Being with her was like peeking into a different world—a place where he might actually find love again. But it couldn’t happen, not now. He’d never give up his daughter, and Hannah would never forgive his lies.
The rest of the household stirred overhead. Floorboards creaked and a door scraped open. The steps groaned under someone’s weight, then Hannah stepped into view. Dressed in a denim skirt and yellow blouse, she looked as bright as a daffodil.
“Sounds like your family is up,” he said.
“I’d love to make pancakes for them this morning before we go to Aunt Nora’s funeral, but they won’t accept any favors from me.” She wasn’t looking at him.
He knew he should shove his feet into his shoes and get the heck out of Dodge, but instead he stepped closer to her. “Hey, I’m a mean wielder of the spatula. How about you mix it up before they get down and I’ll do the cooking. They won’t say a word.”
Her smile turned hopeful. “You cook?”
“You question my culinary ability?”
“Of course not. I know you can do anything.” She smiled, and a steady faith burned in her eyes.
She made him believe he was Superman. How did she do that? He followed her to the kitchen and made coffee while she put on an apron and assembled her ingredients.
“I wish they’d let me make them a shoofly pie.”
“Hey, you can make me one.” He grinned and pulled up a chair. Hannah began to mix the ingredients in a large yellow glass bowl. His grandmother had an old bowl like that. “I like your family. I used to think the Amish were just a strange sect, almost a cult or something. But they’re good, honest Christians. The peace here in their home is almost enough to make me give up my SUV.”
She smiled and cracked an egg into the batter. “It’s good to be back.” She wiped her hands on her apron, then untied it. “Your turn.” She had him stand up and swathed him in the dark blue apron.
“Do I have to wear this?”
“You look more official.”
She was standing close enough when he turned around that he would only have to bend over slightly to kiss her. Her golden eyes captivated him. The expression in them was as soft as the color. He was too weak to resist even though he knew the pain was coming. He cupped her face in his palm. “What are we going to do about us?”
“Is there an us, Matt?”
“I love to hear you say my name. Say it again.”
“Matt,” she whispered. “Don’t hurt me.”
“I wouldn’t.” He wanted to kiss her, but he heard the steps creaking. With reluctance, he turned to the stove and began beating the batter. Stupid, stupid. There was no way to fix this. For a second he allowed himself to dream of what life might be like if the truth were out in the open and she forgave him anyway. It couldn’t be, though. No mother would forgive what he had done. And there was still her tie to Reece to contend with.
She put her hand over his as he whipped the batter. “Not too much,” she whispered. “It won’t rise.” She retreated to a chair at the table. “Good morning,” she told her cousin.
Luca nodded. “Gut morning.” He sniffed as the batter touched the hot oil in the skillet. “Pancakes?”
“Yep,” Matt said. He kept a close eye on the edges of the batter.
Luca went to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. “I am hungry. The family will be down soon. It is kind of you to feed us all on such a busy morning.”
“Your cupboard provided the ingredients. I’m just doing the cooking.”
“Gut coffee. You made it?”
“Sure did.” He wondered what Luca would do if he said that Hannah had made it. Or if he said that she’d mixed up the batter for him. Would he refuse to eat the pancakes? Spit out the coffee? He cooked three pancakes and flipped them onto a plate for Luca.
Feet pounded down the steps, and Sarah burst into the kitchen. She jabbered something in German that made both Luca and Hannah leap for the door. “What’s wrong?” Matt asked, running after them. But when he reached the door, he needed no translation. “The barn’s on fire!” He grabbed his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.
By the time he jammed his phone back onto his belt, Luca was dragging a hose toward the barn. Flames were beginning to shoot through the roof.
“The horses!” Splashing through puddles left by last night’s rain, Hannah ran toward the barn.
Matt sprang after her. “Hannah, no!” But she paid him no attention. Shoving open the door, she disappeared into the black smoke billowing from the opening. The air from the open door fueled the fire, and the flames shot higher through the roof as if straining to torch a few lazy clouds passing by.
Luca sprayed the water onto the barn, but the flames just danced higher. Matt reached the billowing smoke, and the harsh heat struck his lungs. He coughed and plunged into the darkness of the superheated barn. “Hannah!” he shouted, still coughing. It was like an image of hell. Flames and smoke billowed around him, the fire eating up the dry tinder of the old barn. Horses screamed, and he leaped in the direction of the sound.
He burst through what seemed to be a wall of flames into an area the fire hadn’t reached. Hannah hadn’t noticed him. She fought to control an appaloosa who reared in terror. Two other horses bucked and snorted in the pen behind her. He ran to the other horses and entered the pen. Grabbing their halters, he led them out.
“Hannah, this way!” he screamed over the roar of the flames. On the wall behind him he saw something that made him gasp in more smoke. A broken cross had been painted on the wall in red paint above her head. Had she seen it?
She turned toward him. Dragging the horse with her, she started in his direction. He plunged through the way he’d come. Sprinkles of water dotted his face, and he blessed Luca for continuing to focus the water toward where it was most needed. It was all he could do to keep hold of the horses. They bucked and whinnied, but he dragged them toward the barn door, past the fire devouring everything in its path.
Then he was out. He released the horses and turned to go back to help Hannah, but she was behind him. Her clothes were blackened, and so was her face. A flicker of flame caught his attention. “Your skirt is on fire!” He leaped at her and bored her to the ground. She thrashed and fought him. “Lay still.” He scooped dirt onto her, then batted at the flames with his bare hands. He considered tearing her skirt from her, but one last roll and the flames were gone. Her skirt was seriously mangled, but she was alive.
He helped her up. They probably both smelled of soot. “Are you okay?” he whispered. He cupped her face in his hands. Even streaks of soot couldn’t mar her beauty. He’d almost lost her. He kissed her, and she showed no signs of wanting to pull away.
“Your poor hands.” She lifted one to her lips and kissed it.
“It doesn’t hurt.” He looked down at the torn and burned flesh. It would hurt like the dickens when the adrenaline wore off.
With his arm around her, they stood and watched the roof crash in. Luca had given up the fight with the hose now that they and the horses had reached safety. By the time the volunteer fire department arrived, the barn was nothing more than a smoldering pile of rubble.
They walked back toward the house and let the firemen do their job of extinguishing the embers. Luca and Sarah followed with the girls and Angie. No one had much to say. Such a traumatic event had left them drained. And it was no accident. They had to be told.
Matt reached the front door and opened it. “Could you send the children inside for a minute?”
Luca shot him a quick glance, then gave the girls a short order in German. They scampered past Matt into the house. He shut the door behind them. Sarah stepped closer to Luca as if for courage.
“I don’t think this was an accident,” Matt said.
Hannah put her hand to her mouth. “You saw the symbol?” She shuddered and clutched her arms around herself.
“Yep. On the wall.”
“What symbol?” Luca asked. “I saw nothing.”