now, Paul wouldn’t believe her anyway.
Without answering him, she pushed the door open herself. Mary was propped up in bed, her prayer Kapp in place and a tiny infant in her arms. She smiled broadly, radiating joy so strong Hannah basked in the strength of it.
Luke crossed the room and hugged Hannah, almost stealing her breath. “How can I thank you?”
She held on to him. “Oh, I’ll have to think that over and come up with a way here or there, regularly for decades.”
Luke chuckled. “You do that.”
“Look.” Mary’s raspy voice was barely recognizable. She fidgeted with the blankets surrounding the tiny bundle in her arms.
Hannah moved to one side of the bed and Paul to the other, each looking at the new life in Mary’s arms. She lifted her daughter toward Hannah, which made the baby start crying.
Hannah eased the infant from her mother’s arms. “Shh, Liewi, Ich denk nix iss letz. Ya?” She bounced her gently, assuring her that nothing was wrong, and the newborn became quiet.
Looking like his shirt was entirely too small for his swollen chest, Luke smiled. “We thought about naming her Hannah.”
Hannah froze. “What? No. Don’t—”
“But we decided to name her after someone easier to raise than you,” Mary teased.
“Than me?” Hannah quipped. “What about you?”
Mary giggled and then grabbed her stomach and moaned. “Oh, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
Luke moved to Hannah’s side and placed his finger against the palm of his daughter’s hand. “We’ll do our best to guide her, but as far as who she is or becomes—what will be, will be. And she’ll be my daughter the same as she’s His daughter, no matter what she chooses. We named her Amanda. It means ‘worthy to be loved.’ ”
“Perfect,” Hannah whispered, marveling at the little girl in her arms. An ache tugged at her for all the babies she’d never have and even for the lifetime of holidays and birthdays of her nieces and nephews that she’d miss. Mary and she gushed over the baby for quite a spell before she walked around the bed and gently laid the tiny infant in Paul’s arms.
Paul held the girl as if he’d held newborns many times before, and Hannah was sure he had. His sister had children, and no telling how many other relatives and friends had babies. His tall, muscular body appeared gigantic next to the tiny newborn.
She turned to Luke. “If you want to do something nice for me, I’d like for you and Mary to meet Martin.”
The newborn started fussing again, and Paul eased her back into her mother’s arms.
Luke glanced to Paul before nodding. “Sure, go get him.”
When she stepped into the hallway, she spotted Martin leaning against a wall. She motioned for him. When he was toe to toe with her, she stayed put, looking him in the eye. “About Paul in the lobby, I should’ve been more aware, more careful. I’m really sorry.”
He started to brush the backs of his fingers down her arm but lowered his hand.
What had she done to them?
Martin sighed. “I know.” Unlike other arguments, this time she received no understanding smile or kiss on the forehead. “Can we get out of here now?”
“Soon. I want you to meet Luke and Mary first.” She wrapped one arm through his and kissed his cheek. He remained unmoved, staring at her. Then he slowly turned her hand palm up and eased his finger across the center of it, telling her his heart was hers. Closing her hand around his, she returned his message. She didn’t want his heart anywhere else.
He finally drew a deep breath, and she saw a hint of a smile.
Hannah held his hand as they began walking. “They named the baby Amanda, and she’s absolutely perfect.”
Inside Dr. Lehman’s office with the door closed, Hannah bolted to her feet and began pacing. “I don’t want to know this.”
Dr. Lehman pressed the ends of his fingers together. “That’s not the reaction I expected.”
“You told me when I woke from that coma that I couldn’t have babies.”
“No, I said you were unlikely to, and I had no idea you thought ‘unlikely’ meant no chance. Although looking back at how young and confused you were, I guess I should’ve clarified it long before now.” He tapped the latest edition of a medical journal that lay open in front of him. “There’s an article in here that says after a few years of healing, women who were in your situation and your age bracket conceived again without medical intervention.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I thought you’d be glad to know, and if you’re not, then you definitely need to know, don’t you?”
His reasoning was sound, but this information would only complicate things between her and Martin. She plunked into a chair.
Dr. Lehman propped his elbows on his desk. “Want to talk about why you’re reacting like this?”
Hannah shook her head, wishing the news meant life and love and joy. Instead it meant confusion and … probably arguments and compromises.
“Hannah, I really thought you’d be encouraged by the news.”
“One would think.” She ran her fingers across her forehead. “Martin’s asked me to marry him, and he doesn’t want children. I’ll have to agree to use birth control when the time comes. Do you know how difficult that is for someone who’s been raised Amish?”
“As a delivery doc for the Plain community, I’ve got a strong idea. It crosses a moral line for most, and in spite of being such a practical group, their love of family outweighs all else.”
“I didn’t want to know this.” Her eyes met his.
He closed the journal. “I can tell. Need to go for a walk or something?”
She wanted to go spend time with Martin and hope he had something wise to say that could make this news work for both of them. He had his usual pre-Thanksgiving entourage at his house right now, playing music and enjoying the day without her.
Hannah glanced at her watch. “How close do you think Elsie is to delivering?”
“With it being her first, a while yet. I suspect at least five hours.”
“Can I go to Martin’s and you call me when her time is closer?”
“You’ve been with her, answering her questions, since before she was married. She’ll be upset if you’re not here.”
“I know. I’ll be back.” She needed to sort through this, and seeing Martin always helped.
“Be back here in two hours.”
With her head spinning, Hannah drove to Martin’s house, wondering how she’d tell him. He’d probably tell her not to worry about it, that he’d have a vasectomy or she could have her tubes tied or something. Not being able to conceive was one thing, but trying to prevent it? That was an issue she hadn’t worked through. The idea of birth control was disconcerting to the very center of who she was. And if she could possibly conceive, she’d need birth control for decades, not just a few years.
Deciding that after their trip to Hawaii was probably a better time to share her newfound info, Hannah felt a little peace wash over her. It seemed that in nothing flat she was parking at the front curb of Martin’s house. One glimpse of the place made her wonder just how many extra people he’d invited for this year’s pre-Thanksgiving blowout. The driveway and turnaround were packed with cars, and she couldn’t afford to get blocked in.
When she opened the front door, she heard Martin singing with the band. Newly hung Christmas lights surrounded doorframes, wound up the staircase, and outlined the windows. Unfamiliar voices echoed throughout as loud laughter greeted her. Hannah slid out of her coat and hung it in the hall closet. She spoke to various people she knew as she went to check on Lissa and Kevin. The children were surrounded by other kids, all of whom barely glanced up from their video games. She refused to go look at the cover of the game. Her vote was to limit their watching television or playing video games to G-rated ones and only once a week, but she stayed out of Martin’s decisions on such matters.
Content that things were running smoothly, albeit not in a manner she would have chosen, Hannah went to the kitchen to check on Laura and found her restocking a platter of food. “Hey, you’re back. How was it?”
Hannah popped a grape into her mouth. “A young woman I’ve worked with for a long time is in the early stages of labor in her first pregnancy.”
Laura threw an empty plastic platter in the trash. “Don’t you usually stay when you’re on call and someone’s in labor?”
Sisters of the Quilt Page 89