Where Shadows Meet(84)

Sarah came to the door. “Don’t do that. The women will be here in a few minutes to do it.”

Hannah’s head came up to snare Sarah’s gaze. “I don’t understand. Why would they help me?”

“Because I asked them to.” Sarah held Hannah’s mother’s keepsake box in her hands. “I am going to confess at the next meeting.”

Hannah waited to hear what Sarah meant. They’d been through enough already—she didn’t want to drag Sarah into more turmoil.

“I took the ring, Hannah. I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Hannah’s needle stilled in her hands. “You took my mother’s ring? Why?” Wasn’t it bad enough that her family had been stripped from her? Did Sarah and Luca have to begrudge her small mementos? She tried to keep her anger in check, but her foot began to tap restlessly.

“It was worth a great deal of money,” she said. “When we were engaged, Luca talked of nothing but expanding the greenhouse, of what he could do once he saved enough. I had nothing but love. I was here cleaning after the murders and I found it. It did no one any good in that box. I thought your mother would have wanted it to be used for something worthy. I sold it. I told Luca it was my dowry and he never asked where the money came from.”

“I see,” Hannah said. “You had no right.” Hannah had looked at the ring many times. It belonged to her. Her mother would have wanted her to have it.

“I know. Can you forgive me?” Sarah asked again, advancing into the room. “I’m so sorry, Hannah. I judged you when I should have judged myself. Maybe I didn’t want you to expose what I’d done.”

Hannah wanted to hold on to her anger. “Does Luca know?”

Sarah sniffed. “Not yet. I’ll tell him tonight. I wanted to beg your forgiveness first.”

“You lied to him. Won’t he be angry? I have to be honest, Sarah—I’m angry. And I’m hurt.” Hannah found lies the hardest to forgive. They struck at the core of any trusting relationship, and since Reece, trust came hard to her. The lies about the ring had slipped off Sarah’s tongue all too easily.

“Yes, but he loves me. He will forgive me.”

“Can you get the ring back? I really want it, Sarah.”

Sarah’s eyes clouded. “I’m sure it’s been sold by now. You haven’t said if you forgive me.”

Hannah tried to struggle past the anger that still simmered. Sarah had no right to sell her mother’s ring. It was easy for Sarah to ask for forgiveness. She was the thief. But saying “I’m sorry” wouldn’t bring the ring back to Hannah. It was one thing to ask for forgiveness, but could Sarah extend it as easily as she asked for it?

“Sarah, what would you do if you’d married a husband who beat you?” she asked. She’d thought her friend would answer quickly and tersely, but she kept silent and pondered the question.

“I don’t know,” Sarah said after Hannah began to think she wouldn’t answer at all. “I would not want my girls to see such a thing. I would not want to experience anything like that. I hope I would try to love the violence out of him.”

“Some people can’t be loved enough,” Hannah said. “I tried. Reece was too far gone.”

“Not for God,” Sarah said quickly.

“But I’m not God,” Hannah said. “And I did my best.” But had she? She’d been quick to slip out to sales to look for quilts in spite of his orders. Had she ever put him first? She’d been so lonely in the early months, so ill equipped for marriage. At least half the blame was probably hers.

Sarah put her hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “I’m not going to judge you, Hannah. I don’t know what shoes you’ve walked in.” She released her and went to pull out the quilting frame. “Now let’s get your quilt finished. The others are coming. We can talk later. But please, I so want your forgiveness.”

The hard coil of bitterness began to unwind in Hannah’s heart at the desperate plea in Sarah’s voice. “I forgive you.” She said the words not knowing if she meant them.

Hannah heard them then, women talking and laughing as they poured into the house with their needles and thimbles. Thunder rolled and rain swept the windows all afternoon, but none of them minded. By suppertime, the quilt was finished, and Hannah knew love never died. It just sometimes went underground.


MATT HAD NEVER seen anything like the busyness going on outside two days after the fire. Sunday had been the Amish day of rest, but they tackled the job with gusto on Monday. No wonder Hannah missed the warmth and love of these people. He turned to work on the pancakes he was making for the crowd eating at tables outside.

“We’ll have a new barn up by the weekend if the rain holds off,” Luca said over breakfast. “When the tornado struck southern Indiana a few years ago, Amish friends from all over had the mess cleaned up and barns rebuilt in a couple of weeks.”

“I believe it,” Matt said. “The storm coming through here over the next few days is supposed to be ferocious with heavy rains and flooding.” Hannah stood beside him as he worked. His movements were awkward because of his burned hands. “Hannah”—he spoke too softly for anyone but her to hear—“I checked on the cemeteries in Wabash. No luck.”