Where Shadows Meet Read online

  “You’ve already chosen the brat over me.” He couldn’t believe it— couldn’t comprehend that she’d defy him so completely. The unfamiliar emotion shaking him was fear. Fear of losing her love, fear of their perfect life changing.

  She squeezed his hand. “No, I haven’t. I can balance things. Give me a chance, Reece. Give us a chance.”

  Staring into her pleading face, he weakened. Maybe she was right. She was too soft to do what had to be done. “Okay, but you have to have your priorities right. I’m the man of the house and I expect you to pay me the respect I deserve. Understood?”

  “Understood.” She threw her arms around him and rained kisses on his face.

  Which was just the way it should be.

  HANNAH YODELED A tune under her breath as she cut the thread on the last curtain panel. The baby’s room would be finished as soon as she hung the curtains. With difficulty, she rose from the chair and carried the panels from the sewing room into the small room off the hall. Everything was in place. The tiny sleepers and Onesies lay folded in the dresser drawers, and she’d finished the last pair of knitted booties. The hand-stitched quilt she’d made lay folded at the foot of the crib. Soon her little one would be safe in her arms.

  The sunlight streaming through the window lit the yellow walls with even more color. A crib mobile swung in the breeze above the bed. It was all perfect, or rather, it would be in two weeks when the baby arrived. Hannah put her hand on her swollen belly and felt the child kick against her hand. “Soon, little one.”

  Reece had chosen for them not to learn the baby’s gender, but she felt in her heart it was a girl. Her smile faded. She’d never imagined marriage could be like walking through a field of buried explosives. Reece had a lot of pain inside, pain she’d failed to soothe. If inflicting pain on her soothed his, maybe it was her lot in life. A lot she deserved, after what she’d done.

  Moving carefully, she climbed onto a chair and hung the curtains. The soft color looked perfect against the walls. It was only when she glanced at her watch that she caught her breath. It was nearly six, and she hadn’t even started dinner. Reece would be furious. As if on cue, his whistle sounded on the stairs outside the apartment door, and she heard Reece call her name. She should have had dinner ready. He was always angrier when he was hungry.

  Holding the back of the chair, she managed to get down in one piece. She knew she looked as big as a beached whale. Reece hated her cumbersome size. A sharp cramp struck, and she bit back a groan so he wouldn’t hear. He hated complainers. Could this be labor?

  He pounded on the door. “Hannah, I forgot my key.”

  When had dread replaced delight at his appearance? After that first slap, she’d been sure there would be no more. He was always so sorry, but not sorry enough to keep his fists to himself. Her mother would have said she’d made her own bed. And she had. But she’d never expected that bed to be so full of nails. There was no going back. At least he’d let her get her GED the first year, and now, after five years of marriage, she would soon have her college degree as well. He was a good man at heart.

  The baby would make everything better. They’d be a real family. Maybe Reece’s obsession with her would ease. She would have joy in her life that eclipsed the heartache. The baby would change everything. It was her only hope.

  “I’m coming,” she gasped out, still in the grip of the contraction. The strength of it surprised her. Maybe this was the real thing. She managed to get to the door and fumble with the dead bolt. It was always a little stiff. She threw open the door to see him stalking away in his police uniform.

  She rushed after him to stand at the top of the wide staircase down to the street. “I’m here, Reece.”

  He turned around and mounted the steps again. He kissed her, and she clung to him as another contraction took her. Breathe, don’t let him see yet. She couldn’t explain her panic. Reece would take care of her. He was a take charge kind of guy. He’d get her suitcase and make sure she got through this.

  He nuzzled her neck. “I’m starved. What did my little wife fix me?” He raised his head. “I don’t smell anything cooking. Dinner isn’t even started, is it?” Disapproval dripped from his words.

  “I—I think I’m in labor,” she gasped as another contraction hit. She grabbed the top of the banister for support.

  “Don’t make excuses. The baby isn’t due for another two weeks. You were too busy playing in the baby’s room to think about me, weren’t you? I’m disappointed in you, Hannah.”

  “No, really, Reece. Here. Feel. I think it’s really labor.” She tried to put his hand on her belly, but he jerked away. Fear battered at her, but she tried to stifle it. He wouldn’t hurt her when she was pregnant.

  “Is this how it’s going to be when the baby comes? You all wrapped up in the kid and never paying me any attention?” His eyes glittered, and he grabbed her arm. His fingers pressed into her flesh.

  She managed not to wince. “No, of course not.” She knew the expression on his face. If she had somewhere to go, she’d leave here and never look back. Her anger simmered, but she had to keep it from boiling over. If she lost control, her punishment would be greater. She should soothe and placate him, but she didn’t have the energy. “You’re hurting me, Reece.”

  He dropped his hand, and the flare in his eyes banked to a dim glow. He raked his hand through his hair. “Hannah, you always know how to push my buttons. If you’d honor me like you should, this wouldn’t happen. It’s my duty to train you up properly, but you make the job harder than it should be.”

  Even though she knew he was only manipulating her, she dropped her head. It was true she’d forgotten him today. Some days she wished she could forget him forever. Tears blurred her vision.

  His hand reached out again and caressed her bare arm. He backed her against the wall. His head came down, and he nuzzled her neck again. His touch made bile rise in her throat, and she escaped his grip instead of raising her face for his kiss. She knew it was a mistake when she saw the manic anger blaze into his eyes.

  He stepped toward her, but he didn’t touch her. “I told you right from the start that I wasn’t father material. I want a wife, not a nursemaid. A lover, not a nanny. When that kid comes, we’re not keeping it.”

  Too late she realized he blamed the baby for her brief flash of defiance. She couldn’t let him take her baby. “It won’t happen again, Reece. Really. I’m so sorry,” she babbled.

  Love and anger vied for control of his face. She backed up until she stood at the edge of the stairs. She should have watched her tongue. She lifted her face to him. He could hit her there and not hurt the baby.

  Mottled red had crept up his face. “I should have seen that rebellious streak in you. I’m your husband, Hannah. I know what’s best, but you never seem to listen.”

  “I know you do.” She put her hand up to cup his face. She forced herself to smile. “I’ve got steaks out for dinner. I’ll have them ready in fifteen minutes.”

  His hands gripped her shoulders. “You promised me you wouldn’t put the baby ahead of me, but you’re already doing it.”

  She wrenched away from his painful grip. “I’m not, Reece! You’re the most important person in my life.” Too late, she realized she teetered on the top step. Hannah’s arms pinwheeled out as she struggled to catch the banister, but the staircase was too wide.

  His hands rushed out toward her, but she lost the fight to regain her balance. His hand struck her shoulder, then she was tumbling down the steps. She thought to protect the baby, and she tried to curl into a ball. Her head slammed against the railing, and she saw colors as brilliant as fireworks. Everything rushed by in a blur, the rails and the carpet alternating in her view.

  Protecting her stomach proved impossible. At least she and the baby would be together. In seconds she lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs. Reece’s footsteps rushed toward her, and she tried to scoot away. A vise of pain gripped her stomach, and her vision faded to b
lack. Reece cried out her name in an anguished voice. Something warm trickled between her legs, then the pain blotted out the world.

  THE MACHINES BEEPED in the hospital room. Reece sat in the chair beside Hannah’s bed. His gaze went to the monitors, and he put his head in his hands. She couldn’t die. He’d be lost if she died.

  She stirred, and he looked but her eyes didn’t open. Her hand swept across her stomach, then settled there. A grimace twisted her lips, and he was sorry for the pain she would experience. It might be hard for a while, but she’d come to realize it was better this had happened. His gaze touched her face. Hannah’s long lashes lay on her cheeks. Even pale from the trauma, she was so beautiful. Her tawny hair spread out over the pillow. He loved to plunge his face into her long locks. They were so like his real mother’s, the only happy memory of his childhood. He laid his hand on her forehead and smoothed her hair. It was time for her to wake up. “Hannah,” he said in a firm voice. “Wake up.”

  Her lashes fluttered, and pain contorted her features. “Sleep,” she muttered.

  “You can sleep later. Open your eyes.” A commanding tone usually worked with her.

  She sighed, and her eyes finally opened but remained bleary and unfocused.

  “Look at me, Hannah.”

  She blinked, her gaze sharpening when she took in his face. “Reece. Where am I?”

  “You’re in the hospital, hon.”

  “Hospital? The baby came?” Her hand moved over her stomach again. “Was it a girl?”

  “Hon, the baby died.”

  She rolled her head from side to side. “I want my baby. Give her to me!”

  “She’s dead, love. I’m sorry.”

  “A girl?” Her gaze sharpened again.

  “Yes, but she didn’t make it.” An expression he couldn’t read passed over her face, but she didn’t argue with him again. “Are you in pain? Do you need anything?”

  She struggled to sit up. “Can I have some water?”

  He knew she’d turn to him for comfort. He started to pour some water, but the pitcher was nearly empty. He’d been drinking it through the night while she slept. “Let me get the nurse. I’ll be right back.”

  No one was at the nurses’ station, so he wandered down the hall looking for ice. All he found were patients’ rooms. He finally found an aide in the last room, and she ordered him to cool his heels in the hall while she finished checking her patient’s vitals. She led him back the other way, and he waited while she went to a small room he’d missed.

  He’d been gone nearly twenty minutes by the time he made it back to Hannah’s room. When he pushed open the door, the bed was empty. He thought she was in the bathroom, but the door was open and the light off. “Hannah?” He whirled to look in every corner of the room. The clothes locker stood open, empty of her things. A hospital gown lay on the floor.

  She couldn’t have left. No way could she have passed him in the hall without his noticing. He sprang toward the door and looked down the hall in both directions. An exit sign beckoned from the end opposite the nurses’ station. Beneath it, a door was just closing. He ran down the hall and shoved the door. When it opened, he saw Hannah stepping into an elevator. “Wait!” He rushed to intercept her, but the elevator doors closed before he could get to them. He caught only a glimpse of her stony face looking back at him.

  Where was her obedience, her respect? He jabbed the elevator button several times. “Come on, come on.” When no elevator appeared, he glanced around for the stairs and found the exit. Plunging down the flights, he planned how he would punish her for this. She would be sorry she crossed him. He threw open the first-floor door into a lobby looking out over the parking lot. On the other side of the glass, Hannah was getting into a vehicle—his truck.

  “Stop!” He ran through the lobby and out the door. He had his hand on the truck’s door handle when the vehicle peeled away, tires screeching. His wife turned to look out the window at him. It seemed impossible she’d done this to him. How dare she openly defy him? When had she gotten a key made? Had she been planning this in the past weeks when she’d coaxed him into teaching her to drive? She’d said she would sometimes need to take the baby to the doctor. She’d tricked him.

  Swearing, he dug his cell phone out of his pocket and called his partner on the police force. She had no place to go but home.

  His partner met him in fifteen minutes. They drove at top speed to the apartment and parked on Market Street. Reece bounded up the steps but found only an empty apartment. She’d already been here and left with her suitcase, probably the one packed for the hospital. She’d escaped him, and somehow he knew finding her wouldn’t be easy.

  An unfamiliar sensation washed over him, and he touched his eyes. They were wet. He and Hannah belonged together. He knew with certainty they’d be together again.

  PART TWO

  Five years later

  SIX

  “The Lonestar Quilt is a reminder that we aren’t created to be loners. The Amish prize family and community above all else.”

  HANNAH SCHWARTZ,

  IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts

  Hannah’s gaze wandered the living room of her home, a modern ranch that rambled over a postcard-sized Milwaukee yard. Quilts hung from every wall and also lay draped on quilt racks in every corner. She knew the history of every one, who had made it, the year, the purpose for its creation. They were her children, the only ones she’d ever have. The thought depressed her.

  Angie Wang, Hannah’s publicist and assistant, ticked off the items on her list. “You’ve got an interview with McCall’s Quilting magazine at nine. A camera crew from Channel 6 is coming in forty-five minutes. Tomorrow is even busier with packing to fly to New York to film FOX & Friends.” Near Hannah’s age of thirty-two, Angie looked slim and elegant in her gray pantsuit and coordinating shoes. But then, she was always put together.

  Hannah nodded. The whirlwind success of her book had stunned and humbled her. And sometimes the demands on her time exhausted her. “But what about the book? And the quilt for the cover? You’ve got to slow down the publicity stuff, Angie, just for a few weeks until I can catch my breath.”

  “This opportunity won’t come around again. We have to make hay while the sun shines. You’ll get it done.” Angie dismissed Hannah’s fears with an airy wave of her hand.

  “Yes, I know. We have so much to be thankful for, but I’ve got work to do at the office too. I need to figure out how to work it all in without going insane.” She forced a smile in spite of her fatigue.

  Angie consulted her notebook. “Interview first. The auction isn’t until eleven. We’ll go in long enough for that. I think the staff is throwing a farewell party for you as well.”

  A pang pressed against Hannah’s ribs. The museum had been her family, and she’d miss them all. She’d never guessed that the success of her book, Amish Quilts: a Factual History, would catapult her to such fame. It had been on every major best-seller list for six months, and her publisher was clamoring for the new book’s publication to be moved up. It was like being hit by lightning.

  “You’d better get changed.” Angie stepped to the window and glanced outside. “The mail is here. I’ll get it while you change.”

  Hannah nodded and dumped Spooky, one of her four cats, off her foot. Black with a white marking at his neck, the cat loved to lay on her feet. She quickly changed into the clothes Angie had laid out, a black skirt and chunky gray sweater with tasteful pearls. Angie had tried to get her to spice up her wardrobe, but Hannah insisted on maintaining her image as an academic, and her publicist eventually quit hounding her. Hannah checked her hair and found the French twist still intact.

  When she stepped back into the living room, she found Angie going through the mail. “Anything interesting?” she asked.

  “Looks like a personal letter,” Angie said, holding out an envelope.

  “It’s from my aunt.” She opened the envelope and discovered it held another envelope a
nd a letter. She pulled them both out, and her gaze fell on the inside envelope—one bearing familiar bold handwriting. Reece’s writing. The envelope burned her hands, and she dropped it onto the floor as the familiar bitterness burned like bile.

  The dark letters shouted at Hannah. Her limbs froze.

  “What’s wrong?” Angie asked. She stepped to Hannah’s side. “Who’s it from?”

  “Don’t touch it!” Hannah had hoped never to see that handwriting again. Just looking at it brought Reece’s harsh voice to her head. Her hands curled into fists. If she ever saw him again, she’d kill him. If not for him, her baby girl would be with her now.

  Angie’s dark eyes widened. “Is it that bad?”

  “My—my husband.” Hannah’s limbs trembled with the strength of her rage. “I don’t want to see anything he has to say. I’d hoped he’d never find me here.”

  Angie gave her a speculative look. “You’re married? You’ve never told me.”

  “We’ve been separated for five years. I guess it’s possible he filed for divorce and charged me with desertion.” She should be so lucky.

  “You’d better read it.” Angie scooped it up off the floor. “What do you have to be afraid of?”

  Hannah didn’t reply. She stared, immobile, at the letter.

  “Oh, Hannah, was he abusive?”

  Hannah took a step back. “I can’t talk about it.”

  “Let’s make some of your fabulous meadow tea before the reporter gets here. We’ll read the letter together and it will be okay. You’ll see. He can’t hurt you now.”

  “You don’t know Reece,” Hannah blurted. She took a deep breath and held out her hand. “I’ll read it now.” The paper crackled in her hand. When she removed the single sheet of paper, a picture fluttered to the ground, and Angie retrieved it. Hannah didn’t look at it. She just put it facedown on top of her desk. First things first. Reece was sure to plead for her to come back. It had taken him five years to find her, and she’d begun to hope that her hidey-hole would stay secure. Or that he’d moved on. She’d been strident about protecting her location from the media.