Anathema (31 page)

Matt battered through some arching brambles and held them out of the way for her. She stepped into a small clearing with him. Holding her lantern high, she turned in the meadow. Metal caught a beam from the light and bounced it back at her. Eyes glowed through the wire. A cat’s eyes.

Spooky paced a small cage placed in the center of the clearing. His plaintive cries rose to a crescendo. Ajax circled the cage and whined his sympathy. He pawed at the door. Hannah started forward, but Matt grabbed her arm.

He grabbed a stick and prodded the air and the ground with it before he approached the cage. Ajax began to bark, obviously thinking it a fine game.

Hannah started to follow Matt, but a hand smelling of onions clapped over her mouth. An arm came around her waist and pulled her back, dragging her into the bushes. She thrashed against the man and dropped the lantern. She tried to scream, but the animals were making so much ruckus that her muffled screech didn’t get past the strong hand. She thought she heard Matt calling her name in the distance. Reaching out, she grabbed at branches, but they were too thin and weak to support her and she was left with leaves.

“Sh, Hannah, don’t make a fuss.” Reece ’s lips touched her ear, then traveled down her neck in a trail to her shoulder.

She shuddered when she realized who held her, then began to struggle more wildly. If only she could get her teeth into his hand. He dragged her farther away until she could barely hear the bark of the dog in the shrouding trees.

He shook her. “I said be quiet. I’ve got a gun, Hannah. Want me to shoot Matt?”

Hot moisture burned her eyes, and she blinked rapidly. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her frightened tears.

“Good girl,” he crooned. “I’ve missed you, Hannah. The smell of you, the taste of you.”

He nuzzled her neck, and bile rose in her throat at the sensation of his whiskers. A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. He licked that up too. Matt called her name from somewhere.

“Sweet Hannah,” he whispered. “I know you’ve missed me. Our little girl misses her mother. We can be a family, my love, the perfect little unit. Just come home with me now. I’m going to take my hand away if you promise not to scream. Do you promise? Remember, if Matt comes running, he ’s a dead man.”

She nodded. If he didn’t take his hand off her face soon, she ’d faint. He nuzzled her neck again, then raised his hand from her mouth. Before she could react, he flipped her around to face him. He dragged her tightly against him and buried his face in her neck again.

She managed to get both palms against his chest and shoved hard enough to gain a few inches. “Get your hands off me. You’re a murderer. You killed my parents, and Moe and Aunt Nora. I have
proof
!”

He pinned her arms to her sides. “What proof?” His voice went harsh.

Now that he was in front of her, hatred swallowed her fear. He was still lying, still manipulating. “The picture you sent. The little girl is sitting on one of my mother’s quilts. That means you had access to them when you got rid of her.”

Now that she was in his presence, she knew. Her soul recognized the evil in him.

“No one will believe you. Besides—” He broke off and shut his mouth. “Never mind.”

“Where is she?” Hannah demanded. She began to strike at him with her fists, but she was no more effective than a kitten pawing at a tiger. Her hands struck his suspenders. “Where is my baby girl?” The words choked off. She could see him smiling in the faint glimmer of light through the trees now that her eyes had adjusted.

“Have you asked Matt about her?”

“What’s Matt got to do with this?”

Before Reece answered, Matt called Hannah’s name again. His voice sounded closer. Reece released her. “Ask Matt if you can meet his daughter. See what he says.” His hands fell from her body, and he melted into the shadows.

Hannah stared into the darkness. Where had he gone so quickly? Matt yelled for her again. “I’m here,” she called.

He broke through the underbrush and found her. “What happened?” He carried the lantern she had dropped. Ajax loped at his feet.

“Reece grabbed me.” Hannah wrapped her arms around herself. The shakes began then, shuddering through her frame. She swiped at the wetness still on her cheek. Disgusting.

Matt lifted the light and came to her side. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Which way did he go?”

“I—I’m not sure.” The darkness and trauma had left her disoriented. “Don’t leave me.” She hurtled into his arms. Before she realized it, she had wrapped her arms around his waist and was nestling against his chest. She fit nicely. His chin just touched the top of her head. She liked the scent of his cologne, something spicy and masculine.

“You’re shaking,” Matt said. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her away. “Let’s get in the house. I want you safe.” He handed her the flashlight and lantern, then returned to fetch Spooky.

She shone the way with the flashlight. Safe. With him she was safe. But she’d thought that once about Reece. She wasn’t a good judge of men.

They were back at the house none too soon for Hannah. Asia had gone upstairs.

Matt pressed her onto the sofa in the sitting room. “You need some water?”

“No, I’m fine.” And she was. In the rays of the sputtering gaslight with home around her and Matt here with her, she knew Reece could never touch her.

Matt sat beside her. “You’re pale.”

“It’s okay. He wanted to scare me.”

His arm came around her and pulled her to him. “What did he say?”

“Nothing, really.” She shuddered. “I told him I knew he’d killed my family. I’m sure the girl is my daughter. The quilt under the child connects him to the murders. Reece had access to the quilts only if he killed my parents.”

Matt stilled. “Anything else?”

She wasn’t about to tell him that Reece had insinuated Matt might know something. Reece had sensed her feelings for Matt and was trying to destroy them. She leaned her head against his chest and fell silent.

Heaven. The scent of his breath, the hard muscles of his chest under her palm as it rested against his shirt—this was heaven as she ’d never known it. It had been so long since someone looked at her as if she was a real person.

Hannah realized this emotion she ’d been fighting for days was love. Matt was the kind of man she’d always longed for. Peace and safety settled around her until she realized the position she ’d put them both in as she sought comfort. She wasn’t divorced.

“Ask him about his daughter.”

Why would Reece say that? Was it only to twist her emotions about Matt up in knots? Did he think Matt wouldn’t want her to see his daughter? She didn’t want to think. She straightened and pulled away from his embrace. He immediately released her. Reece never would have done that. He would have taken it as a personal challenge to force her to yield to him.

“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

M
att 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.

She put her hand over his as he whipped the batter. “Not too much,” she whispered. “It won’t rise.” She retreated to a chair at the table. “Good morning,” she told her cousin.

Luca nodded. “
Gut
morning.” He sniffed as the batter touched the hot oil in the skillet. “Pancakes?”

“Yep,” Matt said. He kept a close eye on the edges of the batter.

Luca went to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. “I am hungry. The family will be down soon. It is kind of you to feed us all on such a busy morning.”

“Your cupboard provided the ingredients. I’m just doing the cooking.”

“
Gut
coffee. You made it?”

“Sure did.” He wondered what Luca would do if he said that Hannah had made it. Or if he said that she ’d mixed up the batter for him. Would he refuse to eat the pancakes? Spit out the coffee? He cooked three pancakes and flipped them onto a plate for Luca.

Feet pounded down the steps, and Sarah burst into the kitchen. She jabbered something in German that made both Luca and Hannah leap for the door. “What’s wrong?” Matt asked, running after them. But when he reached the door, he needed no translation. “The barn’s on fire!” He grabbed his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

By the time he jammed his phone back onto his belt, Luca was dragging a hose toward the barn. Flames were beginning to shoot through the roof.

“The horses!” Splashing through puddles left by last night’s rain, Hannah ran toward the barn.

Matt sprang after her. “Hannah, no!” But she paid him no attention. Shoving open the door, she disappeared into the black smoke billowing from the opening. The air from the open door fueled the fire, and the flames shot higher through the roof as if straining to torch a few lazy clouds passing by.

Luca sprayed the water onto the barn, but the flames just danced higher. Matt reached the billowing smoke, and the harsh heat struck his lungs. He coughed and plunged into the darkness of the superheated barn. “Hannah!” he shouted, still coughing. It was like an image of hell. Flames and smoke billowed around him, the fire eating up the dry tinder of the old barn. Horses screamed, and he leaped in the direction of the sound.