Where Shadows Meet(32)

Nora settled onto the sofa beside her. “I’m fine, or at least, as fine as I can be.” She fingered the quilt block. “Really lovely stitching, Hannah.”

“Not as good as my mother’s.”

Nora smiled. “Ah, your mother. I couldn’t have loved her more if she’d been my own sister. I still miss her.” She examined the stitches more closely. “You’re every bit as good, my dear. You must love it like Patricia did.”

“I do. It’s my way of holding on to my mother,” Hannah whispered. She’d never admitted to anyone what fueled her obsession.

“Your mother always said it was her way of making sense of the chaos in the world.” Nora pointed to the basket on the floor. “Looking at the jumble of fabric and thread, there seems to be no pattern, no order there. But little by little, quilting brings order.”

“You’re right. Maybe that’s why it calms me.” Hannah wanted to bring up all her questions but worried over her aunt’s fragility.

“What pattern are you working on?”

“It’s a Triangle.” She showed her aunt the brightly pieced square. “I use black fabric for the background and border, just like Mamm always did.

“This one is supposed to be photographed for the cover of a pattern quilt book I’m writing. It will illustrate the three things important to our way of life.”

“It’s beautiful.” Her aunt’s hand stroked the fabric. “I’m very proud of you.”

Pain encased Hannah’s heart. No one had said those words to her since her parents died. Reece had been quick to point out her failings, and praise from the museum was scanty until her book came out and she’d been catapulted into fame. She didn’t feel worthy of any praise. She’d turned her back on her heritage and fallen into a relationship straight from a suspense movie. Now here she was with a failed marriage. Hardly a person to be proud of. But that was her aunt Nora. She saw the best in everyone.

Maybe that was why the success of her book frightened her.

Hannah put down her quilt block and reached for her bag. She pulled out the picture of the child. “This picture you sent me. Look at the quilt she’s sitting on.”

Nora carried it closer to the sputtering gaslight. “It’s hard to see. What is it I’m looking for?”

“I recognize the quilt. It’s the one Mamm was working on the week she died.”

“Oh, Hannah, my dear, are you sure? The Sunshine and Shadow Quilt isn’t uncommon.” Her aunt’s eyes held strain when she passed the picture back.

“I’m positive. I helped her choose the colors.” It was the last quilt her mother had finished, and Hannah’s favorite. “Mamm called this her ‘almost Amish’ quilt.”

Her aunt took another look at the picture. “Because of the yellow in it.”

“She loved to push past a bit of tradition.” The design radiated green, turquoise, yellow, and red against a navy background. “She let me decide which colors to set against one another. And she let me buy some yellow fabric for it even though that’s not a normal color for us.” Even Hannah could recognize the stubborn tone of her voice. And honestly, was she sure that the quilt was Mamm’s? She thought she was. But was it wishful thinking? Only finding the child and the quilt would answer those questions.

Nora handed back the picture. “Did you tell Matt?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a cop. He won’t be interested in helping me find my—the little girl.”

Nora patted her hand and settled onto the sofa beside Hannah. “You’re not sure this is the same one, are you, dear?”

Hannah picked up her quilt block again. “I want to see it to make sure,” she said. “Aunt Nora, Reece called me this morning, right after I got here. He said he has our daughter and that he’s raising her Amish. He said he’s converted. I think he’s lying. Oh, I’m so confused. Are you up to talking?”

“I thought that’s what we were doing.” Her aunt laid her book beside her on the sofa. “I know you’ve been dying to ask me about what I know about the little girl and Moe’s death. There are things you need to know, Hannah. A powerful enemy isn’t through with this family yet. When the letter came, I went to see—” Before her aunt could finish, the window glass beside the sofa shattered. Shards of glass spilled out onto the wooden floor. The cats yowled and ran for the kitchen. Hannah and her aunt jumped up and turned to look as a glass bottle shattered and burst into flame. The fire spread quickly from the accelerant.

“The extinguisher!” Her aunt ran to grab a fire extinguisher in the kitchen, then returned to smother the fire.

Hannah called 9-1-1 from her cell phone as she roused Angie from sleep.



HOURS LATER, THE fire department and the sheriff’s department left, and the women wearily cleaned up the soggy mess. The burn marks on the floor couldn’t be hidden, but they mopped up the water and scrubbed away the soot in preparation for the funeral only hours away. None of them had heard or seen anything to indicate who had tried to torch the house. But Hannah feared she knew—Reece. He was sending her a warning that he’d found her. And that anyone who stood between the two of them would suffer the consequences.