Where Shadows Meet(58)

He tightened his grip around Caitlin. She would never feel abandoned while he had breath in his body.

“Maybe she’ll come back. I’d like to meet her.” Caitlin’s voice grew softer, and her eyes closed. Rhythmic breathing followed.

“I wish she’d come back too,” Matt muttered against his sleeping daughter’s hair. She didn’t often take a nap. He stood with her in his arms and carried her to bed. His sister was watching her afternoon soap opera. The TV flickered, but the sound was down so low he wondered how she could hear it. He tucked the covers around Caitlin and pressed a kiss against her hair before joining Gina in the living room.

“Sit down, Matt,” she said. “You’re keeping something from me. Work is always intense, but you’ve never asked me to keep Caitlin before. You know I love her, but I want to know what’s going on.”

The need to talk to someone, to confess, gripped him in a stranglehold. “Caitlin’s real mother is here in town looking for her.”

“Looking for her? What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “Her mother never gave up Caitlin. Someone stole the baby from her and gave her to us.” Almost too late, he caught back Reece’s name. “We didn’t get her in the usual way. Analise heard something at the door, and Ajax was going crazy barking. She opened the door and found a newborn baby girl in a carrier.”

Gina pointed her finger at him. “You never told me all this. I only heard a baby had come through for you.”

“We didn’t want Caitlin to hear about it someday and feel more abandoned than she would when she learned of her adoption. There’s something devastating about being tossed on someone’s porch. She was all swaddled up against the chill. And we found her immediately, just as the kidnapper thought we would.” One peek into her wrinkled little face had triggered love at first sight. He still remembered the way she opened her eyes and looked at him. He and Analise had been trying to have a baby for five years and were just starting to talk about adoption. It seemed Caitlin was a gift from heaven.

With his position at the sheriff’s department, it had been easy to keep the circumstances quiet and to put the adoption through. They told friends and family a private adoption had been arranged and they’d gone to the hospital to get her. A quiet search was made for her parents, but no traces of them were ever found. A few months later, the adoption was final.

And final was the word. He couldn’t give her up.

“Have you spoken with the mother?”

“I haven’t told her I have Caitlin, if that’s what you mean.”

“You don’t want this woman to find her. Heck, I don’t want her to find her! I love Caitlin. There would be a huge custody battle.”

“Exactly.” At least he had some support now.





SEVENTEEN


“The Chevron Quilt is an interesting pattern. And one that has special meaning when you look at the way the Amish won’t wear a uniform or serve in the military.”

HANNAH SCHWARTZ, ON THE Today SHOW

Hannah’s gaze kept returning to the center of the sitting room where she’d found the bodies of her family. No trace of the symbol marred the walls. The three hours she’d been here had dragged by, hung up on tragic memories haunting every corner and peering from every shadow.

Tableware clanged against plates in the kitchen. Hannah could hear one of her cousins talking to Sarah in German. The guttural tones took her back to her own childhood. Seated on the sofa with a tray, she picked at the food on her plate.

Angie tipped her head and listened. “How well do you still remember your German?” She’d insisted on joining Hannah for dinner.

“I’m a little rusty. I found that out when I tried to talk to the children the last time we were here. Ours is a Swiss-German dialect that’s a little different from what the Englisch call Pennsylvania Dutch.”

“Is Parke County the sect’s only home?”

“No, but the majority of the Swiss Amish came to Indiana. Our group came later than those in Pennsylvania. We made our way to the state around 1840 directly from Switzerland. Most Amish people here in Parke County are from Pennsylvania and speak Pennsylvania Deutsch. Most of us here in Indiana who speak the Swiss dialect are up around Berne, but our district was a plant from there.”

“Are the languages close enough to understand each other?”

“It’s a little challenging.” Hannah smiled. “If I were to talk with a Pennsylvania Deutsch Amish woman, it would be easier to speak English. We don’t socialize much with the other group either.”

Angie studied her face. “You keep saying we.”

Hannah’s laugh felt strained. “I suppose I do. I hadn’t noticed. I’ll always be Amish at heart.”

“How do you mean?”

“Our simple love of family, our neighbors. It’s ingrained in me, and I’ll always carry it with me. I might carry a cell phone and cut my hair, but inside I’m Amish.”

Angie nodded. “I can see that. It’s one reason people are drawn to you.”

Drawn to her? Hannah had never noticed. She scooped up a spoonful of her cold fruit soup—mashed strawberries, milk, and sugar over bread. She hadn’t had anything like it since she left the county, and she nearly smacked her lips over the fresh taste. Sarah was a good cook. The chicken potpie had pastry flaky enough to melt in her mouth, and the homemade root beer rivaled Mamm’s.