Restless Hearts (13 page)

The only one who didn't join in the lively talk was her grandmother. Fiona glanced at her quickly, not wanting to be caught staring. Her grandmother seemed to be taking a very long time putting leftovers in the gas-powered refrigerator. Maybe she welcomed that as an excuse not to talk.

And maybe all the lively conversation the others provided was a screen to mask her grandmother's silence. Or a way of protecting her from the pain caused by Fiona's presence.

I don't want to hurt her. I just don't know what to do. Please—

The kitchen fell silent as abruptly as if someone had turned a switch. Her grandmother walked toward her. Fiona held her breath, not sure what was happening. Her grandmother reached out, almost tentatively, and touched her cheek.

“At first I thought there was nothing in you of my Hannah,” she said slowly. “But I look into your eyes, and I see her there.”

Fiona's throat went tight. “I never knew where my gray eyes came from, until I came here.”

“It was right that you came.” Her grandmother's cheeks glistened with tears, but she smiled. “When I first saw the quilt, I was afraid, but that was wrong.”

“I'm sorry,” she said quickly. “About bringing the quilt pieces to Ruth's that day. I didn't realize anyone would recognize them.”

“It makes no matter.” Her grandmother patted her cheek. “The quilt is a good thing. Emma will finish piecing it soon.”

That brought a gasp from Emma. “You know about it?”

“Ja, I know. And when the quilt top is ready, we will have a quilting party. Fiona will come, and we will all finish her mother's quilt together. That is what is right.”

She could only stand there like an idiot, trying to keep the tears from spilling over, her heart ready to burst.

 

The clop-clop of the horse's hooves echoed on the dark ribbon of road as Ted turned the buggy back toward Crossroads. Fiona hugged her jacket closer around her against the evening chill, but the cold air didn't really bother her. She was still warmed by her grandmother's hug when she'd said goodbye to everyone at the farm.

“Cold?” Ted reached behind the seat with his free hand and pulled out a plaid blanket, spreading it over her lap. “Is that better?”

“I'm fine.” The happiness that bubbled up within her wanted to burst free. “I can't tell you what this evening meant to me.”

She glanced back, watching as the yellow lights of the house disappeared behind a row of trees. She could see the reflection of the red battery-powered lantern as it blinked a soft good-night from the back of the buggy.

Ted's arm slid comfortably around her shoulders. “I'm glad it worked out. I take it your grandmother finally talked to you.”

“She did. She said I reminded her of my mother. No one ever said that to me before.” Her throat got tight at the thought. “I guess I didn't realize how much I wanted to hear that.”

“Hannah would be happy that her daughter and her mother are together.”

That didn't seem to need an answer, and she just let the thought settle into her heart. Her mother would be happy. That was a good way of thinking about it, making
her feel the strength of family connection, threading from mother to daughter through the generations.

Ted drew her a little closer, and she rested her head against his shoulder, enjoying the solid strength of him. Despite the chill, the night was perfect, with a nearly full moon riding low over the nearest ridge. The only sound was the clop of the horse's hooves, the creak of the buggy's wheels and the rustle of grass along the road as some night creature passed.

“Look,” Ted said softly.

The buggy's lantern cast its yellow circle on a red fox that stood at the edge of the road, head high, nostrils quivering as it deciphered their scent. Then it was gone in a blur of scarlet, darting off into the shelter of the stubbly field.

“Beautiful.” She tilted her head to look up into his face. “That's not something I'd ever see in San Francisco.”

“I guess not. Do you miss it? The city, I mean.”

“Not a bit.” The realization startled her. “I thought I'd find it lonely here, but instead I feel as if I've come home.”

“That's good.” His face was so close to hers that she felt his breath, stirring the hair at her temple. “You've found family here, to make up for the ones you left behind.”

He didn't understand about her family. He couldn't, because she'd never talked to him about it. Now the silence, the darkness, the sense that the two of them were alone in the world all combined to suggest she could tell him anything.

She paused for a heartbeat or two. “I've been wondering what my life would have been like if my father had sent me back here after my mother died, instead of putting me into foster care.”

“Foster care?” He drew back a little, searching her face in the dim light. “He didn't keep you?”

“He couldn't.” Odd, to be defensive about her father's actions after all this time. “I mean, there he was alone in a strange city, his wife dead, no family to help him. It was the only thing he could do.”

Even in the dim light, she could see his jaw tighten. “Sweetheart, I can think of plenty of other things he might have done—day care, a nanny, sent you back here, either to his family or Hannah's. Seems to me any of those things would have been better than giving you to strangers.”

Sweetheart.
The word echoed in her heart.

“I can't argue about that, because that's what I've been thinking, too. I did go back to live with him, eventually. After he remarried, when my stepmother was pregnant and decided to leave her job, then they took me home with them.”

“Big of them.”

The suppressed anger in Ted's voice caught her by surprise.

“I guess they did the best they could,” she said carefully. Trying to be fair; she always tried to be fair. “It can't have been easy, adjusting to a six-year-old who'd been
raised by other people. Once their children came along—well, they were a complete family without me.”

“And you were on the outside, looking in.”

Again she sensed his anger and was comforted that it was on her behalf. She looked up, finding his face only a breath away from hers, and for an instant lost track of what she was going to say.

“It's all right. It doesn't matter to me the way it used to.” She thought about the scripture passage he'd mentioned earlier. “Maybe, in a way I haven't yet seen, God means it for good.”

“You have family now. People to care about you.” His voice went to a low rumble on the words. “That's good, isn't it?”

Yes, she did have that. Somehow she didn't want to confess to him that she was still wary of all those people who seemed to want to care about her, a little afraid of how she felt about them. That was cowardly, wasn't it?

“Fiona?” He touched her cheek gently, caressingly.

Her heart was beating so loudly that surely he could hear it. “Don't—don't you have to hang on to the reins with one hand, at least?”

“Nope.” He smoothed her hair back, the touch of his fingers sending waves of awareness through her. “Sophie could take us home if I didn't touch the reins at all.”

He was going to kiss her. That was what she wanted, wasn't it? So why did she feel as if she trembled on the edge of a precipice, ready to topple over in an instant?

Then his lips found hers, and she stopped thinking at all. Only feeling—feeling the tenderness of his kiss, the strength of his arms around her, the steady beat of his heart under her hand as she turned into his arms. There was a precipice, and she was falling, head over heels. Falling in love with him.

H
e was going to see Fiona on business. Wasn't he? Ted walked past Ruth's store, aware of an urge to quicken his steps as he drew closer.

Sure he was. Never mind that he'd have found some excuse to seek her out anyway, after last night.

He hadn't been able to dismiss the memory of that kiss. That alone should have been enough to set the cautious habits of years on high alert. He hadn't felt this way since—well, maybe since the thrill of his first love.

Caution was probably a good idea. He and Fiona were very different, and she was struggling with who she was and where she belonged. Still, she wouldn't have kissed him the way she had unless she was interested.

So, he was combining business with pleasure. He had to talk to Fiona again about his continuing search for the vandals. He frowned. They'd struck again, probably at
about the time he was taking the slow route back to Fiona's in the buggy.

The front of Fiona's house came into view. She'd planted bronze and yellow mums in pots along the porch recently. Every time he saw the place she seemed more settled. The sign he'd made for her looked good—as if it were where it belonged, too.

A buggy was drawn up to the front of the house. Well, what did he think—that she'd be sitting there waiting for him to come along? Naturally she'd be busy, with her practice increasing the way it was.

Aaron Yoder leaned against the buggy. The young man might have looked relaxed, but Ted detected the nervous strain in his shoulders and the way he rubbed his hand up and down his pant leg.

“Aaron.” He braced one hand against the buggy. “Your Susie in seeing the midwife?”

Aaron nodded, swallowing. “Susie thinks it will be time soon.”

“That's good news. I'm sure she's tired of waiting.”

“Ja.” He managed a smile. “Tired. She rearranges the clothes for the little one a dozen times a day. She's had me move the cradle every five minutes, it seems.”

“It'll be over soon.” He clapped Aaron's shoulder. “Then she'll be too busy with the baby to think of anything else.”

Even as he spoke, the door opened. Susie emerged, looking so pregnant it was a wonder she could move. Aaron sprang toward her to help her down the steps,
glancing up at Fiona, who'd come onto the porch after Susie.

“It will be soon, ja?”

She smiled, her hand on Susie's back. “Soon, but not today. Probably not tomorrow, either, but you can never be sure. Babies arrive when they want to, not when we want them to.”

Susie smoothed her hand over her belly. “This one isn't listening to me, that's for sure, or he or she would already be here.”

“Come back in a week, if nothing has happened by then. Or send Aaron for me, anytime.”

The expression on Fiona's face when she watched the pregnant woman was something to see. It wasn't just the devotion to her patient—Ted had seen that before. This was a sense of pure pleasure, as if anticipating the birth gave her as much joy as it gave the parents.

He helped Aaron maneuver his very pregnant wife up to the buggy seat. “Take good care of her, Aaron.”

“I will that.” Aaron tucked a blanket across Susie's knees, then clucked to the mare, and they moved slowly off.

Ted turned toward Fiona. “You look as happy as if she were related to you.”

“Do I?” The smile lingered on her face. “I guess I do feel that way about all of my moms. It's such a joy, especially when everything's going well and the parents are so eager. But even when it's a difficult situation, there's still that pure joy of helping new life into the world.”

Each time he saw her, he found more things to admire about this woman. “I don't know much about midwives, but I'd say you must be one of the best.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “The people who trained me set a high standard. Some of them were true pioneers in having midwifery accepted by the medical establishment.” She turned toward the house. “Will you come in?”

“I think I'd better.” He followed her up the steps.

She turned a questioning look on him. “Is this a professional call, then?”

“In part.” He held the door open for her. “I'd have come anyway, to tell you how much I appreciated being with you last night.”

Her cheeks flooded with color as rosy as the top she wore. “And I appreciated your support, more than I can say.” She gestured toward the door to her office. “Come in here. I don't expect any other patients this afternoon.”

He glanced around as he entered, taking his time, taking it all in. His brother's bookcases were filled with books now, except for the ones closest to Fiona's desk, which carried neat stacks of pamphlets on childbirth. The graceful windows that were the first thing he'd noticed about the house were filled now with potted geraniums on one side and African violets on the other.

“Nice, very nice.” Everything from the flowers to the braided rug on the polished floor to the comfortable padded visitor's chairs to the small fountain that gurgled on a side table seemed designed to set a nervous client
at ease. It was a far cry from his utilitarian police station. “You've made this very welcoming.”

“My Flanagan aunt and cousins helped.” She sat down—not behind the desk, but in one of the pair of chairs, gesturing him to the other one. “Tell me what's going on. Is this about the vandals?”

He nodded. “They hit again last night, probably about the time we were on our way home.”

If the reminder of that ride home had embarrassed her a few minutes earlier, she was probably determined not to show it again. “What happened?” Apprehension darkened her eyes. “I hope it wasn't too bad.”

“It could have been, but luckily they were heard.” He frowned absently at the twined strands of the braided rug. With a bit of luck, he hoped this business with the vandals would arrange itself as neatly. “They drove a vehicle through the fence out at Mose Stetler's place—you remember him, the Amish carpenter?”

“Of course. What happened?”

“I guess everyone's nerves have been on edge lately. Mose heard them and went running out. They'd ripped through what was left of the vegetable garden and were headed toward the barn.” His jaw clenched. He could almost see the scene as Mose had described it. “Before he could reach them, they'd smashed a burning lantern into the hay he had stacked in the shed next to the barn.”

Fiona's hands clasped, as if in prayer. “Is he all right? Did the barn catch fire?”

“He got there in time to beat it out. A couple of
minutes later and he might have been too late.” He thumped his palm on the chair's arm. “They're escalating. I've got to catch them before they hurt someone.”

“I know.” She leaned toward him, her face distressed. “I wish I could help more, but I've already told you everything I saw.”

“One thing—maybe they're getting a little overconfident. They didn't bother with the dark sweatshirts this time. Mose caught a glimpse of a local high school jacket.”

She drew in a breath, something startled and aware in her face.

“Fiona, what is it?” He swung toward her so that their knees were almost touching. “What did you remember?”

“Not anything from the night Ruth's store was vandalized.” She was shaking her head, as if to push a memory away. “It's nothing. It must have been a coincidence.”

He clasped her hand firmly in his. “Tell me what it is. Let me decide if it's a coincidence.”

“At the auction.” Her gaze was troubled. “I think I might have mentioned it to you. There were four boys—they went running by, jostling me, on purpose, I thought. Three wore high school jackets, and the fourth was Amish.”

The moment she'd said the words, Fiona regretted it. She could see by Ted's expression that he thought this meant something, but how could it? There were probably hundreds of teenage boys in the township, and running around was what kids did best.

“Did you recognize any of them?” That was his crisp cop's voice.

She shook her head. “I didn't know many people in town then. I certainly didn't know them.”

“What about now? Picture them in your mind. Have you seen any of them since?”

She pulled her hand away from his, clasping them both in her lap. “It was just a glimpse. If I did see them now, I probably wouldn't recognize them.”

“You're not trying.” He leaned toward her, face intent. “Picture it happening again. What did you see?”

She closed her eyes briefly, hoping that would convince him that she was trying. “Blue jeans, high-school jackets. Those pricey sneakers all the kids seem to wear. I didn't really get a look at anyone's face—they went by too quickly.”

“What about the Amish kid?”

Frustration gripped her. “I just saw him from the back. He looked like any Amish boy—dark clothes, fair hair under a black hat. It could have been anyone.”

He leaned back in the chair, and she didn't care for the way he was studying her. “Maybe if you took a walk around the high school, you'd spot one of them.”

“I couldn't possibly identify anyone. And even if somebody did look familiar, you can't arrest him on that.” He wasn't leaning toward her any longer, but she still had the sense that he was pressuring her.

“I wouldn't be relying on that for an arrest, but it might give me a lead. At the moment, I have nothing.”

“You haven't told anyone that I reported the vandals in Ruth's store, have you? You said you'd keep it quiet. But if I went wandering around the high school, it wouldn't take people long to figure it out.”

“You have a point.” He frowned. “That would certainly alert them. I want to catch them, not just scare them off. Look, what about glancing through the school yearbook?”

“How could I possibly pick anyone out that way?” She wanted to shake him until he accepted that. “Even if I did, there's not a shred of evidence that the boys at the auction are the vandals.”

“Maybe not, but it's odd, three high school boys ramming around the auction in the company of an Amish kid. That doesn't often happen.”

“I still can't—”

“What's really going on here, Fiona?” Ted planted both hands on the arms of the chair. “You're stonewalling everything I suggest. I agree, this might be a wild-goose chase, but I have to do something. Don't you want to help?”

Her throat went tight. She hated arguing with him, hated feeling that she was letting him down, and she had a feeling he wasn't going to understand her reasons.

“Look, it's not that I don't want to help. It's just that I'm finally starting to feel as if I belong here. You of all people know how difficult it's been.”

He tried to interrupt, but she swept on, riding a wave of determination not to lose what she'd found.

“If the Amish were practically ready to boycott me
because I'm Hannah's daughter, what do you think they'll do if I turn in one of their kids for vandalism? And what about the rest of the community? They'd go right back to seeing me as an outsider, interfering in their business.” Maybe that was selfish, but she risked losing everything she'd built here.

His jaw looked as hard as iron. “You can't let that keep you from doing your duty.”

“It's not my duty. Maybe it's yours, but it's not mine.” Why couldn't he see that she only wanted to live in peace?

He shoved himself out of the chair and stood for a moment, towering over her. Just looking at her. Finally he shook his head.

“I know how much you want to belong here. But if you're going to accept the advantages of belonging, I'd think you'd be willing to accept the responsibilities, too. I guess you're not.”

He turned and walked out. She didn't call him back.

 

Fiona hung up the phone and walked slowly toward the hall, touching the lush blossoms of the geraniums on the windowsill as she passed them. Her office had turned out well, but now she couldn't think of that without remembering Ted admiring it. Somehow all of her thoughts of this place were tangled up with him.

And now with the disappointment he'd shown yesterday when she'd refused to help him.

Not refused, she corrected quickly. She couldn't help him. Didn't he understand that?

She knew perfectly well why she'd made that call to San Francisco. She'd needed to talk to her friend, to someone from that other life, who'd understand why she'd reacted the way she had to Ted's suggestion.

Tracy had been supportive, and while Fiona was talking to her she'd felt perfectly justified. Unfortunately, once she'd hung up, all those rationalizations sounded hollow. Was she really refusing to take on the responsibility she should for her new community?

Frustrated with herself, and more than frustrated with Ted, she grabbed her handbag, making sure she had her cell phone, and went out the door, locking it behind her. She'd walk over to Ruth's store and have a chat. Maybe that would reassure her that she was doing the right thing, not risking what she had here.