Forsaken (29 page)

The moment Hannah bolted through the trees and disappeared, the invisible restraints holding Levi back released him and the voices buzzing and stabbing at his mind faded into nothing, like fog evaporating or a nightmare dying. He took two running steps after Hannah but stopped himself and turned back to glare at Jacob.

“What are you doing?”

Jacob gave a self-satisfied, half smile. “Whatever must be done.”

With every ounce of self-control that he possessed, Levi held himself in check and didn't follow Hannah. She was safe. For the moment. Away from Jacob at least. If Levi followed, then Jacob might too, and he wouldn't take that chance. He kept his gaze trained on his brother and walked forward, blocking Hannah's path. “Go back to wherever you came from, Jacob. You're not wanted here. Leave her alone.”

A low growl emanated from the back of Jacob's throat, and a slow, snarling smile spread across his face, the moonlight flashing against his white teeth.

“What will you do, Jacob? Kill me?” Levi's gaze dropped. “What is that on your hands?”

Jacob raised a hand, turned it palm up, and assessed it then shrugged as if unconcerned. “Blood.” Then he laughed, wiping his palm on his pant legs. “I could so easily kill you too.” He drew out the words as if he relished them. “You are as inconsequential as a dead twig.” He stalked toward Levi, his hands fisted at his sides. “And would you hold to your faith so stoically and do nothing, brother, but allow me to kill you?”

“Will killing me win you Hannah's love?”

Jacob stopped, sniffed the air. “You've brought reinforcements. But you can't stop me.”

“I wouldn't—” But the sentence died on Levi's tongue.

Because Akiva was gone.
Gone.

Levi whipped around, turning in a circle, searching the shadows, the mill, the night sky. Fear overtook him, its teeth sharp and precise, like a lion overwhelming its prey, cutting it down, killing it, then ripping it apart. He ran a couple of feet and stopped.
Where do I go? What do I do now?

“Do not hurt her, Jacob!” he yelled at the sky, the forest, the mill, his voice sounding hoarse and raw. “
Jacob!
Do you hear me?” His voice pulsed in the emptiness of the night.

Limbs and branches clawed at Hannah's face, arms, and legs, shredding her tights, snagging her cloak, and scratching bare skin. She crashed through the forest, running without looking, without seeing, tripping over snaking roots and fallen branches hidden by the fog. Her foot landed in a rut, and she fell, her hands colliding with the ground, scraping her palms.

She lay there a moment amid the musty, dank smell of fallen, crusty leaves, her breath sounding harsh and labored. Her lungs burned, her side pinched, her heart pounded. Glancing over her shoulder, she gasped for air, for understanding, but her thoughts raced ahead, out of reach, while fear nipped at her heels.

Scrambling to her feet, she pushed forward, not knowing where she was going or whom she was running from, or which lie was pursuing her. She simply knew she had to get away. When she broke free of the bushes and came into a clearing, stumbling forward a couple of steps, she came to an abrupt halt.

Akiva—or was it Jacob?—stood in a shaft of pale moonlight, his skin like alabaster. Fog crept around the lower part of his legs. Her mind folded in on itself. Question upon question in rapid succession poked at her, not allowing time for any answers or thoughts. What was happening? How did he get here ahead of her? And yet, why hadn't he come to her sooner? Why hadn't he told her who he was instead of pretending to be someone else? And why hadn't Levi told her his brother was alive? Alive! And why hadn't she recognized him, known without him telling her? She should have known.

Across her skull, she felt a pressure pushing inward, and then the whispers started. She tried to block them out, remembered Levi battling them, remembered the fear in his eyes. She'd never seen him afraid. He always reacted calmly, quickly, easily. Was it fear of Jacob she'd seen in his blue eyes? Or fear of losing her?

The questions began to fade as she focused on Jacob. What was she running from when all she'd ever wanted was standing only a few feet away? With legs that felt disjointed, she walked toward this stranger that wasn't a stranger at all. “Jacob?”

“Yes.”

“H-how is it possible?” Her voice cracked under the pressure of tears. She came before him, stopping only a foot or so away, yearning, yet disbelief held her back. It was his eyes that were different and that was all, the rest was the same. How could she have not seen it before? What could account for the change? “Are you a-a ghost?”

His throat muscles contracted. “No.”

She reached out then, touched the solidness of his chest, the place where only a few weeks ago there had been a gaping wound. And blood. She'd seen the dark color staining his shirt. Ghosts didn't bleed, did they? Ghosts weren't solid. And Jacob was rock hard. Her hand remained against his chest, and a yearning welled up inside her as tears made the vision of him waver.

This was her answered prayer in the flesh. And yet, the only thing holding her back was his lie. Why had he lied? Why had everyone lied?

Then again, why did it matter? He was here!
He is alive!

She tossed out all the questions torturing her mind, and her hand inched upward, touching the cool skin of his neck. It was when her fingers touched his hair at the base of his neck that something inside her snapped like a weak twig. Suddenly she was in his arms, solidly against his chest. Had she thrown herself at him? Or had he pulled her to him? The how no longer mattered, and neither did the how of his being there with her once again. The simple fact was: he lived. Gloriously. Amazingly. Thankfully.

That was all she cared about as she wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face against the plane of his chest, a sob of relief and joy broke through her questions and disbelief. Frantically, her hands moved over him, touching, assuring herself it was Jacob. He was here. She bracketed his face with her hands and stared deeply into those impossibly dark eyes. “It is
you
.”

Jacob kissed her then, an urgent, frenzied kiss that stole the chill of the night and banished any sense of time. When he pulled back only slightly, she felt disoriented, dizzy, confused.

“What's wrong, Jacob?” She marveled at speaking his name—to him and not a memory or a grave. And she had to say it again, as if that would make all of this seem more real. “Jacob.”

“I am no longer the Jacob I once was. I am different. I'm Akiva now.”

A disbelieving, irrational, joyful laugh bubbled out of her. “I don't understand. What does what you call yourself mat—”

“Hannah, you must know—”

“I don't care that you're changed or even why they said you were dead.” She raised up on tiptoes, her mouth aiming for his, but his arm was sandwiched between them, his hand resting against the side of her neck.

“Hannah—”

Joy sparkled inside her, and a smile broke forth. “I can't believe you're really here.” She touched his chest and shoulders and face, as if reassuring herself that this wasn't a dream. “You're really here. I know this sounds…
narrisch
but I knew you would come back. I knew it. You're here. That's all that matters now.”

His grip eased, turned into a caress, his thumb grazing the side of her neck and settling at the pulse-point center. A tingling sensation traveled along her spine and she vibrated with need. As his thumb pressed against her pulse, the beat of their hearts joined in a new rhythm, steady, sure, strong.

“Come.” He took her hand in his and led her to a fallen log. “You're trembling.” He whisked off his leather jacket and slipped it around her shoulders, yet she didn't feel cold. Instead, she felt vibrant and alive and full of wonder.

He knelt beside her, stroked the side of her face. “Hannah, there are things you should know.”

She kept his hand in hers, folding her other around his arm, not wanting to let him go for even a second. “All I need to know is that you're here with me now.”

His gaze shifted sideways, and he stared at the ground.

“What is it?”

He gave a heavy sigh. “Hannah, Jacob…the Jacob you knew
is
dead. Just as they said.” Suddenly the cold of the night made her bones ache. “I am Akiva now.”

Shivering and trembling, she lifted his hand to her cheek, and when she pulled his hand back to her lap she saw a smear of something dark across the pad of his thumb. She moved to wipe it away, but Jacob sniffed, dipped downward, and licked it off his hand. The odd gesture unsettled her. She clasped his jacket over her chest to fend off the chill of the night but her hands were suddenly unsteady.

“I can call you Akiva if that is what you wish. All I know is that I've dreamed of this moment, prayed for it, and now…” Her jaw felt as if it was disconnected, her teeth chattering, because even though joyful, she also felt something was not quite as it should be. “I'm glad you're home.”

He pushed to his feet, paced the length of the dead tree. His solemn face reflected some kind of inner turmoil.

“I missed you.” Her voice cracked.

He stopped pacing and looked down at her, a smile played about his mouth. “I know, and I've missed you too. I've thought of nothing else but returning to you. I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner.”

“But you're here now.”

“For a while.”

Fear struck at her heart. She tried to stand, to go to him, but her legs wobbled and felt suddenly weak. “You aren't staying then?”

“I cannot.”

Forcing herself to stand, she swayed slightly as if she'd lost her center. But fear of Jacob leaving her again strengthened her, and desperation stiffened her resolve. “Then I will go with you.”

His smile stretched wider though it did not seem to reach his eyes, but he reached for her, slipped his hand behind her neck, and pulled her against him.

“If you wish to come with me,” he said, his gaze sliding down to her throat. “I will make it possible.” He pressed his open mouth against her throat, and her body vibrated, then he whispered against her skin, “Do you trust me, Hannah?”

The word she imagined saying that spiraled through her mind caught in her throat. “Do you know when I first fell in love with you?”

He lifted his head, still holding her in his arms, and gazed down at her, as if amused. “Tell me.”

“When you saved me from drowning.” She traced the curve of his jaw. “I woke up in your arms. It was as if I awoke in more ways than just waking up. Suddenly I was aware of you as I had never been before.” She'd never felt embarrassed telling him of her love before, but now she felt a constriction in her chest, as if he saw through her clothes and down to the real Hannah. “B-but,” she stammered, “that really started much earlier. I remember you came in late for school one day.”

“Not just once.”

“No.” She laughed, her chest heaving toward his. “Your cheeks were bright, your brow sweaty, your eyes glowing with mischief. After Miss Malinda scolded you, you took your seat and sent me a wink. That's when it began, I reckon. But you always made me so nervous. Until you breathed life back into me that day by the creek.”

Slowly, he raised her back to a standing position, his arms still around her. “Have I told you of that day?”

“Some. But not everything.”

“I will tell you now, because you must know. This is why I have come back to you.” Gently, he moved her back and had her sit on the log, while he knelt before her. He rested one hand on her leg, his fingers threaded through hers. Her skin beneath her dress came to life like a flame from a match. “Many of us were at Hallelujah Creek, cooling off on that hot summer day. You were there, but I don't know what you were doing. Suddenly someone hollered out, and I saw a body lying face down in the water, the skirt billowing outward. The girl didn't move, didn't struggle, just laid face down. And I ran for the creek and jumped in without thought. I turned the body over and discovered it was you. Your clothes weighed you down, as did mine, and there was a cut on your forehead.” He glanced at the back of his hand joined with hers. “There was some blood but not much.”

She fingered her temple. “I had fallen. But I don't remember why or what I was doing.”

His other hand cupped her face. “You were so cold. As if you were already dead. And I was so afraid. It felt like I was frozen, unable to move for my fear. But I pulled you onto the bank. I was so afraid that you were dead. And suddenly I feared I would never be with you, never have the lives we were meant to have together.” He paused, his hand caressing her cheek. “But it doesn't have to be that way.”

“It doesn't?”

“Not at all. That day when I thought you had died, I pressed against your chest and put my mouth to yours.”

“You saved me.”

“And I can save you now. If you will let me.”

“Save me from what?”

“Death.” He placed a finger against her lips when she started to question. “I will explain it all to you. That is why I am here. I do not want you to die. I want you to live. Really live. With me, Hannah. You and me together. Forever.”

“But, Jacob—”

It was that moment, as she started to question, when she saw the change stealing across his features, the tightening of the skin around his eyes, the flaring of his nostrils, the clenching in his jaw. Jacob always wanted his way, but this irritation, this anger that seemed to radiate from him was beyond simplistic selfishness. The change in Jacob, she suspected, was not in his eye color, but deep within his heart.

Levi circled around the empty space where Jacob had been standing only moments before. Hatred had burned in Jacob's eyes and told Levi he would have killed him without hesitation—without guilt or remorse.

Over the past couple of years, Levi had seen enough oddities not to begin questioning now that his brother had indeed thinned like smoke and vanished. He was gone. It was the same as the night Jacob had irrevocably changed. But where had he gone this time?

Was he with Hannah? Fear stripped Levi bare of all pretenses, for he knew why Jacob had returned and he knew Jacob would change Hannah if he could—and she would be lost to Levi forever.

Pain doubled him over, and he felt as if his heart would burst, but he fisted his hands and began walking, each step determined. He would save her. No matter what. No matter the cost. He would not let her become like Jacob. He would not lose her.

The
Ordnung
would say he had no choice. It was her choice to make. But was it? Would Jacob give her a choice? This wasn't a simple decision to leave their Amish district. This was something darker and more sinister that wouldn't lead to a life in the
English
world. It would lead to death beyond what he knew of those buried in the cemetery. Could she understand that? Would she be given the chance?

Or maybe the
Ordnung
would say it was God's will and Levi must wait and be patient. There was wisdom in that thought, and many scripture verses substantiated that kind of decision. But still, he kept walking.

He glanced heavenward and prayed for wisdom, for guidance, for help. Then a verse came to him from one of the parables in the Book of Matthew.
For the Son of man is come to save that which was lost. How think ye? If a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and goeth into the mountains, and seeketh that which is gone astray?

Many in their district might say, according to that verse, the Great Shepherd, and not Levi, should rescue Hannah. But if one of Daniel Schmidt's cows or sheep wandered off, would Levi wait and be patient for its return? Or would he go after it? Would he suffer snows and wind and rain in search of the lost one? Would he take that risk?

Fists tightening with the fear that each moment was precious and time was waning, he quickened his pace until he was running in the direction Hannah had gone. He ripped through the forest, shoving limbs aside, breaking branches that tore at his face and clothing. He ran until his lungs burned and still he kept on until he broke through a fog bank and stumbled into a clearing.

Moonlight poured down into the opening, which was surrounded by tall hickories and pines along with scrubby bushes. It was a wide space, pockmarked by fallen trees and the remains of a brick fireplace, which once had warmed the home of a settler. Nature had begun reclaiming the space once cleared. Seedlings and saplings sprang up from what was once a hard-packed floor, and weeds sprouted from the broken mortar of a chimney, proof of what became of things that went untended.

But the field was empty. No one was here. Not Jacob. Not Hannah.

Had they been there? Was he too late?

Desperation inched upward from heart to throat, and he searched the area, finding footprints pressed into the soft earth around a fallen log. But were they Hannah's? Jacob's? Levi wasn't sure. He searched the boundaries of the clearing for more broken branches or limbs, but he found no evidence that they had been here.

A crunching noise startled him and he whirled around, hoping it was Hannah, fearing it might be Jacob. But he saw nothing—nothing at all but the swirling vestiges of mist and fog.

Swollen clouds rolled across the moon. A blustery cold wind stirred up dead leaves, lifting them off the ground momentarily as if they might take flight but then catapulting them back down. The wind banished the fog and the temperature dropped considerably. Levi listened hard for a hint that Jacob might be near. Or Hannah. The voices in his head that had assaulted him earlier were no longer taunting and teasing him. As the wind died, the leaves settled once again. He searched the shadows along the edges, but the clearing was still and quiet, except for the clapping of his heartbeat.

He sniffed the air as he'd seen Jacob do. What had he meant by “reinforcements”?
What reinforcements?
Levi had brought no one. Maybe he should have.

Levi made a wide turn and backed toward the forest where he had come from. What now? Where should he go? Where would Jacob take her? Or where would she hide?

Then something cold and wet hit his cheek, and before he could react the sky opened and freezing rain poured down, stabbing at Levi. The sleet slanted downward at a hard angle and struck his exposed skin like sharp needles. With head tucked downward, he retraced his steps through the forest, hearing the clicking of the frozen rain against the leaves, and returned to the mill, where he scooped up his hat, but it did little to protect him and made him realize how little he was doing to protect Hannah.

By the time he reached the Schmidt farm, every post and shingle glistened with a light coating of ice. He felt his heart's full exposure more than his skin's. Heading straight for the back door, he pounded on it, his anxiety growing with each jarring sensation that rattled him as much as the door on its frame. Hannah's name burst out of him and he prayed she was home, prayed she was safe. “Hannah!”

The door finally opened, and a sleepy if not startled Daniel Schmidt stood there in his nightshirt and pants with his suspenders dangling at his sides. “Levi? What has happened? Is the barn ablaze?”

“Where is Hannah?”

From behind her husband, Marta Schmidt peered at Levi. “Why? What do you mean?”

“Hannah was with me…and then we were separated…and I need to find her. To talk with her. To make sure she is safe. Is she here?”

Alarm creased the older woman's brow. She turned toward the stairs and a pair of bare feet retreated. “Katie? Is Hannah upstairs with you?”

“She left a while ago.”

“Something may have happened to her.” Frantic now, Levi gripped the doorframe hard, the wood digging into his flesh, as his mind raced. What was he to do now? Where should he go? Where would Jacob take her?

A hand settled on his shoulder. Daniel Schmidt looked up at him, his face calmer than Levi felt. “She will come back.”

Concern twisted Levi's insides. “We have to—”

“She is old enough to be of her own mind, Levi. It is her running around time. But I have faith—”

“But—”

Daniel raised a hand to stop Levi from saying anything else. “I know where your interest lies. If you had a disagreement with Hannah, she will come around. You will be able to discuss it in the morning after we've all had a good night's sleep.”

“You don't understand.”

“We must trust in the Lord.”

But it was more than running around and doing things forbidden by the
Ordnung
, like smoking and drinking, and riding in cars. The danger Hannah faced was far worse than her father could imagine. But how could Levi explain? “Daniel—”

“I know how you feel, Levi, and I have been praying my stubborn daughter will have a change of heart. But first, she must test her faith.” He patted Levi's shoulder. “We must be patient.”

“You don't understand—”

“Most young folks think we old folks don't understand what goes on, but we were young too.” He stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him. “We faced temptations once. And you and I both know Hannah is a wise young woman. She will make the right decision in the end.”

But would Jacob?
It was a chance Levi was not willing to take. “Daniel—”

“And,” the older man interrupted him again, “in the mean time, we must sleep.
Ja?
”

As Daniel turned back into his house and left Levi on the porch with the tapping of sleet all around, Levi set his jaw. He would find her. He had no choice.