Where Shadows Meet(70)

“Of course.” Hannah bolted for the door to avoid her censure. Angie followed. Out on the porch, Hannah leaned against the railing until the crew called her. “I should have canceled this,” she said.

“It will be over soon,” Angie soothed. She took out a notebook and went down to greet the hosts of the show.

But it wasn’t over soon enough for Hannah. Two hours later, she’d been photographed sitting in the buggy, leaning against the barn, standing by the laundry line, and smiling by the ham hanging in the smokehouse. Limp as the overalls flapping in the breeze on the line, she wanted nothing more than to forget the morning ever happened. The crew and hosts were wonderful, but she knew the interview had been wrong for her, for her family.

Once the trucks and cars departed, Hannah wanted to get away. Angie drove her to town, where Hannah pointed out the coffee shop. Plenty of residents would be there. Angie parked the car and they headed inside.

The aroma of coffee beans roasting burned Hannah’s throat as soon as she stepped in the door. She glanced around the room. None of the people sipping lattes and checking e-mail paid her the least attention.

“You sure you want to do this?” Angie whispered. “Do you know any of them?”

Hannah was about to say they were all strangers when a man looked up and their eyes locked. Panic fluttered into her throat, and she took an involuntary step back. Noah Whetstone rose from his chair and came toward her. He wasn’t smiling. She wanted to flee, to hide in the bushes outside the door where she didn’t have to see the betrayal come into his face again.

She watched him approach. He wore a long beard, no mustache, and smooth cheeks, so he’d kept the faith. And he’d taken a wife, another woman, someone who deserved him. The beard was a symbol of his married status. His pants were a little dusty as though he’d already worked awhile at the sawmill this morning. And he likely had. It was after ten.

After what seemed an eternity, he reached her. “Hannah. I heard you were back in town, ja.”

“You—you look well, Noah.” Hannah forced a smile, lifting her chin to look him in the eye. He didn’t have to know her perfect life had crumbled around her like a rotted board. There was no need to let him know she still carried the shame of how she’d treated him.

“And you.” He cleared his throat. “There is room at the table next to mine, if you’d like to sit.” He glanced at Angie. “This is your friend?”

“Oh yes. Angie, this is Noah Whetstone. A—a friend. Angie is my good friend and assistant.”

His gaze held reproach, but he said nothing about their former relationship. “You want coffee? I will get it.”

Angie plopped into the chair as though the air in the place hadn’t just thickened to the consistency of molasses. She said, “I’ll take a mocha.”

“You probably shouldn’t do that, Noah. It might look as though we’re sharing a meal.”

He frowned, then shook his head. “You are still under the ban, ja? But no matter. I will get it. You can sit at the table next to mine and we can still talk though I honor the shunning.”

“I’ll take an iced coffee, then.” Hannah sank onto the chair he’d pointed out. Her hands were shaking. Noah had moved on too. It wasn’t as though she’d ruined his life. Still, it hurt to come face-to-face with her failures. She watched him take out his cell phone and place a call, then put it back. Maybe he was calling the bishop to come confront her.

“You all right?” Angie asked. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

“It was just a shock, seeing him.”

“I gather he’s more than a friend?”

“We were engaged. I hurt him when I ran off with Reece.”

Angie studied the young man standing in line. “You left him for Reece? He’s cute, especially if you could get him to shave off those whiskers.”

“I like the beard,” Hannah said. She’d grown up admiring her father’s.

Noah came back holding two cups of coffee. He set one in front of each of the women, then took his own seat again.

“Thanks.” Hannah took a sip of her coffee. “Who did you marry, Noah?” Hannah knew it would be someone she knew.

“Katie Stoltz. She has been a gut wife.”

Hannah was relieved he’d done so well for himself. “I always liked Katie.” Katie’s dad owned the sawmill where Noah worked. “You’re still at the sawmill then?” She smiled and pointed to the dust on his jacket.

“Ja. Katie’s father retired a year ago.”

“Children?”

“Four.” His smile grew broader.

“Wonderful!” She hoped her envy didn’t show.

“What about you, Hannah? You are happy, ja? Children?”

“I’m so sorry, Noah,” she burst out. “I hate what I did to you. I hope you can forgive me.”

His warm eyes studied her. “I have a gut life, Hannah. You did me no lasting harm. I forgave you long ago.”

And she knew he had. The Amish way wasn’t to wait to offer forgiveness until asked. It was freely extended regardless. She fingered the picture in the pocket of her skirt, then slowly drew it out and reached across the aisle to show it to him. “Do you recognize this child?” A line crouched between his eyes, and she could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he took the picture and gazed down at it.