“Follow me.” He struck out along an impression of beaten-down grass.
Fighting his way along the base of the cliff, he held back brambles and bushes for her. The underbrush grew thicker and the silence more oppressive. Hannah wanted to turn and run for the truck. Reece seemed too smug. But Caitlin was somewhere back here, so she trudged on.
In the distance, she heard the roar of rapids, probably Sugar Creek. With the heavy storms the past few days, it would be in full flood stage. The roar of the water grew louder with every step until they arrived at a battered shack on the shores of the creek.
He unlocked the padlock on the door. “Step into my parlor,” he said.
“It’s a sugar shack.” She tried to peer in the window, but it was too dirty and fly-speckled.
He grabbed her arm. “Hurry up. We don’t have all day. The kid is inside.”
In a frenzy of movement, Hannah shoved open the door. An old rug had been thrown down on the floor, and inflatable furniture made it seem almost homey. A cot was on the far side of the space, and a little girl lay curled up on it with an afghan thrown over her. She appeared sound asleep. A chain dangled from one small ankle to the cot.
Hannah moved to the side of the bed. Her vision narrowed and her heart galloped. She looked at the child for the first time. Her child? The unruly auburn hair, the tiny hands fisted, the shape of the toenails and feet. Even the curve of her cheeks and the length of her lashes held an uncanny familiarity for her. She told herself not to let the lid off her hopes. “Is she ours, Reece?”
“Sure, hon.” Reece put his arm around her, and they stood looking at Caitlin. “I was wrong. I know that now. I want her too. It will be great now that the three of us are together.”
Hannah wanted to move away, but she didn’t dare. “All these lost years. Why did you give her to Matt?”
“I heard from Trudy about all the trouble his wife was having getting pregnant. It seemed right that someone should have her who would love her.” His tone suggested he’d done something heroic, something praiseworthy.
Hannah drank in the sight of her child. She wanted to touch the soft hair, kiss the round softness of Caitlin’s cheek, smell the little-girl scent. She wanted to pull the child onto her lap to experience her weight for the first time. She wanted to recapture every moment that had been stolen from her—the first tooth, the first word, the first stumbling step. Gone—it was all gone. Stolen. Destroyed. It would never come again.
She whirled and curled her fingers into fists. “How could you, Reece? How could you destroy our family like this?” Leaping at him, she tore at his eyes. Her hands grabbed fistfuls of hair. Kicking and pummeling, she wanted to inflict as much damage as she could. Nothing she did to him would ever be enough to pay him back for what he’d done to them all.
He grabbed her in a bear hug and wrestled her to the floor, where she lay pinned under him. Panting, she tried to wrench her arm free. “Let go of me,” she spat. Hatred black as tar and just as immobilizing filled her heart.
“I will, just as soon as you calm down.” Blood trickled from his mouth, and a red lump formed on his forehead. “You’ve turned into a little spitfire. You’re going to have to learn to obey me, Hannah. Just settle down. I knew you’d be upset once you saw her. She’s cute, isn’t she? Looks like you. Doesn’t seem to have anything of me in her at all.” His eyes narrowed. “Maybe she’s not even mine.”
“Oh please. You kept me shackled to the house. Who would I have had an affair with?” Strength seeped from her bones and into the cold stone beneath her. What was the use? He always won. He was bigger, stronger, smarter. She lay still and stared up at him.
With tears blurring his face in her vision, she could almost imagine he wasn’t the monster she thought he was. Maybe everything was her fault. If she’d been a better wife, with a gentler, more submissive spirit, their lives wouldn’t be in this mess. “What do you want from me, Reece? I gave you all I had, and you trampled it.”
He brushed his lips across hers. “I want you to be a good wife, Hannah. To put me first like you should. I want us to grow old together, to raise our little girl to be a good, obedient woman. Think you can do that?” He released her arms and lifted his weight from her but continued to loom over her body. His stare seemed to prod into her soul as he searched for the truth in her face.
She breathed in courage. She reached up her hands and cupped his cheeks in her palms. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” she whispered. “It was such a shock. All those wasted years . . .” Tears slid from the corners of her eyes and ran down to soak the hair at her temples. “We could have had this time with her and with each other, Reece. I would never put her first. I know it frightened you, but you always came first with me.”
The hard stare of his gaze softened. “Ah, Hannah, that’s all I ever wanted. For someone to love me and put me first. You don’t know what it was like to grow up knowing no one really cared.”
“I’m sorry, Reece. You never talked about it.”
“It hurt too much,” he admitted.
She put on a stern expression. “I am your wife. I’m here for you to share those things with me. Don’t keep anything from me again.”
“We’ll have lots of time together, the three of us.” His lips brushed hers again. Before she could react, he rolled off her and got up. He held out his hand to her and hoisted her to her feet. “I think our daughter is awake. But then, who wouldn’t be with the way you were yelling.” He wrapped a curl of her hair around his finger.
Hannah’s insides trembled, but she didn’t dare show how he terrified her. She smiled up at him until he released her hair. Then she let go of his hand and turned back to the cot. Caitlin sat with her small feet dangling over the edge of the mattress. Her eyes were round and fearful, and her lips trembled. She twisted her hands in her lap.
“Don’t be scared, honey,” Hannah said. She approached the bed and knelt in front of the little girl. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Caitlin touched Hannah’s hair. “You have hair like mine. I’ve never seen anyone with hair like mine. Daddy says it’s fairy hair.”
Hannah managed a smile. “Maybe he’s right. My name is Hannah.”
“I’m Caitlin Beitler. My daddy is a sheriff’s detective. He’ll be mad that bad man took me.” She pointed at Reece. “Can you take me home now?”
“Soon,” she whispered too softly for him to hear. She craned her neck to face Reece. “Take off the chain. Give me the key and I’ll let her go.”
He shrugged. “Just make sure she doesn’t bolt. I don’t want to have to hurt her.” He dug into his pocket and found a small key that he dangled in the air above her head. “Say please.”
“Please, Reece.” She made a grab for the key and missed. He laughed. Forcing a smile, she grabbed his forearm. “You’re such a tease. Hand it over.”
He grinned at her sweet tone and dropped the key into her hand. “Thanks!” She stabbed the key into the lock and had Caitlin free in moments. Lifting the child in her arms, she relished the weight of her, the smell of her even through the stink of wet mud. Caitlin’s long hair brushed against Hannah’s arms and mingled with her hair. It was hard to tell whose locks were whose. Caitlin looped her arms around Hannah’s neck, and the trust in the movement nearly buckled Hannah’s knees. She sank onto the cot and held the child close.
She would never let her go. Never. And she’d kill anyone who tried to take her.
TWENTY - FIVE
“A pure white quilt with excellent stitching is always prized. My mother was a master of the quilt, and she told me white was her way of imagining heaven. The Amish strive to lead pure and holy lives in order to reach God.”
—HANNAH SCHWARTZ,