Restless Hearts

She nodded. “I’m sure they will.” She hesitated, and then decided she’d better say the rest of what she’d been thinking. “You know, I thought maybe you’d change your mind and tell them not to come.”

He looked surprised. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, you weren’t exactly happy with me earlier.”

“That doesn’t mean I’d make things difficult for you. Maybe you have something to learn about folks around here.”

Those words might have been said snidely, but she couldn’t detect anything other than genuine concern in his voice. Concern, and perhaps even kindness.

“Maybe so.” She struggled to speak over the sudden lump in her throat. “This move is a big change in my life. I know I have to adjust some of my attitudes if I’m going to make a go of it here.”

His lips twitched in a slight smile. “You’ll be fine. You have something to offer. Just give yourself a chance. And give us one, too.”

The gentleness in his voice drew her. She looked up to find his intense gaze so focused on her face that it seemed to generate warmth. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t even seem to draw breath. Was it the afternoon sunlight dazzling her eyes, or was it the man?

And then he took a step back. It was hard to tell with that stolid face of his, but she had a feeling he felt just as shocked as she did.

Chapter Three

Her mother’s box now sat on her brand-new dresser in her own bedroom in the house in Crossroads. Fiona touched it, smiling a little at the sound of hammering from downstairs.

She’d moved in yesterday, in spite of Nolie and Gabe’s repeated urging to stay with them until the work was completely finished. Much as she’d appreciated their kindness, she’d given in to the need to be here, on the spot, supervising the renovations.

She had a bedroom and a kitchen—at the moment she didn’t need anything else. Once she’d found time to paint the room that was going to be her living room, to say nothing of getting some furniture in it, she’d be ready to entertain. She could invite her Flanagan cousins over.

The past few days had been busy ones, notable only for the absence of one person. Ted hadn’t dropped by again. Maybe he was occupied with township business. Or maybe he’d been as shocked by that moment of rapport as she had been.

In any event, it was fine that he hadn’t been around. She’d been able to write the incident off as nothing—just a random flare of attraction that she could quickly forget. She had nothing in common with a man like Ted Rittenhouse, and even if she’d wanted it, she had no time in her life for romance.

Making a success of her practice had to be the only thing on her mind now, and she’d already made a good start. An invitation had been relayed by Aaron from his wife and had resulted in her first visit to an Amish home.

The simple, painted interior with its large, square rooms and handmade furniture had charmed her. When she’d commented on the beauty of a hand-carved wooden rocking chair, young Susie had shrugged off the compliment, saying the chair was “for use, not for pretty.”

She’d been surprised to find Susie already in her thirty-fourth week, but she learned that the couple had only recently returned to the family farm after living in an Amish community in Ohio where Aaron was apprenticed to a master carpenter. Susie was healthy, happy and eagerly looking forward to the birth, and especially to having her baby at home. Fiona had come away with a sense of satisfaction that she would provide the kind of birthing experience the couple wanted.

And happy that she was wanted and needed—she couldn’t deny that. It was a step toward belonging. And another step might be—

She lifted the lid on the box, her fingers touching the perfectly matched corners. Here was all she had of the mother she’d never known. An Amish cap and apron, put away never to be worn again. A white baby gown, edged with delicate embroidery. And the patches for a quilt, each one sewn with stitches so tiny they were practically invisible.

She carried the pieces to the spool bed which was her latest purchase and spread them out, not sure how they were intended to fit together. Each piece was a rectangle composed of smaller square and rectangular pieces in rich, solid colors. The deep pink shade that predominated made her wonder if her mother might have intended the quilt for a daughter. If so, she’d never know.

But she could have the quilt. She didn’t have the skill to put it together, but the quilters at Ruth’s store did. She could imagine it gracing her bed, symbolizing her ties to her new community.

She gathered the pieces, slipped them into a bag and went quickly down the steps, greeting the carpenters, amazed as always by how much they’d accomplished. The rooms were taking shape before her eyes, and her dream was closer to reality every day.

She hurried over to the general store, eager now to set this project in motion. Ruth looked up when the bell tinkled, but she was busy with a customer, so Fiona waved and went on through to the workroom. Emma Brandt greeted her with a smile, while two older women she hadn’t seen before glanced up, nodded and bent over the quilt frame again.

“Emma, I’d like to show you something.” She approached the quilt frame slowly. It wasn’t too late to change her mind, but Emma was nodding. Waiting.

“Yes?”

For a moment her hand held the bag shut. This would be the first time she’d shown the quilt squares to anyone, and she felt an odd reluctance to have them out of her possession. Shaking the emotion off, she drew out the fabric squares.

“I have these quilt pieces, and I wondered if you’d be able to put them together for me.”

Emma pushed her glasses into place and took them, turning them slowly in her capable hands. “A log cabin design,” she said. “The colors are lovely. This will make a fine quilt for your new bed.”

She was getting used to the fact that everyone seemed to know everything about her. It seemed the rumor mill was always grinding in Crossroads. Emma could probably tell her where she’d bought the bed and how much she’d paid for it.

“That’s what I thought, although I don’t even know how the squares fit together.” She may as well admit her ignorance up front.

Emma quickly moved some of the blocks together. “The traditional manner would be to arrange them like this, so that the darker colors make diagonal lines across the surface.”

The quilt seemed to come to life under her hands, and Fiona could visualize it on her bed. Maybe she could find curtains in one of the solid colors.

“That would be perfect. Do you have time to finish it for me?”

“I’m sure we can.” Emma picked up one of the pieces, examining it closely. “The workmanship is very fine, uh-huh. Did you make it yourself?”

Fiona shook her head. “It’s all I can do to sew a button on. These were given to me. I was told that my mother made them.”

“Ah.” Emma’s look of sympathy said she understood. “Then very special the quilt will be for you.”

“Yes.” She willed away the lump in her throat. “It will be very special.”

One of the older women rose from the quilting frame. She walked toward them, her faded blue eyes magnified by the thick glasses she wore. She reached for the quilt pieces, turning them over in work-worn hands.

Emma said something in the low German that Fiona had learned was the common tongue of the Amish. For a moment the older woman stood frozen. Then she said something that made Emma give an audible gasp.

Their expressions startled Fiona. “Emma, is something wrong?”

Emma shook her head, not looking up. Then, so quickly Fiona hardly understood what was happening, all three women folded up their work and scurried away without a word.

By evening, Fiona was feeling thoroughly exasperated with all things Amish. Ruth had had no explanation for what happened and seemed as mystified by the women’s behavior as Fiona. She’d promised to talk to Emma and try to smooth things over as soon as she could.

But that hadn’t been the worst of it. The carpenters had left for lunch as usual, but they hadn’t come back. They hadn’t sent word, either. They were just gone, with tools left lying where they’d put them down.

Clearly she’d offended someone, but how, she didn’t know. She’d have been happy to apologize for whatever it was, but since she couldn’t get in touch with any of them that was impossible.

She walked slowly from one unfinished room to another. What if they didn’t come back? Panic touched her. Would she be able to find someone else to finish the work? She pulled her cardigan tighter around her. She’d had her share of feeling isolated and helpless in her life, and she didn’t like the sensation.

A knock on the door came as a relief. At last, maybe someone was coming to explain. She yanked the door open to find Ted on her porch, frowning down at her.

“We have to talk,” he said.

She nodded, stood back for him to enter, and gestured down the hall. “Come back to the kitchen. It’s the only finished room downstairs.”

She followed him down the hallway, his tall frame blocking out the dim light she had left on in the office. Reaching the kitchen, she switched the light on and the room sprang to life.

Originally it had been one of those huge, inconvenient rooms that had probably given the cook fallen arches, but at some point it had been renovated. Now the stove, sink and refrigerator made a convenient work triangle, and her few dishes were arranged in the closest of the glass-fronted cabinets.

She started to offer Ted a seat, but he’d already planted large fists on the round pine table. And he didn’t look as if he planned to sit down and relax any time soon. He wore jeans and a blue sweater that made his eyes even bluer, but from the way he leaned toward her, he didn’t seem any less intimidating than when he wore the uniform.

He didn’t need to glare at her as if she’d committed a cardinal sin. A little flare of anger warmed her.

“You may as well stop looking at me that way. I’ve obviously made a mistake and offended someone, but I don’t have the slightest idea what I’ve done.” She folded her arms.

Ted’s face was at its most wooden. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Hannah Stolzfus’s daughter?”

For a moment she could only stare at him. How could he—“How do you know that? I didn’t tell anyone here.”

“It’s true, then? You’re actually her child?” The passion in his voice reverberated through the room.

She hugged herself tighter as if to shield herself from him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, my mother’s name was Hannah Stolzfus. She died shortly after I was born, so I never knew her, but I’ve seen the birth certificate. That was her name.”

His jaw seemed to harden, if that was possible. “Why did you come here?”

She looked at him blankly. “You already know why I came here. To open my practice. What on earth is going on? Why did those women walk out of Ruth’s today after they saw my quilt pieces? Why did the carpenters leave?”

“You really don’t understand, do you?” Frustration edged his tone.

“Understand what?” She had plenty of her own frustration to go around. “Why is everyone talking in riddles?”

“All right. No riddles.” His hands pressed against the table so hard it might collapse under his weight. “Just straightforward English words. Emma Brandt is the younger sister of Hannah Stolzfus. And the older woman who looked at those quilt pieces and recognized them is her mother, Louise Stolzfus.”

Her mother, Louise Stolzfus. My grandmother. She could say the words in her head, but not out loud. She tried to stop the inward shaking that she couldn’t let him see.

“I didn’t know.” She spaced the words out clearly. “Don’t you understand? I had no idea anyone would recognize those quilt pieces. No idea that Emma Brandt was any relation to my mother. No idea that my mother’s family was even still around here.”

Ted obviously wasn’t convinced. He straightened, folding his arms. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t expect anything of you!” She snapped the words and immediately regretted it. Getting angry at Ted wouldn’t help matters any.

Please, Lord, help me deal with this—with him—in the right way.

“Look, I’m sorry.” She thrust her hand into her hair, shoving it back from her face. “Can’t we talk about this sensibly, instead of sniping at each other?”

His eyes were watchful, but he jerked a reluctant nod. “All right. Talk.”

She frowned, trying to get her mind around everything he’d said. “Are you sure about this? Emma is surely too young to be my mother’s sister. Maybe it’s a different family altogether.”

Some of the harshness seemed to go out of his face. “I’m sure. Amish families are often spread out over a lot of years. Hannah was the eldest, fifteen years older than Emma, who is the youngest.”

“I see.” She had to admit he seemed sure of his facts. “Even if what you say is true, I’m not sure what all the fuss is about. I’m sorry for startling them with the quilt, and obviously I’ll get someone else to finish it for me.”

“And you think that will resolve the problem?” He looked at her as if she were a creature from another planet.

The anger flickered again, but under it was a desolation she wouldn’t give in to.

“I don’t know what else I can do or say. I didn’t come here looking for my mother’s family, and I don’t particularly want anything to do with them. Maybe we can just chalk it up to an unfortunate coincidence and get on with our lives.”

Ted had to remind himself that a city-bred creature like Fiona had no idea what she was talking about when it came to family relationships in a place like Crossroads. He’d pity her, if her coming wasn’t creating such a problem for people he cared about, people he had to protect.

“Did you actually think you could come here and not run into your mother’s family? Why else would you pick Crossroads Township to settle in, if not to find them?”

She shrugged, hugging her slim frame as if she needed protection from him. Her face was very pale, but her gray eyes blazed with life. With anger, probably aimed at him.

“I came to this area because it had a need for nurse-midwives, that’s why. And because I wanted to get to know the Flanagans, my father’s relatives. I didn’t have any ulterior motives, and I certainly have no desire to intrude on my mother’s family.”

“Why not?” He shot the question at her. “You admit you came to get to know your father’s family. Why not your mother’s?”

Her lips tightened into a firm line. She was probably thinking this wasn’t his business, but he intended to know the truth if he had to stand here all night.

“Because they rejected her.” The words burst out of her. “My mother. They turned away from her because she married an outsider. Why would I want a relationship with them now? They haven’t bothered about me all these years.”

“That’s not how it was.” He remembered all he’d heard, all he’d known. “She’s the one who left. She deserted them, not the other way around, and they’ve never recovered from that.”

“How do you know so much about it?” Suspicion edged her tone.

Emma had only been three when her sister left, but she’d remembered how her mother had aged overnight, how all the happiness seemed to go out of the house with Hannah. And he remembered how she’d cried in his arms when she’d told him she couldn’t do the same thing to her parents that her sister had done.

He stiffened. Some things Fiona didn’t have the right to know, especially that.

“It’s a small community,” he said. “I don’t think you realize how small. I’ve been a friend of the family for a long time. I know how much the Stolzfus family grieved when Hannah left. I don’t want to see them hurt again.”

“I don’t want to hurt them. I don’t want to have anything to do with them.” She thrust her hands through her reddish-blond mane as if she’d pull it out in her frustration. “Can’t you just accept that?”

He watched her steadily, trying to read the truth in those gray eyes. Did she really believe what she was saying?

“No,” he said slowly. “I can’t accept that. How can I, when all of your actions have brought you to a place where you’re bound to run into them? You say it’s not intentional, and maybe that’s so. But the results are the same, and people I care about are already hurting as a result.”

“I’m sorry.” She stood very straight, facing him, her face pale and set. “Sorry if this hurts them, and sorry you don’t believe me. But they rejected my mother, and—”

“Will you stop saying that?” He took a step toward her, as if his very nearness might convince her to believe him. “They did not turn her away.”

Her face was like stone. “I read about the Amish, once I was old enough to understand that’s what my mother had been. I read about how they shun people who don’t do what they’re supposed to.”

“That proves the old saying, doesn’t it?” He sighed in frustration. Did he have to give the woman a crash course in what it meant to be Amish? “‘A little learning is a dangerous thing.’ It’s true that someone might be separated from the congregation to help him see the error of his ways, but that doesn’t apply in this case.”

“What do you mean?” Doubt flickered in her face.

“Hannah was seventeen when she left, not yet a baptized member of the church, so she didn’t break any vows by what she did. I’m sure her parents didn’t approve of her choice, but if she’d stayed, they would have made peace with it. They never had the chance. If she’d come back, anytime, they probably would have welcomed her.”

Fiona shook her head stubbornly. “How can you say that? They never attempted to get in touch with her after she left. And after she died, they never tried to find me. My whole life, I’ve never heard a word from them.”

Her pain reached out and grabbed his heart, and for a moment he couldn’t speak. The urge to comfort her was so strong he had to fight it back. He could pity her, yes, but his loyalties lay elsewhere.

“Fiona, what makes you think they knew you existed?”

He saw that hit her, saw the doubt and pain in her eyes, and thought he’d be a long time regretting that he’d put it there. But it had to be done. This was a bad situation, and an impulsive act on her part could make it even worse.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Could be you think I’m interfering, and maybe I am. But the best thing you can do now is to stay away from the family. You don’t begin to understand them, and you can’t judge them by your California standards. Just leave them alone, before you cause each other more pain than you can bear.”

Chapter Four

Twenty-four hours had passed since that difficult confrontation with Ted, and Fiona still hadn’t shaken off the feelings it had brought on. She dried the few dishes that sat in the dish drainer, glancing out the kitchen window as she did so.

It was dusk already. Yellow light glowed from the windows of the few houses behind hers, partially obscured by the trees, looking distant and lonely. If she’d been looking for privacy when she came here, she’d certainly found it.

In more ways than one, it seemed. The carpenters hadn’t turned up again today, and when she’d gone to the store to speak to Ruth about it, she found that the quilters were missing as well.

Ruth had been sympathetic, but her only advice had been to be patient. Sooner or later, the situation would resolve itself. Until then, there was no point in pressing.

She could admire the older woman’s patience, but not emulate it. The need to get on with things drove her to pace across the kitchen and back again.

Lord, I don’t know what to do. Was Ted right about me? Did I really come here because I wanted to be accepted by my mother’s family? If so, it looks as if Your answer to that is no. Please, guide me now.

She blinked back unaccustomed tears, appalled at herself. There was little point in crying over something that had been over and done with before she was born. She couldn’t influence it now.

“And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”

The verse from Romans had always resonated in her heart, but how did she even know that God had called her here? She’d told herself she was following God’s leading for her life when she’d made the decision, but if Ted was right about her, maybe she’d only been following her own unconscious desires.

She hung the dish towel on the wooden rack, aligning it as neatly as if that were the most important thing in the world right now. Well, maybe not important, but at least it was something she could control, unlike everything else that had happened lately.

A noise from the unpaved drive that ran behind the house startled her, sending her pulse beating a little more rapidly. Someone was there, but she didn’t expect anyone. She went quickly to the door, pulling aside the lace curtain that screened the glass panel so she could peer out.

If a UFO had landed, she couldn’t have been more surprised. An Amish buggy had pulled up next to the back step. The horse dropped its head to nibble at the sparse grass. A slim girl in a black cape slid down, turning to say something to the person who held the reins. In a moment he was down, too, and both of them headed toward the door.

They stepped into the pool of light from the lamp above the door. Young, both of them, probably not more than sixteen. She’d never seen either of them before.

She took a breath. If the Amish community intended to tell her to leave, they certainly wouldn’t send two teenagers. She opened the door.

“Hello. I’m Fiona Flanagan. Are you looking for me?”

“Yes, we come to see you.” The girl, who apparently was the spokesperson, gave a short nod, her dark bonnet bobbing. She had a pretty, heart-shaped face, a pert, turned-up nose and a pair of lively blue eyes. “I am Rachel Stolzfus. We are cousins.”

“Cousins?” For a moment she could only gape at the girl, and then she stepped back, holding the door wide. “Please, come in. I’m sorry, did you say you are my cousin?”

“Cousin, yes.” The girl, Rachel, came in and then spun toward her, her black cape swinging out. “This is my friend Jonah Felder.”

The boy nodded, flushed to the tips of his ears. He entered, but stood just inside the door, as if ready to bolt back out in an instant.

“I’m happy to meet both of you.” And more than a little puzzled. “Won’t you sit down?” She gestured toward the straight-backed kitchen chairs. “I’m afraid the rest of the house isn’t ready for visitors.”

Rachel shook her head at the offer of seats. “We cannot stay long. We are on our way home from visiting Jonah’s parents.”

She took off her bonnet, though, revealing corn-silk blond hair parted in the center and pulled back into a knot that was covered by a prayer cap.

“But I had to stop and see my new cousin.” Her eyes sparkled. “I wanted to be the first, except for Aunt Emma and my grandmother.”

Something tightened inside Fiona at that. Her grandmother hadn’t even wanted to look at her, much less speak to her. Still, that wasn’t Rachel’s fault.

“I’m glad you did, but I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble.”

“No one will guess that we stopped here.” She darted a glance toward Jonah, as if commanding his silence. Her black cape swung open, revealing the deep rose of the dress she wore beneath.

Fiona’s heart clenched. “Your dress is the same shade as the rose in my quilt pieces.”

Rachel brushed the full skirt with her hand. “Maybe my aunt Hannah had a dress like this. It’s only after joining the church that women wear the dark colors. When a garment has no further use, it is cut up for quilting.”

“I see.” She did see, in a way. A picture of the mother she’d never known was beginning to form in her mind—a smiling girl whose rose dress brought out the roses in her cheeks. “Tell me, how are we related?”