A Time to Heal

16



I'm sure she'll be okay."

Jenny glanced at Chris as they entered the hospital. "She's got to be okay."

Chris looked at her, then away, unable to stand the hope he saw in her eyes. "You didn't see how much blood she lost," he blurted out.

And wished he could yank the words back when she paled.

"Look, there's Matthew!"

Amish or not, the other man would probably kill him.When Chris slowed his steps, Jenny slipped her arm through his and propelled him forward.

"How is she?" Jenny asked.

"They've got her in surgery. She's lost a lot of blood." He ran his hands through his hair and then turned to Chris. "I don't understand. What happened? Did someone try to rob the two of you?"

"I—"

"There you are!" Phoebe cried as she rushed toward them.Then, just as she got a foot away, her face went white and she stopped and fought for breath.

Chris reached her first and helped her sit down in a chair."I'll get someone—"

She clutched his arm. "No, I'm all right. I'm all right," she repeated as Jenny hovered over her. "I just rushed too much, that's all. It was a shock hearing what happened."

Her eyes met Chris's and silently begged him not to say anything. He hesitated. Keeping secrets had only resulted in tragedy for him. They wouldn't be here in the hospital with Hannah lying wounded if he'd told everyone about himself.

He stayed silent. But if she showed another sign that she didn't feel well, he'd speak up and speak up loudly. He'd carry her into an exam room himself and that would be that.

"You're sure? Maybe I should get you some water."

"Later. I want to know about Hannah."

"Chris? What happened?"

He dragged his gaze from Phoebe and faced Hannah's brother.

"We weren't being robbed. The barn fire, the poisoned food Daisy ate, the missing book—I figured out it's a man who has a grudge against me and followed me here. As soon as I realized it, I tried to leave."

Matthew's fists clenched at his sides. "You brought him here?"

Jenny grabbed his arm. "Matthew, think. He wouldn't do that deliberately."

"The last time I checked, he was still in prison. I don't understand what happened."

"Probably won an appeal or got out early for good behavior," Jenny said absently.

She looked up when she realized she'd spoken aloud and the others were staring at her.

"Things like this happen all the time. How could you know that he'd been released? You've been here, helping us with the harvesting."

"I haven't done anything to help," he said bitterly. "I've just caused someone else to be hurt. I wish I'd never come. I don't know how any of you can even stand to be in the same room with me."

He turned on his heel and walked out.

He walked right into a police officer, the same one who'd interviewed him at the scene of the shooting.

"How's Ms. Bontrager doing?"

"We don't know anything yet."

The policewoman nodded. "I could use a cup of coffee. How about you?"

"If you've come to ask me more questions, you don't need to sugarcoat it with a polite cup of coffee."

She raised her brows and merely looked at him. "I don't sugarcoat anything. I could just stand to have a cup of coffee and get off my feet for a few minutes while I talk to you and confirm a few things. I'm on the long side of a twelve-hour shift."

He sighed and turned to go into the building. "Sorry."

"I understand. You've had a tough day." She walked beside him to the elevator. "Stay positive. I've seen people pull through worse. Maybe you have too."

"Yeah."

He glanced at her and then away. Although she appeared to be only a few years older than him, Officer K. Lang carried herself with a subtle authority.

They got their coffee and went to sit in a booth away from other diners.

She picked up a packet of Sweet N Low from a ceramic container of artificial sweeteners and, smiling slightly, pushed another with sugar packets toward him. Taking out a small notebook, she flipped it open and scanned a page.

"Kraft's saying Ms. Bontrager got in the way when he tried to defend himself against your attack."

"What?" Chris shot to his feet, bumping the table and almost knocking over his coffee.

The officer reached over and steadied the cup, then looked at him. "Have a seat. I had to tell you what he said."

"You can't believe him."

"Of course not," she said calmly, lifting her own cup and blowing on the surface to cool it before she took a sip. "I looked both of you up."

Chris sat again and stared at his coffee. Here it comes, he thought, feeling that old wariness come over him. A lot of police officers were former military. Many of them believed that you didn't air dirty laundry.

"He says he came here to forgive you."

Chris nearly blew out a mouthful of coffee. "You're kidding?"

"No. But you didn't expect him to say he came here to hurt you, did you?" she asked as she continued to review her notes."I'm looking into a few things, seeing if there are additional charges we can pin on Kraft."

She looked up. "I understand there's been a suspicious fire with serious injuries at the Bontrager property and a poisoned horse at a neighboring property. A check of the tourist accommodations in the area revealed that Kraft's been in the area since two days before the barn caught fire. I'd say that's interesting timing. Fire marshal's pulling his report and faxing it over."

"Put him away for a long, long time," Chris said bitterly. "I don't know how he got out so soon, but he can't get out and hurt someone again."

"The attempted murder charge against him would have been enough to lock him away for a while, but the other charges'll mean additional time, especially since someone sustained an injury connected to the barn fire. I don't think you'll have to worry about him for quite some time."

"I didn't think I'd have to before and look what happened."

The officer nodded. "I hear you. We make arrests in the morning and they're on the streets before we get off our shift sometimes."

She flipped her notebook shut and tucked it into a pocket on her shirt. "You know," she said, giving him a direct look, "I figure all you can do is what you think is the right thing every day and hope for the best. That's all."

She nodded when his eyes searched hers. "I did a tour in the Middle East myself. I know about what happens when someone dares to speak up."

Draining the last of her coffee, she stood. "Well, that's it.Let's go upstairs and see if the family knows anything yet."

Pain.

There was so much pain. It was overwhelming—as if her arm had exploded and the side of her stomach was on fire.

But pain meant she was still alive, praise God.

Hannah felt sheets with her hands and something lumpy on one side of her body. And she couldn't move the arm that hurt. It felt like it was strapped to something hard and when she tried to move it, even a little, the effort nearly made her pass out again.

The air smelled antiseptic, too, and something beeped.Hospital! She slowly remembered she'd been shot. She must be in the hospital now.

But dear God, how could one survive this kind of pain?

Hannah moaned and tried to open her eyes. Voices came to her, familiar voices.

"I can't, Jenny!"

Chris? Was that his voice? Was that really Chris? That awful man hadn't hurt him?

"Come on," Jenny said. "People can hear even when they're unconscious. Hannah needs to hear that you're all right. You don't know what I had to do to talk the head nurse into letting you see Hannah."

Hannah wanted to tell them that she could hear them. She could hear them too well. Her head hurt almost as much as her arm and her side. That didn't make sense. She remembered being shot, remembered falling. Maybe she hit it on the road when she fell. She couldn't remember—couldn't think.

"It's not important that I'm all right," Chris said. "It's only important that she is."

"You can help her by talking to her. Now sit and talk to her.I got you five minutes and that's it."

"I shouldn't take away from the time you and Matthew get—"

"I want to see if I can get him to eat something in the cafeteria."

Someone took her hand and it was a big, warm, rough hand.

"Hannah? Can you hear me?"

Chris!

She tried to tell him she could hear him, but she was so tired only a whisper came out.

"What? Sweetheart, please, wake up. I want to tell you that I'm sorry. I want you to yell at me. Anything. Just wake up."

Sweetheart? He'd called her sweetheart? And why was he sorry? He hadn't done anything.

"Tell me you forgive me."

She managed to get her eyes open and stared up into his face, his dear, dear face. "You—you didn't do anything wrong."

The effort to speak took everything out of her, and she fell asleep again.

When she awoke later, Jenny and Phoebe were standing beside her bed, smiling.

They exchanged glances and then both of them gave her a hug, careful not to jar her.

"We heard you woke up," Jenny told her as she pulled up chairs for Phoebe and herself. "We're not allowed to stay long."

Hannah glanced around, then toward the door.

Jenny laughed. "I think she's hoping Chris is here," she told Phoebe.

"He hasn't left?" Hannah tried to sound casual.

"No, he's helping Matthew."

"He was leaving that day."

"I know. He thought if he did that he could keep Kraft from hurting anyone else."

Hannah shifted, trying to get comfortable— the movement took her breath away. She bit her lip, trying to keep from crying out and she tasted blood.

"I'll get the nurse," Phoebe said and quickly left the room.

"C'mon, use the pump," Jenny advised, curling Hannah's fingers around it. "Breathe through it. You can do it."

When the pain subsided, Hannah opened her eyes and realized tears had streaked down her cheeks.

"How—how did you get through it?" she asked, her voice shaky.

Jenny stroked her hair back. "It'll get better. I promise." She stared at Hannah intensely. "You're a lucky girl."

"I don't feel so lucky."

The nurse came in, checked the pump, and nodded. "You need anything else?"

Hannah shook her head. "Danki. I mean, thank you."

The woman smiled. "I knew what you meant."

She turned to Jenny. "Got some experience in using one of these, eh?"

"I sure do."

"Used to watch you on the news," she told Jenny. "Glad you're doing well now." With that, she left the room.

Phoebe came in and took her seat again.

"You're lucky because you survived despite losing a lot of blood. The fact that Chris knew what to do about the nicked artery in your arm and that he kept his head probably saved your life. The bullet just grazed your side and didn't hit any vital organs."

"But—" Hannah hesitated and then took a deep breath."What about having babies? What if the bullet hit—Jenny, what if I can't have babies?"

Jenny squeezed her hand. "I know, you're worried because you have a lot of pain in your side. But the surgeon said he doesn't feel there's any reason why you won't have children.The bullet didn't hit your reproductive organs."

She stopped for a moment, then went on. "He wouldn't lie, Hannah. They tell you if it's doubtful."

Now it was Hannah's turn to squeeze Jenny's hand. Each month that Jenny didn't conceive she felt sad for days. The doctors hadn't been encouraging with her because the injuries from the bombing had been so severe.

But somehow, despite the monthly disappointments, Hannah knew that her brother remained steadfast and believed that if it was God's will then he and Jenny would have more kinner.

"Let's just get you well and back home."

Phoebe nodded. "It's too quiet there without you. You bring life to the haus."

"You're so sweet. Speaking of quiet, you're not saying much today," Hannah told her.

"I'm just a little tired."

"You need to go home and get some rest."

"I agree," Jenny said, getting to her feet. "And we need to let you get some rest too." She leaned down to kiss Hannah's cheek. "Matthew will be by after supper to see you. Maybe he'll bring—" she stopped, looked at Phoebe.

"Jenny, if you don't mind I'd like to talk to Hannah for just a minute."

"Sure. I'll be downstairs in the lobby."

Phoebe pulled over a chair and sat down beside the bed."No one's saying it, so I guess I'll have to."

Hannah looked away from the sympathy in Phoebe's eyes."He's gone, isn't he?"

"No, he hasn't left. Not yet."

"Then—" she stopped. "I'm not going to ask why he's not coming to see me. I told myself that I wouldn't ask."

"But you don't understand, do you?"

Hannah's eyes filled with tears. "I thought he cared for me."

Phoebe patted her hand. "Oh, dear one, he does. He does.I'm sure of it. But he blames himself for what happened."

"But he didn't do it!"

"He came looking for you that day. He was leaving because he wanted the man to follow him, to take him away from here.He was afraid you'd be hurt. Then exactly what he feared happened."

"But he didn't do it!" Hannah repeated. "It isn't his fault I got hurt."

Sighing, Phoebe nodded. "But he blames himself. I think you have to be prepared for him to stay away." She smiled. "So I guess you know what you need to do, don't you?"

"Get better and get out of here," Hannah said slowly. "And then I want to go see Christopher Matlock. I have a few things to say to him."

"Gut," said Phoebe and she smiled.

Hannah lay against her pillows, closed her eyes, and let exhaustion overtake her. It seemed no matter how much she slept, she needed more. She was beginning to despair that she'd ever go home.

The air in the jail felt cold and dank and, if she were fanciful, smelled of despair.

Hannah was glad she'd never done anything to land herself here. A jail officer sent her through the security checkpoint and then made her take off her sling to check that she wasn't carrying weapons.

"Hey, Bill, she's okay," another officer called over. "She's a victim. It was in the news last week, remember?"

"She could be here to hurt him," Bill said, not impressed.The other officer rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. When's the last time you heard of an Amish person who did something criminal?"

"Never make assumptions. There's always a first time." The officer showed no expression as he glanced up at Hannah. "No offense, ma'am."

"None taken," she said, awkwardly sliding the sling over her arm again.

"The D.A.'s gonna have a cow," she heard one of the officers say as she walked away.

"Why's that?"

"You remember . . . it's that forgiveness thing they do."

Malcolm Kraft waited behind a glass window, one of a long line of them. People who had been arrested sat on one side and visitors sat on the other.

He looked different than the last time she'd seen him. He'd been so consumed with anger at Chris—and mad at her for interfering. The ball cap and sunglasses had obscured much of his face and his eyes, but there had been no hiding the deadly intent of the man—especially when she saw the gun in his hands.

She'd been afraid of him then. Maybe not enough, she thought now, as her arm ached and she cradled it against her in an effort to get comfortable.

Now, he sat with his shoulders slumped and his face took on a pained look when he saw her. With some reluctance, he picked up the telephone as she sat and lifted the one on her side to her ear.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone unfriendly.

"Thank you for seeing me."

He sighed and wouldn't meet her eyes. "I almost didn't.They told me it was you again and not—" he stopped.

"Your wife?"

His eyes finally met hers and she saw defeat. "I don't blame her for not wanting to have anything to do with me. I don't deserve her or my son after what I did."

A shaft of pain lanced through Hannah's heart as she thought about his little boy.

"Look, I'm really sorry for what happened. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"But you brought a gun to hurt Chris."

He nodded.

"Why were you not in prison? The article I read said you were in prison."

"My lawyer got the verdict overturned." When he saw her frown, he explained, "They decided I wasn't guilty."

"But you are."

He glanced around, then leaned forward. "You trying to get me to say I did it? Well, I won't. I'm not giving anyone a chance to prosecute me for that again."

"That's not my intention," she assured him. "But it seems like you got a second chance," she said slowly.

He shrugged. "Yeah. I guess. So why are you here?"

Reaching into her purse, she withdrew the article she'd printed that day at the library. She folded it so that the photo of his little boy, Jamie, was the only thing that showed, and she held it up so he could see it.

His face crumpled and he began crying. "Why are you doing this? "

"I don't want to hurt you, Mr. Kraft. I want to know why you were so angry with Chris that you forgot this little boy who needs you."

He raised his eyes and wiped away tears with his knuckles."Like my wife is ever gonna to let me near him again." He stood. "I'm sorry for hurting you, but if you don't mind, I'm going back to my cell now."

"Mr. Kraft! Don't hang up!"

When she saw him stop, she took a deep breath.

"If you got another chance—"

"A third chance? Yeah. Right!" He started to hang up the phone again.

"What would you do with it?"

"People don't get those."

She nodded. "Maybe some people don't. Would you be able to remember what's important this time and do the right thing?"

He must have sensed that she was serious because he sank into his chair. "What are you talking about?"

Hannah shifted in her chair. Her arm throbbed. Maybe Jenny was right. She'd said it was too soon to be out doing this, but when Hannah insisted, she'd driven her there in the buggy.

"I forgive you for hurting me," she said quietly. When he went still, she nodded.

"People don't do that. You got hurt because of me. Why would you do that?"

"Because if I don't forgive you, how can I ever expect God to forgive me?"

"Like you ever do something you need to be forgiven for!" he said, his laughter disbelieving.

If he only knew . . . Hannah had been guilty of discontent, of feeling unhappy with her life. Maybe that wasn't on the same level as what he'd done, but that was beside the point.

"It doesn't matter," she told him. "We don't believe in judging."

"You're saying you can sit there hurting because of something I did and you can forgive me?"

"Yes," she said simply. "I already have."

"Mr. Benton?"

The assistant district attorney looked up at Hannah, ran his hands through his thinning hair, and gave her a baleful look.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, I'm—"

"I know who you are," he said, standing. He waved at the chair before his desk. "And I know why you're here."

"Really?"

He sighed heavily. "Yeah. I hear things. And going by my past experience with the Amish, you're here to tell me you don't want me to prosecute Kraft."

Hannah nodded.

The assistant district attorney sighed again, shuffled the papers on his desk to find a file, and pulled it out.

"Ma'am, this man set fire to your brother's barn, which injured one of his workers; poisoned the horse belonging to the elderly woman you live with; and shot you, seriously injuring you."

"Yes, I know that," Hannah said calmly. "But I don't want to press charges. I understand I have that right."

"You do, but I can also prosecute a crime that others witnessed, even without your permission."

Chris. He'd witnessed her getting shot. Hannah sighed inwardly. She didn't think she had a chance of convincing him not to prosecute Kraft after all he'd been through with him.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the man continued. "But I'm not willing to let someone like that waltz out of jail and do more harm to our community. It's been my experience that the Amish have been reluctant to prosecute for religious reasons. Attempted murder's a much bigger deal than vandalism or petty theft."

"But I don't want to press charges," she said again.

"It's one thing for your brother to refuse to prosecute Kraft for setting fire to the barn, but I don't understand why you and Eli Yoder won't go after him for injuring both of you— especially you."

He got up and walked to the coffeemaker on a side table."Can I get you some?"

"No, thank you."

He seated himself again, took a sip of the coffee, and made a face that indicated it tasted bitter.

"Is this man intimidating you? Has he contacted you to talk you out of pressing charges?"

"No."

She watched the man rub his temples as if he had a headache. It wasn't her intention to stress him, but this was important. She didn't intend on changing her mind. She wasn't about to see Kraft get locked away again when there might be a chance for him to salvage his life.

He tapped his pen against the file that sat on the desk before him and tried to look stern. It didn't work, in Hannah's opinion.

"I have a report in here from the doctor who operated on you. He said your injuries were life-threatening, that your blood loss led to shock and heart arrhythmia."

"I know all that. The doctor told me."

"Then how can you think Kraft shouldn't pay for doing what he did to you?"

She sat up straighter. "I'm not against prosecuting Mr. Kraft because I'm not aware of what he's done here, but there has to be an alternative to incarceration, some middle ground we can reach."

"You're asking me to—"

"I looked into it, and there are some programs where he can get probation and counseling. And if he violates any of the conditions of the probation, he suffers the consequences."

They stared at each other for a long time.

Finally, the man sighed and shook his head. He reached for a folder and pulled out some forms. "Okay, this is what I'm willing to do."

If he stayed here a hundred years, Chris didn't think he'd ever understand the Amish.

"You have to talk to Hannah!"

Matthew looked up from forking hay into a barn stall."Why?"

"I just heard that she's not pressing charges against Kraft."

"It's not our way."

"But he shot her!"

"I'm well aware of that."

Chris paced. "She could have died."

Matthew winced. "I'm well aware of that too."

"I thought she'd bleed to death before I could get help for her." He felt sick at the thought and sank down onto a hay bale.

His glance went to the loft. Everything had changed from the time he'd climbed up there, fallen asleep, and awakened to find Hannah's wide eyes staring at him. She'd been shocked to find him there, and the surprise had caused her to lose her footing.

He remembered how it had felt to see her fall, to grab at her and feel her hand slip in his before he could grasp both of hers and lift her up. It had taken quite a while for his heartbeat to steady after he hauled her over the edge of the loft and made sure she was okay.

He hadn't been the same since.

This Plain woman, so different from any woman he'd ever met, had intrigued, puzzled, and annoyed him beyond measure. He'd been in a state of anxiety the whole week she recuperated in the hospital and only when he saw her being brought home—pale, her arm in a sling—had he begun to relax.

And now she wanted to let out the man who had hurt her, almost caused her to lose her life?

Matthew laid his hand on his shoulder. "I know it's hard for outsiders to understand. But in my opinion, it's probably the central, most important tenet to our beliefs. It doesn't mean we forget what's been done to us. But we remember that we don't have to understand God, just to trust Him and have faith in Him."

"I always wonder why God lets bad things happen to good people. Why would God let somebody hurt someone as good as Hannah?"

"Maybe because God Himself doesn't judge someone as bad—so why should we? I don't really know why. But I know that she truly can't be hurt by anything that happens to her."

"If that's true, how come she's got her arm in a sling?"

He heard the bitterness in his voice and got to his feet. "I'm sorry. I'm just angry that this happened."

"Angry at yourself or angry at God?"

Startled, Chris stared at him. "A little of both, I guess."

"I don't see how you could have prevented what happened.God allows for free will—for people to do things even when He probably wishes they didn't. And can you blame God when we don't understand why He allows things? He has His reasons and our job isn't to question Him."

Chris paced the barn again. "I tried to get her to leave, but she came back. She came back and put her buggy right in front of Kraft."

Matthew folded his arms across his chest and studied Chris. "I didn't hear all this before. I thought she just got in the way."

"Oh no," Chris said, spinning to glare at Matthew. "That crazy sister of yours decided she'd stop him from hurting me."

"She must love you even more than I thought," Matthew murmured, looking thoughtful. "Jenny said so, but I didn't believe her. Don't know why," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and giving Chris a sheepish grin. "She's always right."

Then his grin faded. "So now you have a lot of forgiving to do, eh? Kraft. Hannah. God. And yourself."

Chris slid his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Yeah."

"You could talk to the bishop, you know. He helped me a lot when I felt angry at God."

"You were?"

"Isn't everyone at some point in his life? I experienced such anger when Amelia suffered such a terrible illness, enraged that He took her home to be with Him when we loved and needed her. I shouldn't have been left by myself to raise our kinner. They shouldn't have lost their precious Mamm. Ya, I was angry. It took a long, long time and a lot of talking to the bishop to get over that."

Chris thought about how he'd been so angry with God when he watched buddies get hurt and sometimes die during his tour. He'd been angry and hurt when his superiors and the men he served with didn't back him up to see that Kraft got prosecuted. All of that was bad enough.

Then, with a week to go before he got out, he'd been hit with a roadside bomb. Now he figured any woman would run screaming if she saw the scars on his body in the daylight.

Joshua ran into the barn. "Daedi! Aenti Hannah needs help—"

Chris felt his heart jump into his throat. "What's wrong? Has he come back?"

"What . . . who?"

"The man who shot her." His voice rose. "Has he come back?"

"Nee." Joshua looked from Chris to his father and then back at Chris. "There's no man. She just wants Daedi to come over and help move something."

He turned to his father. "Hannah says Phoebe's going to do it if you don't get there quick!"

Matthew thrust the hay hook at Chris and hurried out of the barn, muttering about some women taking on more than they should.

Chris's heart settled back down where it should be. He finished Matthew's task, then fed the horses. Joshua followed behind him, giving the horses fresh water to drink.

"You need to go see her."

"She doesn't want to see me."

Chris avoided Jenny's eyes and wondered how he'd allowed himself to be trapped into talking to Jenny. When she'd asked him to help her carry the refreshment tray back to the house, he'd been suspicious but didn't know how to refuse.

Then, when they reached the porch, she indicated that he should sit in a chair, then drew another chair over and sat beside him.

"She does."

Chris drained the glass of iced tea and set it down on the table beside him on. "She can't possibly want me to visit her after I was responsible for her getting hurt."

"That was Kraft's fault, not yours. I know you care for her— I saw that. And she cares for you too."

His heart leaped at the thought, but just as quickly he tamped down his feelings and shook his head. "It doesn't matter.How could that work with our differences?"

"Which differences would those be?"

He stared at her as if she'd grown three eyes. "Religious, cultural."

Her gaze went to the fields, and he looked in the direction she did and saw Matthew.

"It's worked well for us," she said slowly, and she looked at him again. "I'm not saying it hasn't been hard adjusting sometimes even though my grandmother was Amish and I visited during some summers."

She smiled and set her glass on the tray. "Matthew was the boy next door I had a crush on and never forgot."

He watched her absently rub at a faded scar on her hand.It no longer felt strange to see this woman he'd seen at the veteran's hospital wearing Plain clothing, doing chores around the farm, and stealing time to write while the children—her children now—were at school.

"Not everyone was accepting of our getting married," she told him with a smile.

They looked at each other and at the same time said, "Josiah."

She laughed. "Yes. Apparently you and I are in a unique society for his . . . mistrust. But he's grown to accept me even if he doesn't approve of me. It'll take time for him to accept you."

"You act like I'm staying."

Getting to her feet, she reached down and patted his cheek."Yes, because even though you're a man, I think you're smarter than that."

"Hey!"

She stopped at the door and turned around. "Look, I shouldn't have teased you. It's scary loving someone. But do you really want to walk away from Hannah without even trying to see if it'll work?"

She didn't wait for him to answer.

Good thing, he thought, because he didn't know what to say.

Hannah sat with her quilting circle, trying to stitch a section of the Sunshine and Shadow quilt she'd started for Chris before she was shot.

It was fortunate that she was right-handed and it was her left arm that had been injured. But the awkwardness and occasional pain shooting down her arm as she worked didn't make things easy.

She didn't know why she was still working on this. Why should she give him a quilt when he wouldn't visit her—even now when only a field separated them?

The other women had offered to help her complete it, but she always finished what she started. First, she'd finish the quilt.

Then she'd have a talk with him and he'd hear how she felt about him not coming to see her.

Then she thought, why not now? The time was right—right now!

She marched to the door.

"Hannah? Where are you going?" Phoebe called to her.

The other ladies looked up from their quilting.

"I need to go next door for something. I'll be right back."

She found Jenny in the kitchen, sitting at the table, writing on a big yellow pad.

"Well, hello! Are you through with the quilting already? I can fix us some tea—"

"So what does 'sweetheart' mean?" she asked without preamble.

"You know what it means."

"Tell me."

"Okay. It's a term someone uses when they love you."

"The meaning hasn't changed?"

Jenny stared at her. "No. Why?"

"I'll be right back."

Hannah turned on her heel and stomped outside. But she didn't see Chris in the fields with the other men.

Joshua was working in the yard.

"Where's Chris?"

"He left just a few minutes ago," Joshua told her.

"Left? Where was he going?"

"I don't know."

Hannah scanned the fields. It seemed to her that the harvesting had been completed for all practical purposes. Had Chris gone into town—or had he left for good?

"Do you need something, Aenti Hannah?"

"I'll say. I need to tell that man—" She stopped when she saw the curiosity on Joshua's face. "How long ago?"

"Just a little while ago. I could go try to catch him for you."

"Never mind," she said, gritting her teeth. "Can you hitch up Daisy for me?"

"Schur."

They walked over to Phoebe's barn.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Joshua asked as he led a fully recovered Daisy out with the buggy. "You need help, don't you?" He waved his hand at her sling.

Such a sweet boy. She hoped he didn't grow up to be a man who drove women crazy like Chris.

"I'll be fine. Danki, Joshua." She climbed into the buggy and Daisy started off.

Hannah muttered to herself as they traveled, rehearsing what she wanted to say to Chris. Okay, so apparently they weren't going to have the relationship she'd hoped they would, but weren't they at least friends? Didn't friends visit each other when they were ill or when they came home from the hospital? Didn't they wish each other well?

And if he was leaving for good, couldn't he at least say goodbye to her? She deserved that, didn't she?

Halfway to town, she saw his lone figure ahead. His long legs were putting more distance between them. You just can't get away fast enough, can you? she wanted to ask him. She urged Daisy faster so that she could pull up beside him.

He glanced up as the buggy came level with him, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Hannah!"

"I want to talk to you!"

"Okay."

He joined her at the side of the road after she'd pulled the buggy over. She remembered the last time she'd seen him on this road, remembered what had happened, but she pushed that memory aside.

"What's up?"

"What's up?" she burst out. "What's up?"

"Yeah. You okay?"

"You'd know if you visited me!"

His expression became shuttered. "I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"Well, you thought wrong!"

He blinked. "Evidently you have something to say. Maybe you should just say it."

"So you figured you'd just waltz out of town without saying good-bye?"

"I wasn't—"

"I thought we were at least friends," she snapped, using the line she'd rehearsed on the ride to find him. "Friends don't treat each other this way!"

"No, they don't," he agreed, stepping closer.

"I asked Jenny what 'sweetheart' means."

"You did?" he asked, looking wary.

"Yes. I checked to see if it had the same meaning I thought it did—that it hadn't become something like 'babe' or 'chick.' Like the town of Intercourse nearby."

"So Jenny was right."

"Yes, she said the meaning—"

"No," he interrupted. "I'm talking about what she said the day you were put in the hospital. She said that people can hear sometimes when you think they're unconscious. You heard me."

She nodded. "You call me sweetheart and then you leave? If this is the way people treat each other in the Englisch world then I'm glad I'm here!"

A police cruiser approached from the opposite side of the road. It slowed and the officer leaned out the open window.

"Any problem, folks?"

"Hello, Officer Lang," Chris said.

They knew each other? Hannah wondered where the attractive officer had met Chris and felt a stab of jealousy as she saw how friendly the woman behaved toward him. She bit her lip.

Then inspiration struck.

"He's not supposed to be leaving town, is he, Officer?"

"Pardon me?"

"Well, I mean, you haven't wrapped up your investigation with the shooting, have you? Isn't he supposed to stick around until after it's done?"

"I—" The officer looked at Chris and then back at Hannah.

"Well, no, everything's not all tied up," the woman said slowly. "He needs to stick around for a while."

"I do?"

She nodded. "I'll be checking back."

A voice squawked out something on the communication system in her car. She tilted her head and listened. Then she turned to look at them. "Gotta go."

"But—"

She glanced back at Hannah. "It'll be interesting to see how this works out."

The car accelerated down the road, and the lights flashed and the siren came on.

"I think you need to see something," Chris said. Taking his backpack off, he opened it. "Look inside."

Wary, she peeked in as he requested. She saw a wallet and the library book he'd borrowed along with a plastic bottle of water. There was nothing else.

Confused, she looked at him.

"I was taking the library book back. They found it in Kraft's room. Thought I'd return it. Didn't want you to be in trouble with that librarian. She scared me."

Hannah smiled slightly. "She's pretty careful who she loans books to."

He nodded. "I'm thinking of getting my own card."

"I—don't understand."

"I'm sticking around. You didn't think I could go anywhere you're not, do you?" he asked quietly



She saw something in his eyes she hadn't seen before.

"I—don't know. You haven't said anything."

"What could I say?" he asked. "I kept telling myself I couldn't feel the way I do for you, that it wouldn't work. I did it even up until maybe a few minutes ago."

"Then—what changed?"

She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

"Then you came speeding up, demanding to know where I was going. Refusing to let me go."

He grinned and leaned closer, careful of her arm, and then he kissed her.

"I love you, you impossible woman. And I'm hoping you love me. I think you do."

"Impossible?"

He kissed her again. "Yeah. Impossible. I don't think you'll be the easiest wife, but I'm willing to give this a try."

"Wife?"

"Yeah, wife. I talked to Phoebe. She told me to go speak to the bishop."

He tilted his head and studied her when she just stared at him. "I do believe I've rendered you speechless. Never thought I'd see the day."

"It's likely you won't again," she said, reaching out to touch his cheek.

"I gather that I have months of instruction in the Amish faith, so we can't get married until next year. But I figure that'll just give us a chance to get to know each other better."

She nodded, wondering at the strange turn of events. Who would have thought such a thing would happen, that a man like him would come into her life, that she'd come to care for him so much that she'd walk in front of him to protect him? That he'd stand beside her on a dusty road and talk about marrying her.

"Why don't you let me drive us back home?"

He helped her climb into the buggy, and she handed him the reins when he sat beside her.

He leaned over, and she leaned away from him.

"I just want another kiss."

She glanced around. "Not here!"

"Yeah, here." He grinned at her and started to reach for her then stopped. "I'm afraid of hurting you."

"You'll only hurt me if you don't hold me," she whispered, leaning closer. "I'm so glad you came here."

"I'm not entirely sure I know why I came here," he said slowly, caressing her cheek. "I thought it was because I wanted to talk to Jenny about Malcolm and how I felt like my life would never be the same. We didn't know each other long, but I felt like we really connected at the hospital—" he hesitated— "as friends," he said firmly.

"Go on."

"I knew she'd had to make a lot of adjustments to life after she came home from overseas. We wrote each other a few times, and she seemed so happy here. Then one day, I was sitting in the hospital, watching TV, and this show came on about the area and I just felt compelled to come here."

He looked out at the farmland surrounding them. "I felt something settle inside me the moment I got to Paradise. And even though things were anything but peaceful when I met you, well, I couldn't help being attracted to you."

"We have this expression," she said, smiling at him. "People kept saying it to me: 'There's a man God set aside for you.' But I got to doubting that when time passed."

A car approached from behind them and slowed beside the buggy. It was the police officer again. She glanced inside the buggy, grinned when she saw how closely they were sitting— Chris's arms around Hannah—and then she sped off.

Hannah watched the car until it went around the bend in the road.

"I want to talk to you about not pressing charges against Kraft," Chris said.

She stiffened. "I'm not changing my mind."

"I'm not asking you to. I want you to help me understand. I talked to Matthew and I'm trying to understand."

"I'll try," she told him. "Just not today. All right?"

"No. Not today."

"Let's go home and tell everyone our news."

Chris spoke to Daisy and she made a U-turn in the road.

"Very impressive," Hannah told him.

He shot her a grin. "Ya," he said. "You'd think I had grown up Amish, wouldn't you? Say, do you need a driver's license for these things?"

Her laughter floated in the air as they made their way home.

The End