A Time To Heal (22 page)

He heard the bitterness in his voice and got to his feet. “I'm sorry. I'm just angry that this happened.”

“Angry at yourself or angry at God?”

Startled, Chris stared at him. “A little of both, I guess.”

“I don't see how you could have prevented what happened.God allows for free will—for people to do things even when He probably wishes they didn't. And can you blame God when we don't understand why He allows things? He has His reasons and our job isn't to question Him.”

Chris paced the barn again. “I tried to get her to leave, but she came back. She came back and put her buggy right in front of Kraft.”

Matthew folded his arms across his chest and studied Chris. “I didn't hear all this before. I thought she just got in the way.”

“Oh no,” Chris said, spinning to glare at Matthew. “That crazy sister of yours decided she'd stop him from hurting me.”

“She must love you even more than I thought,” Matthew murmured, looking thoughtful. “Jenny said so, but I didn't believe her. Don't know why,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and giving Chris a sheepish grin. “She's always right.”

Then his grin faded. “So now you have a lot of forgiving to do, eh? Kraft. Hannah. God. And yourself.”

Chris slid his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah.”

“You could talk to the bishop, you know. He helped me a lot when I felt angry at God.”

“You were?”

“Isn't everyone at some point in his life? I experienced such anger when Amelia suffered such a terrible illness, enraged that He took her home to be with Him when we loved and needed her. I shouldn't have been left by myself to raise our
kinner.
They shouldn't have lost their precious
Mamm. Ya,
I was angry. It took a long, long time and a lot of talking to the bishop to get over that.”

Chris thought about how he'd been so angry with God when he watched buddies get hurt and sometimes die during his tour. He'd been angry and hurt when his superiors and the men he served with didn't back him up to see that Kraft got prosecuted. All of that was bad enough.

Then, with a week to go before he got out, he'd been hit with a roadside bomb. Now he figured any woman would run screaming if she saw the scars on his body in the daylight.

Joshua ran into the barn. “
Daedi! Aenti
Hannah needs help—”

Chris felt his heart jump into his throat. “What's wrong? Has he come back?”

“What … who?”

“The man who shot her.” His voice rose. “Has he come back?”

“
Nee.”
Joshua looked from Chris to his father and then back at Chris. “There's no man. She just wants
Daedi
to come over and help move something.”

He turned to his father. “Hannah says Phoebe's going to do it if you don't get there quick!”

Matthew thrust the hay hook at Chris and hurried out of the barn, muttering about some women taking on more than they should.

Chris's heart settled back down where it should be. He finished Matthew's task, then fed the horses. Joshua followed behind him, giving the horses fresh water to drink.

“You need to go see her.”

“She doesn't want to see me.”

Chris avoided Jenny's eyes and wondered how he'd allowed himself to be trapped into talking to Jenny. When she'd asked him to help her carry the refreshment tray back to the house, he'd been suspicious but didn't know how to refuse.

Then, when they reached the porch, she indicated that he should sit in a chair, then drew another chair over and sat beside him.

“She does.”

Chris drained the glass of iced tea and set it down on the table beside him on. “She can't possibly want me to visit her after I was responsible for her getting hurt.”

“That was Kraft's fault, not yours. I know you care for her— I saw that. And she cares for you too.”

His heart leaped at the thought, but just as quickly he tamped down his feelings and shook his head. “It doesn't matter.How could that work with our differences?”

“Which differences would those be?”

He stared at her as if she'd grown three eyes. “Religious, cultural.”

Her gaze went to the fields, and he looked in the direction she did and saw Matthew.

“It's worked well for us,” she said slowly, and she looked at him again. “I'm not saying it hasn't been hard adjusting sometimes even though my grandmother was Amish and I visited during some summers.”

She smiled and set her glass on the tray. “Matthew was the boy next door I had a crush on and never forgot.”

He watched her absently rub at a faded scar on her hand.It no longer felt strange to see this woman he'd seen at the veteran's hospital wearing Plain clothing, doing chores around the farm, and stealing time to write while the children—her children now—were at school.

“Not everyone was accepting of our getting married,” she told him with a smile.

They looked at each other and at the same time said, “Josiah.”

She laughed. “Yes. Apparently you and I are in a unique society for his … mistrust. But he's grown to accept me even if he doesn't approve of me. It'll take time for him to accept you.”

“You act like I'm staying.”

Getting to her feet, she reached down and patted his cheek.“Yes, because even though you're a man, I think you're smarter than that.”

“Hey!”

She stopped at the door and turned around. “Look, I shouldn't have teased you. It's scary loving someone. But do you really want to walk away from Hannah without even trying to see if it'll work?”

She didn't wait for him to answer.

Good thing, he thought, because he didn't know what to say.

Hannah sat with her quilting circle, trying to stitch a section of the Sunshine and Shadow quilt she'd started for Chris before she was shot.

It was fortunate that she was right-handed and it was her left arm that had been injured. But the awkwardness and occasional pain shooting down her arm as she worked didn't make things easy.

She didn't know why she was still working on this. Why should she give him a quilt when he wouldn't visit her—even now when only a field separated them?

The other women had offered to help her complete it, but she always finished what she started. First, she'd finish the quilt.

Then she'd have a talk with him and he'd hear how she felt about him not coming to see her.

Then she thought, why not now? The time was right—right now!

She marched to the door.

“Hannah? Where are you going?” Phoebe called to her.

The other ladies looked up from their quilting.

“I need to go next door for something. I'll be right back.”

She found Jenny in the kitchen, sitting at the table, writing on a big yellow pad.

“Well, hello! Are you through with the quilting already? I can fix us some tea—”

“So what does 'sweetheart' mean?” she asked without preamble.

“You know what it means.”

“Tell me.”

“Okay. It's a term someone uses when they love you.”

“The meaning hasn't changed?”

Jenny stared at her. “No. Why?”

“I'll be right back.”

Hannah turned on her heel and stomped outside. But she didn't see Chris in the fields with the other men.

Joshua was working in the yard.

“Where's Chris?”

“He left just a few minutes ago,” Joshua told her.

“Left? Where was he going?”

“I don't know.”

Hannah scanned the fields. It seemed to her that the harvesting had been completed for all practical purposes. Had Chris gone into town—or had he left for good?

“Do you need something,
Aenti
Hannah?”

“I'll say. I need to tell that man—” She stopped when she saw the curiosity on Joshua's face. “How long ago?”

“Just a little while ago. I could go try to catch him for you.”

“Never mind,” she said, gritting her teeth. “Can you hitch up Daisy for me?”

“
Schur.”

They walked over to Phoebe's barn.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Joshua asked as he led a fully recovered Daisy out with the buggy. “You need help, don't you?” He waved his hand at her sling.

Such a sweet boy. She hoped he didn't grow up to be a man who drove women crazy like Chris.

“I'll be fine.
Danki,
Joshua.” She climbed into the buggy and Daisy started off.

Hannah muttered to herself as they traveled, rehearsing what she wanted to say to Chris. Okay, so apparently they weren't going to have the relationship she'd hoped they would, but weren't they at least friends? Didn't friends visit each other when they were ill or when they came home from the hospital? Didn't they wish each other well?

And if he was leaving for good, couldn't he at least say goodbye to her? She deserved that, didn't she?

Halfway to town, she saw his lone figure ahead. His long legs were putting more distance between them.
You just can't get away fast enough, can you?
she wanted to ask him. She urged Daisy faster so that she could pull up beside him.

He glanced up as the buggy came level with him, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Hannah!”

“I want to talk to you!”

“Okay.”

He joined her at the side of the road after she'd pulled the buggy over. She remembered the last time she'd seen him on this road, remembered what had happened, but she pushed that memory aside.

“What's up?”

“What's up?” she burst out. “What's up?”

“Yeah. You okay?”

“You'd know if you visited me!”

His expression became shuttered. “I didn't think you'd want to see me.”

“Well, you thought wrong!”

He blinked. “Evidently you have something to say. Maybe you should just say it.”

“So you figured you'd just waltz out of town without saying good-bye?”

“I wasn't—”

“I thought we were at least friends,” she snapped, using the line she'd rehearsed on the ride to find him. “Friends don't treat each other this way!”

“No, they don't,” he agreed, stepping closer.

“I asked Jenny what 'sweetheart' means.”

“You did?” he asked, looking wary.

“Yes. I checked to see if it had the same meaning I thought it did—that it hadn't become something like 'babe' or 'chick.' Like the town of Intercourse nearby.”

“So Jenny was right.”

“Yes, she said the meaning—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I'm talking about what she said the day you were put in the hospital. She said that people can hear sometimes when you think they're unconscious. You heard me.”

She nodded. “You call me sweetheart and then you leave? If this is the way people treat each other in the
Englisch
world then I'm glad I'm here!”

A police cruiser approached from the opposite side of the road. It slowed and the officer leaned out the open window.

“Any problem, folks?”

“Hello, Officer Lang,” Chris said.

They knew each other? Hannah wondered where the attractive officer had met Chris and felt a stab of jealousy as she saw how friendly the woman behaved toward him. She bit her lip.

Then inspiration struck.

“He's not supposed to be leaving town, is he, Officer?”

“Pardon me?”

“Well, I mean, you haven't wrapped up your investigation with the shooting, have you? Isn't he supposed to stick around until after it's done?”

“I—” The officer looked at Chris and then back at Hannah.

“Well, no, everything's not all tied up,” the woman said slowly. “He needs to stick around for a while.”

“I do?”

She nodded. “I'll be checking back.”

A voice squawked out something on the communication system in her car. She tilted her head and listened. Then she turned to look at them. “Gotta go.”

“But—”

She glanced back at Hannah. “It'll be interesting to see how this works out.”

The car accelerated down the road, and the lights flashed and the siren came on.

“I think you need to see something,” Chris said. Taking his backpack off, he opened it. “Look inside.”

Wary, she peeked in as he requested. She saw a wallet and the library book he'd borrowed along with a plastic bottle of water. There was nothing else.

Confused, she looked at him.

“I was taking the library book back. They found it in Kraft's room. Thought I'd return it. Didn't want you to be in trouble with that librarian. She scared me.”