Hannah sighed. “I’m more inclined to think Nora’s secret might be from long ago. You’ve known her a long time. My parents too.”
“That’s true. I met Abe before he was baptized Amish.” Irene stood. “I need to throw some clothes in the dryer.”
The initial welcome had worn off, but Hannah wasn’t quite sure why. She stood. “We’d better go anyway. I need to get to work on a quilt I’m trying to get finished. Could I take a quick look at the quilts?”
“They’re in the bedrooms. Help yourself.” Irene walked away quickly.
Hannah exchanged glances with Matt. “Do you know the way?” she asked.
“Sure.”
She followed him down the hall past other pictures from a lost era. She lingered a moment to look. There were so many of her father. She paused to look at one last picture. “Does Irene have any children? She looks pregnant in this picture.”
“No kids. Maybe she just gained some weight.”
Hannah didn’t argue with him, but Irene looked clearly pregnant. Hannah followed the sound of his voice and found him in the first bedroom. A beautiful quilt in royal blue and black lay on the bed. “It’s gorgeous. The colors will look great in the book. Any others in the closet?” She went to the closet door and shoved it aside. It held only clothing and boxes.
“The other spare room is across the hall. I’ll get the quilt out of there.” Matt stepped across the hall and pushed open the door.
He closed it behind him, but not before she caught a glimpse of a crib and a wall covered in pictures. He closed the door too quickly for her to see who was in the pictures. Maybe Irene didn’t like people in there.
When Matt came out carrying the quilt, she asked him about the room. “I thought you said she didn’t have kids.”
“She didn’t, but she was a foster mother to many,” he said. “She had this set up for when she took in babies.”
“Oh right, that makes sense.” The crib quilt looked a little like the one that had covered the bodies of her family. Same design but pink instead of black. Maybe Matt hadn’t noticed. It didn’t matter anyway. This must be a design her grandmother had taught her mother.
“Could I see the pictures? Maybe there are some of my mother.”
“There aren’t,” he said in a clipped voice. “And the master bedroom is here.”
Hannah followed him to the last large room. Austere with nothing on the walls and only plain wooden shades on the windows, it could have been a room in her parents’ home. The quilt on the bed made the room, though. Breathtaking. One of her grandmother’s masterpieces. The intricate Mariner’s Compass radiated in all directions in vivid colors. Another quilt, a pure white one with hummingbird stitches, was on a rack at the foot of the bed. It was equally gorgeous.
“I’ve never seen this one,” she said. “It looks like my mother’s work.”
“She wasn’t the only one to make hummingbird stitches,” Irene said from the doorway. She dumped a basket of towels on the bed, then disappeared through the door.
What was Irene’s problem? Hannah’s gaze caught on one last photo by the bed. A smaller one of the same pose with Irene and Hannah’s father. “I think she never got over my dad,” she said. “Maybe that’s why she never married.”
“Makes sense.” He took her arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
They went to the door just as Irene came back to the room.
“Come back and see me sometime,” Irene said in a voice that suggested the opposite. Matt left the Tumbling Blocks Quilt with Irene before they left.
Back outside, Hannah glanced at Matt. “She dated my dad. I’m shocked he was interested.”
“Why?”
“I always thought my parents had eyes only for each other.”
“Maybe they did once they met.”
“Maybe.” Something didn’t sit right with her, and she couldn’t figure it out. Was it jealousy that had broken up Irene’s friendship with Hannah’s mother? That could explain why her mother had always grown quiet when Irene’s name was mentioned. Shame at stealing away a man Irene loved, maybe? But why would Irene have bought Abe’s mother’s quilts?
Hannah couldn’t think of a thing to say on the drive back to the farm. The rain continued to come down in buckets. They slowed to pass a buggy, but she didn’t know the occupants, not even the half-drowned children peering out the back. Her gaze lingered on them, taking in their features, searching for auburn hair.
“You okay?” Matt asked.
“Sure. Just—just disappointed. I’d hoped to find out more today about the girl.” Her voice hoarsened on the last word. She’d never even held her, never kissed her downy head. Never said good-bye. “I wonder if there’s a grave back in Wabash.”
“For your daughter?”
“Yes, could you check?”
“Sure, I’ll make a call.” He cleared his throat. “Do you really think she is your daughter? Deep down?”
“I don’t know. I’ve tried not to get my hopes up, but I guess they rose anyway. She looks so much like me. If you could see pictures of me . . .” Being here had made her realize how much she missed her childhood, the community, the simple way of life.
“I bet you were a beautiful little girl with such bright hair.”
What if she went back to the Amish life? The thought hovered in her mind. The thought of being welcomed home made her eyes burn. For ten long years she’d moved like a tumbleweed blown from one town to the next, never staying very long, never believing she belonged. Always trying to stay one step ahead of Reece, yet knowing he would find her someday. She longed for the love of her community, the constancy of their love and commitment, their calm certainty about life.
“Your wheels are turning. What are you thinking about?” Matt asked.
“Going home.” He’d think she was crazy. Most of the world didn’t understand the peace of their faith, didn’t understand how putting the focus on God and others made life so much better, so much more meaningful.
“Back to Milwaukee?”
“No, home. My place with my family. Go back to my roots, my faith.”
“I can see the draw. Your cousin’s family is wonderful. So much love and commitment. It’s compelling. But I couldn’t give up my computer, TV, my car.”
“The car would be hard,” Hannah admitted.
“I don’t get it anyway. They pay people to drive them, so it’s not like they think cars are evil.”
“Cars can be a status symbol, and we believe in the common good and not putting one person above the other. And look at our modern world, how people run around with no time to sit and eat meals together as a family. Cars have been largely responsible for the splintering of the family. If an Amish man hires a car, it’s for a specific reason—often for a trip for his family or something equally important.”
“If you say so. But I’m not giving up my SUV.” Matt’s grin was cheeky.
“I’m probably not either. I’m just thinking out loud. Sometimes I wish I could go to sleep and wake up to find all that’s happened was only a dream.”
“Don’t we all? Life isn’t like that. Good and bad are part of the human existence.”
“You sound very philosophical.”
Matt’s grin widened. “I actually think about life now and then.”
Hannah’s cell phone rang. She grabbed her purse and looked at the caller ID and winced. Maggie Baker was her editor. The last thing she needed right now was more pressure, and she didn’t want to hear what Maggie might have to say. Whatever it was, it would likely entail more work. She called occasionally with a suggestion to include a certain chapter or to find out about this or that technique. Hannah didn’t want to deal with it, so she shut off her phone.
Angie came flying out the door when they pulled up to the house. She was on her cell phone and mouthed, “Maggie,” at her. It had done no good not to answer the phone. Hannah knew she would hate whatever Maggie was saying. Why had she ever agreed to hire a publicist? She thought of Angie as a close friend, but at times like this, she wished she answered to no one but herself.
“What’s wrong?” Matt asked.
“It’s my editor.”
“Is that bad?”