Where Shadows Meet(81)

“I’m sorry. I’m moving too fast,” he whispered. “I care about you, Hannah. I want to see you, to take you to dinner. Make you laugh. See your hair on your shoulders in the candlelight. When you’re free to do that.”

What woman’s heart wouldn’t be stirred by those poetic words? But maybe he was just practiced at it. Hannah swallowed past the lump in her throat. She should ask him about what Reece had said, but she didn’t want to bring strife into the room with them. She wanted to cup his dear face in her hands and kiss him. But the question had to be asked. She had to know what Reece meant.

“Could I meet your daughter?”

Matt went still, and his smile faded. “Where did that come from?”

“Reece said I should ask you about your daughter. What did he mean?”

The warmth blinked out of Matt’s eyes. He rose from the sofa and turned his back to her. “Who knows what a madman thinks? We’d better get to bed.”

“Could I see a picture of your daughter?”

“I don’t have one with me.” He stood and held out his hand. “Let’s forget tonight ever happened.”

Forgetting about it was the last thing she wanted. Was he hiding something?





TWENTY - TWO


“The Amish Center Diamond Quilt is beautiful in its simplicity. It captures in a lovely image the belief that God should always be at the center of all decisions and life choices, that he is supreme.”

—HANNAH SCHWARTZ,

IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts

Matt sponged himself off with warm water heated on the woodstove. He towel-dried his hair with a vengeance, then jerked on jeans and sneakers to dash to the outhouse and back. The sun was peeking through the window as he went back to the sitting room and folded his sheets. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night with the ferocious thunderstorm that had crashed overhead until early this morning.

He should have known better than to let himself care. All he had to do was keep his distance and wait for Hannah to leave, but no, he’d had to go make a fool of himself. He was weak, and even worse, he was a fool. She had the power to rip his world apart. He needed to keep her at arm’s length. For all his preaching to Blake about the sanctity of marriage, he’d ignored the fact that she was legally bound. Where did the boundaries lie with God? Surely God didn’t want her to go back to an abusive man, one who might even be a murderer.

Being with her was like peeking into a different world—a place where he might actually find love again. But it couldn’t happen, not now. He’d never give up his daughter, and Hannah would never forgive his lies.

The rest of the household stirred overhead. Floorboards creaked and a door scraped open. The steps groaned under someone’s weight, then Hannah stepped into view. Dressed in a denim skirt and yellow blouse, she looked as bright as a daffodil.

“Sounds like your family is up,” he said.

“I’d love to make pancakes for them this morning before we go to Aunt Nora’s funeral, but they won’t accept any favors from me.” She wasn’t looking at him.

He knew he should shove his feet into his shoes and get the heck out of Dodge, but instead he stepped closer to her. “Hey, I’m a mean wielder of the spatula. How about you mix it up before they get down and I’ll do the cooking. They won’t say a word.”

Her smile turned hopeful. “You cook?”

“You question my culinary ability?”

“Of course not. I know you can do anything.” She smiled, and a steady faith burned in her eyes.

She made him believe he was Superman. How did she do that? He followed her to the kitchen and made coffee while she put on an apron and assembled her ingredients.

“I wish they’d let me make them a shoofly pie.”

“Hey, you can make me one.” He grinned and pulled up a chair. Hannah began to mix the ingredients in a large yellow glass bowl. His grandmother had an old bowl like that. “I like your family. I used to think the Amish were just a strange sect, almost a cult or something. But they’re good, honest Christians. The peace here in their home is almost enough to make me give up my SUV.”

She smiled and cracked an egg into the batter. “It’s good to be back.” She wiped her hands on her apron, then untied it. “Your turn.” She had him stand up and swathed him in the dark blue apron.

“Do I have to wear this?”

“You look more official.”

She was standing close enough when he turned around that he would only have to bend over slightly to kiss her. Her golden eyes captivated him. The expression in them was as soft as the color. He was too weak to resist even though he knew the pain was coming. He cupped her face in his palm. “What are we going to do about us?”

“Is there an us, Matt?”

“I love to hear you say my name. Say it again.”

“Matt,” she whispered. “Don’t hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t.” He wanted to kiss her, but he heard the steps creaking. With reluctance, he turned to the stove and began beating the batter. Stupid, stupid. There was no way to fix this. For a second he allowed himself to dream of what life might be like if the truth were out in the open and she forgave him anyway. It couldn’t be, though. No mother would forgive what he had done. And there was still her tie to Reece to contend with.