Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (44 page)

Realizing Naomi wasn’t going to tell her anything and ready to search for what was making this noise, Sarah rose. “I was hoping you’d say something that could help me understand.”

Naomi straightened her pinafore. “I’d like to know some things too, like where she was heading when she boarded that train.”

Wrapping her cloak around her, Sarah asked, “Did you see her get on the train?”

“Oh, honey, I sure did. You don’t need to worry about that. She got on that train safe and sound with her tickets in hand.”

Sarah nodded. So Hannah did leave Owl’s Perch. That actually brought Sarah a measure of relief, although she couldn’t figure out why. She excused herself and slipped out the door and listened for the sound. It was coming from Matthew’s shop.

Hoping Naomi didn’t look out her window, Sarah scampered across the yard to the shop. After looking everywhere on the first floor, she climbed the ladder to the storage loft. She looked behind every crate for signs that someone was hiding Hannah’s baby. She found none. But it had to be alive somewhere.

When the front door swooshed open, Sarah jumped.

A moment later it closed. She tiptoed in the direction of the ladder, cringing with every moan the wooden floorboards made.

“Hello?” Matthew called.

No way around it, she was caught. With her heartbeat going wild, she hollered down, “Hi, Matthew.” Her voice sounded guilty, even to her. Navigating each rung of the ladder carefully, she made her way to the ground floor.

“I saw Old Bess hitched to a buggy out front. I figured it’d be you that came over here, but I guessed you were in the house.”

Shaking the dust from her dress, Sarah refused to look at him. “I was. I brought your family some sticky buns, but then I came out here to see you.”

“In the attic?” he scoffed. “What are ya really lookin’ for, Sarah? Peace?”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not the one who’s done anything wrong.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Matthew rocked back. “Ah, now I see how you’re living with yourself.”

She brushed dust off her black cloak. “Well, aren’t you just cheeky and rude when you’re by yourself?”

“Sticking with Hannah’s wishes, I ain’t told anyone what I know. But don’t let that piece of information make you think it’ll stay that way.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“Your sister was better to you than anyone. You can mark my words on that. She saw you for what you are and loved you anyway—until you ruined her whole life.”

His words stung something horrid, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. “And to think I held you in such high esteem. It’s clear enough that Hannah has cast her spell over you just like she did my Jacob.”

“It ain’t like that between me and Hannah. But I’d like to know one thing from you, and then maybe I won’t tell your secret.”

The shrieking cry filled the room. Sarah jumped, a gray eeriness settling over her. “What was that?”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “A tomcat killed all the mama cat’s babes. She ain’t quit hollering over it yet.”

Sarah swallowed hard. A mama cat?

The baby’s not dead. It’s not
.

An image of a tiny coffin lying in a grave with dark soil being tossed onto it flashed through her mind. She sucked in air and scrunched her eyes closed, trying to free herself of the sickening thought.

“You okay?”

“Of course,” she snapped. “I need to go.”

“Not before you’ve answered my question.”

“What?”

Matthew leaned against the planked wall, blocking her exit. “I’m not going to ask why you told everyone about Hannah going out for a late night ride. It happened. You told—out of jealousy is my guess. But why did you lie about how long she was gone?”

“I’m not jealous!” she fumed.

“Answer the question.”

“I didn’t lie.” She just wasn’t sure, that was all. Most of her life she’d lost track of time easily. Had she lost track that night?

“Wrong answer.”

“Well, if you’re so smart, how long was she gone?”

“Less than five minutes, and we never left sight of the house, just like she said.”

Sarah drew back “We? You were with her? That can’t be. I saw her in a tourist buggy with a horse I ain’t never seen before.”

“Look around you, Sarah. Part of what I do is take old buggies and refinish them, some of them for touristy places. I go to the racetrack and buy horses and train them, sometimes for those same places.”

The screaming returned, banging against her temples and shrieking at her. “But—”

“There are no
buts
. I’ll put my hand on the Bible and say how long we were gone that night. Will you stick by your story that well?”

Beads of sweat rolled down her back, and suddenly the door loomed in front of her. Pushing it open, she gulped cold air and ran to her buggy. Shaking like a leaf, she flicked the reins and started toward home. As the horse lumbered onward, guilt inched into her thoughts, feuding with the fear of what would happen when the community found out she’d been wrong.

Her thoughts suddenly became dull and confused, as if a tornado had deadened a path through her mind.

Matthew met Elle at the car and took the books from her hands as she got out. Peter and David wasted no time heading inside the house—for food, he was quite sure.

“Come on.” Matthew led her into the privacy of his repair shop. Once they were sitting on the couch, he drew a deep breath and told the whole story of his and Hannah’s buggy ride, how she came to stay at his repair shop overnight, and why he’d kept secrets for Hannah.

Elle rose. “That buggy ride everyone talked about … It was you she was with?” She gaped at him in disbelief.

“The rumors are lies. We weren’t gone no thirty minutes. I bet it wasn’t even five.”

“Every time I think things are straight between us, something else concerning Hannah comes up.” She rolled her eyes. “If it’s all so innocent, why keep it a secret from me?”

“Hannah asked me to, and I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.”

“And keeping secrets was your way to win my trust?”

Matthew stood. “See, Hannah and—”

She rose on her tiptoes and pushed her finger against his chest. “If you don’t quit talking about Hannah, I’m going to scream.”

“You are screaming.”

She narrowed her eyes and growled at him. “Make the point, Matthew—without Hannah’s name being mentioned—before I show you just how loud I can scream.”

“Elle, none of the rumors are true. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “It’s just all so infuriating. I want to believe you. You know I do.”

Matthew inched closer, fearing she’d step farther away, but she didn’t. “Elle, there was a time when I thought maybe I’d enjoy taking Hannah home from singings. It was just a thought, no real emotions or desires attached to it. Then I met you.”

“So I have two choices: believe you and maybe play the fool for life, or believe the rumors and go find someone else.”

“For life?” Matthew smiled.

“Oh shut up.” She stormed off to the far side of the room.

“You know, you’re a mite easier to get along with in the morning than in the afternoon.”

A short burst of laughter escaped her. Matthew had the sneaking suspicion he’d hit on a truth about her that she already knew. He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms.

“We’re not finished arguing.” She pushed against him, but he didn’t let go.

He ran his finger over her lips. “Could we take a break and return to arguing later?”

Expecting a snippy remark, Matthew was caught off guard when she slowly kissed his finger.

He lifted her chin and kissed her the way he wished he’d had time to do that morning. “Marry me, Elle,” Matthew mumbled between kisses.

Someone banged on the door, making them both jump. A moment later the door swung open.

“Dad,” Elle whispered.

D
eep darkness became a reddish black as Hannah tried to open her eyes. Papers were rustling somewhere close by.

“Can you hear me?”

A machine near her head made little bleeps faster and faster.

“It’s okay. Stay calm. You’re in Alliance Community Hospital.”

A wave of nausea ran through her. She couldn’t be in the hospital. How would she pay? They would find her, and her father would come. Her eyes refused to open. The dark world tugged at her, and she struggled to stay awake. She tried lifting her arms, but they barely budged.

She forced enough air into her lungs so she could speak. “I won’t go back. I won’t.”

Plastic wrap crinkled right beside her. “Well, I don’t know where ‘back’ is, but if you’re angry with somebody at home, you just might change your mind when you realize how close you came to not surviving.”

She heard water being poured. Licking her dry lips, she commanded her eyes to open. They didn’t obey.

“Good thing for you that your body started responding positively. You gave us a scare for nearly twenty-four hours. Then your vitals improved, letting us know you would survive. That took place around this time yesterday.” A straw touched her lips. “Take a drink.”

Sipping the cool water, Hannah began to come out of that dark place. She pulled away from the straw, scrunched her eyes, and managed to lift her eyelids for a moment.

Standing over her was the doctor from the last clinic that wouldn’t hire her. Fragmented thoughts sprang to her mind, too disconnected to make sense.

The straw pressed against her lips again. She drew cool water into her mouth, feeling more clarity with each swallow. She tried shifting in the bed. Parts of her body were working now—her arms, shoulders, and legs. But with her torso feeling like dead weight and the soreness across her lower body, she couldn’t move. “You may not remember, but I’m Dr. Lehman. How are you feeling?”

Forcing the correct response, Hannah whispered, “Okay. The girl … at the clinic, how is she?”

“She made a complete recovery and went home yesterday. You, on the other hand, are still quite sick. You’re in ICU. You had what’s called a retained placenta. Our best guess is that when that boy kicked against you, the pool of internal blood broke loose from its clot. It was merciful timing to happen near the clinic, that’s for sure. The surgeon did what he could to repair your uterus. Until yesterday you were on a ventilator. You were given a ten-pack of platelets and a unit of fresh frozen plasma. Now that may not mean a whole lot to you, but trust me, you should read up on it and thank your lucky stars you survived.”

Embarrassed that an entire surgical team knew her secret, Hannah closed her eyes. She didn’t want to know what they’d done. The only question she wanted answered was how she would pay for this.

He cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ve covered all that a doctor is supposed to tell you. Now there are some things I need you to tell me. We’ll start with your name.”

“Hannah,” she answered, hoping he wouldn’t push for more information than necessary.

The man drew a deep breath. “That’s a start. On the application, you gave Lawson as your last name. Is that real or made up?”

Hannah shook her head without opening her eyes. “I’ve got money to cover part of the bill. I’ll pay the rest when I get a job.”

The doctor didn’t respond.

Hannah pried her eyes open. The doctor was perched on the edge of a chair next to her bed.

He ran his hands through his thick gray hair. “An older man named Gideon came looking for you the day you passed out. He says he’s been driving you around since Tuesday morning, but he knows nothing about you other than you pay in cash and you’re staying in a motel.” He shifted in his chair. “I know you’re Amish—otherwise, you wouldn’t know the language so well. You’re underage, or you would have put your date of birth on the application. Since you’re staying at a motel, you’re probably a runaway.”

Hannah winced as fear rose within her. He’d figured out a lot about her.

“I also know you’ve recently given birth to a baby, and you’re lucky to be alive, considering the amount of blood you lost when you began to hemorrhage.” He drew a breath.

Wooziness washed over her. She closed her eyes, drowning in the awareness that this wasn’t the life she’d expected to find. Loneliness. No safe harbor. A cheap motel. Constant fear of getting caught. And now this.

God, please
.

Uncertain what else to say, she ended her prayer at two words.

“The surgeon did what he could to repair your uterus. I think you’ll recover nicely, but due to the extensive damage …” He paused. “Hannah, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but it seems unlikely that you’ll ever conceive again.”

Panic choked her. “Unlikely?”

“The damage was quite severe. It’s highly unlikely, probably impossible, that you’ll ever have another child.”

The words rolled over her. She covered her face with her hands. Was her dead child truly the only one she’d ever have? As if a hidden part of her had just worked its way free, she realized she’d still been harboring hopes of a life with Paul. Somewhere inside, dreams of one day bearing his children were fading.

Something touched the backs of her hands, causing her to lower them. Through teary eyes she looked at the doctor.

“Here.” He shoved tissues into her hands, staring at her. “I’m sorry this happened to you, but you had to know you needed medical help long before you passed out.”

Accusation pointed an ugly finger at her. He was right—she’d known.

“Where’s the baby you gave birth to?”

She shook her head. Her life was none of this man’s business. And if he knew the truth, he’d try to send her home. She couldn’t go back. She just couldn’t.

He shifted. “I need to know that you haven’t abandoned your newborn somewhere. If you don’t convince me, I’ll call the police right now, and you can finish recuperating wherever they take you.”

The sternness reflected in his eyes matched his tone. There was no doubt he wanted answers. His motives for prying into her life were sound enough, but she couldn’t make herself answer him.

“Fine.” He stood.

Hannah tried to lean forward. “Okay.”

He turned to face her. “Where’s your baby?”

She wondered what the authorities would do with her after she explained what happened. “She died. We buried her.”

“How far along were you?”

Hating not knowing, Hannah closed her eyes and wished he’d just go away.

“When did you conceive?”

Hannah fidgeted with the sheets. “I don’t know how to figure that.”

“Were you sexually active?”

“No!” She stared at him. “How can you just blurt out such wrongdoing at someone?”

Dr. Lehman returned to the seat beside her bed. He sat in silence, as if waiting for her to volunteer information. “Hannah,”—his voice was barely audible—“when were you raped?”

She pursed her lips as tears worked their way free against her will. That day would linger with her forever. “August thirtieth.” A sob escaped her. “Paul asked me to marry him that morning.” She closed her eyes. “On my walk home a man in a car came up and …”

The doctor patted her hand. “Take a breath, Hannah. I understand enough. According to the surgeon, you gave birth less than a week ago. That means you had a miscarriage, Hannah. The child was not developed enough to survive—unless born in ideal circumstances—and even then it probably would have had serious complications if it had lived.” He passed her a few more tissues. “Where are your parents?”

She wiped her eyes. “When rumors started spreading, they thought I was lying about how I became pregnant. I couldn’t take any more.”

“So you are a runaway.”

“I turn eighteen soon.”

Dr. Lehman drummed his fingers against his thighs. “How soon?”

“March ninth.”

“You should have waited until then to leave home. You’re a minor, which means I have to inform social services. Besides, issues between parents and their children can almost always be worked out. Your folks may not have responded as they should have, but you were wrong to run off.”

She wanted to scream at him. He didn’t know what it was like to have an entire community set against you or to have your parents trick themselves into thinking you were the problem. If she had stayed, the People would have continued to ostracize her. Then her only choice would have been to work for Gram and live with her or with others close by who weren’t Old Order Amish. Then she would have been forced to endure her worst nightmare: having a front-row seat as Paul fell in love with someone else, got married, and had children.

She closed her eyes and covered her head with a pillow.

“I’ll contact the authorities, and someone from child services will be here in the next few days. In the meantime you’ll be staying here.”

She swallowed hard and waited to hear him leave the room.

The glass door made a swooshing sound as it slid open.

“I’m sorry, Hannah,” Dr. Lehman whispered.

She flung the pillow off her head, waves of anger replacing her misery. “You’re sorry? Then try being right instead of lawful. You can’t think it’s right to send me back home when I’m just days away from being an adult. My family despises me!” She gasped for air. “I’ll have to wear a scarlet letter for the rest of my life because of things that weren’t my choice.” She paused, realizing she was yelling at the man. She lowered her voice. “I’m begging you. Please don’t make that call.”

He studied her, and for a moment Hannah thought maybe he’d see this her way. But then he shook his head. “I can’t break the law, Hannah.” With that, he left the room.

The nurse at the station outside Hannah’s room stared at her before returning her attention to her desk. No wonder the Amish avoided contact with policemen and doctors. They followed the law, whether it held any wisdom for the individual or not.

If she had any strength, she’d find her clothes and get out of here. But whatever was wrong with her had left her weak.

Staring at the ceiling, she mourned the loss of something she’d never fully had: freedom.

If she had any chance of winning Paul’s heart again, she could endure going back. If she could bear him children, he might forget that she’d once carried a child concealed from him. But the news that she’d never be able to have another child slashed the last threads that might have bound her and Paul together.

Oh God, help me. I can’t go back. I just can’t
.