IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts
The murmur of voices in the other room settled, and Hannah heard the soft clink of spoon against cup. Maybe the bishop would go to the front door and not enter through the kitchen. He didn’t have to know she was here. While she’d always liked the man, she knew he would gently urge her to reconcile with God and come back to her Amish faith.
She saw the wide brim of his hat pass the kitchen window and head to the front door. Her hands shook as she took a sip of her sweet tea. The confrontation would come sooner or later, but she’d put it off as long as possible. She set her tea on the table as Angie came back from listening at the doorway.
“They’re calmer now,” she said. “Some guy showed up.”
“The bishop,” Hannah murmured. Her hands itched to work on her quilt. The activity always soothed her.
“He’s the head of the church?”
“This division, yes. Does my aunt know I’m here?”
Angie shook her head. “Sarah didn’t say a peep about it. I think she’s waiting for a better time to mention it.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“No.”
Angie glanced at the children. “Is the tea good?” They looked up at her with blank faces and went back to sipping their tea.
“They only know German until they go to school,” Hannah said. The cell phone inside Hannah’s purse rang. She grabbed it before it could disturb anyone in the other room. The number flashed across the front, but she didn’t recognize it. “Hello,” she said.
Reece’s gravelly voice sounded in her ear. “Hang on,” he said. “You can hear our little girl’s voice.”
Seconds later, a child’s voice called out, “You can’t catch me!” Hannah’s heart leaped at the childish voice. She gasped and pressed the phone tighter to her ear. The child laughed and chattered to someone, and the voice imprinted itself on her soul. Was this her child? Or a horrible joke?
Reece’s voice came back on the line. “Doesn’t she sound sweet, Hannah? She misses you. I miss you. We can be a real family, hon. It’s all up to you.”
She struggled to speak past the invisible band around her throat. “Leave me alone, Reece. You killed our baby.”
“She’s not dead, Hannah. You just heard her voice. Come home and you’ll see. I’ll give her back to you. We can put the past behind us, start fresh. Your running off nearly killed me. I need you. Your daughter needs you. I even converted to the Amish faith too. We can be everything you always wanted.”
“You’re lying.” She shuddered with the desire to get in the car and drive to where he was. To see if he really had the child. But it wasn’t possible. Her daughter was dead. She still didn’t know who the child was, but she knew Reece. He would never willingly care for a child. “Were you baptized?”
“Not yet, but soon. I’ll send you a picture. I joined a community in Shipshewana.”
“You don’t even know German!”
“It’s all in who you know. Some teenagers were harassing the bishop’s son, and I stopped to help. He’s been tutoring me in German and helping me learn all the rules. This can work, Hannah. I’ll even switch to your old district. Just come home.”
Reece the protector. He was always rushing in to help and then expected eternal gratitude. She hardened her heart to resist the plea in his voice. He had to be lying. He’d sworn he’d never become Amish. “How’d you get this number?” she asked.
“I still have friends,” he said.
And he did. His background in law enforcement was one reason she’d resisted getting a phone for so long. Then when the book hit big, she’d had no choice, but she had an unlisted number. That hadn’t slowed him down long. Saying nothing at all, she quietly closed her cell phone, then pressed the button to shut it off.
Aware that Angie and the children were staring at her, she managed a smile. “Anyone want a cookie?” Her aunt always kept cookies in the jar on top of the refrigerator. She didn’t wait for an answer, since the girls wouldn’t have understood, but reached up and pulled down the jar. The girls each accepted a cookie, and Hannah turned to pour them some milk. Once she set the glasses on the table, she moved to the sink to stare out the window.
Angie’s vanilla scent told her that her friend had moved closer. “Was that Reece?” she asked.
“Yes. He says he has our daughter. That he’s raising her Amish in a district in Shipshewana.”
“But she wasn’t dressed Amish.”
“I know.” Hannah glanced into Angie’s worried face. “He’d taped a little girl laughing and talking. He said it was our daughter. I think he’s toying with me, but I can’t get it out of my head, Angie. What if he’s not lying? What if this little girl really is my baby? Maybe he converted after the picture.” Hannah couldn’t let it go. Everything in her longed to hold that little girl, to smell her hair, to hug her close and kiss that soft, round cheek. Maybe she was losing her mind. Life with Reece might have driven her over the edge.
Angie sighed. “Find her, then. I bet she’s here somewhere. Reece doesn’t have her. He probably saw this girl and realized she looked a lot like you. He’s playing games, trying to get you back. He couldn’t have had her all this time. You said he wanted nothing to do with fatherhood.”
“I know. He told me to come home if I wanted to see her.” Hannah inhaled as a thought struck her. “You don’t think he’s already taken her from her home, do you? What if he kidnapped her? I can’t let her fall into his hands!”
Angie grabbed her forearm. “Think, Hannah. He’s not going to risk jail. He’s just trying to lure you home.”
Hannah’s panic calmed as she recalled that the girl’s voice had mingled with other children’s. “You’re right—I know you’re right.” Shuddering, she leaned against the counter. “I thought this was all behind me.”
“It will be if you let it.”
Hannah glanced at her then. “Could you just walk away, Angie? Look that little girl in the face and walk away without knowing?”
Her friend hesitated, then sighed. “Probably not. But there’s no way I’d go back to the guy who beat me.”
“I’m not going to.” But would she? If Reece had her daughter, she would have no choice but to go back long enough to grab the little girl and flee. “Maybe I’ll go talk to the sheriff. He might know something about the child.”
A woman’s voice Hannah recognized as her aunt’s raised in a sharp protest, though she couldn’t make out any words. Angie exchanged a long glance with her. “I wonder if Sarah told her I’m here,” Hannah said.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden floor, then her aunt burst through the doorway, followed by Sarah. Tears marked Aunt Nora’s eyes with puffiness, and she swiped a hand at her wet cheeks but only succeeded in smearing dirt on them. Her bonnet was askew, but her dark blue dress and white apron were neat and pressed. She had to be fifty now, but she looked older.
Hannah took a step toward her, arms open. Aunt Nora rushed into them. She hugged Hannah with a desperate grip, and a keening cry burst from her lips.
“I know,” Hannah whispered, rocking the older woman a little. “I know.” Tears rolled down her cheeks too.
How well she remembered the grief, anguish, and disbelief. The emotions had never left her. The horror of that night colored everything she’d done since. Every time she thought of the monster who’d destroyed her baby, her anger and hatred grew. If she was right and it was Reece who had killed her parents too, she’d spit in his face, rake at his eyes with her nails. No punishment would be great enough for all he’d done.