A Time to Heal Page 2

  The woman sat up. "I'm up here!"

  She brushed the hay from her clothes and began climbing down the ladder, moving slowly and carefully.

  "What were you doing in the loft?" he called up.

  She glanced up at Chris and bit her lip, then resumed descending the rungs.

  With a deep sigh, Chris pulled on his backpack and moved to the edge of the loft.

  He heard an exclamation he couldn't understand and the man thundered, "Who are you?" He picked up a rake and strode toward the loft ladder.

  Chris looked down. "Chris. Chris Matlock. I'm coming down."

  He'd had a gun shoved in his face more than once, had been trained to take on any enemy, and had held his own. He could face one stern-looking Amish man with murder on his mind.

  Well, maybe not murder, Chris acknowledged as he glanced now and then over his shoulder as he descended the rungs of the ladder. The Amish were known for their peaceful manner and forgiving natures, weren't they?

  He hoped what he'd heard was correct.

  "Matthew! What are you doing?" the woman named Hannah cried out. Chris hesitated on the steps.

  Turning, Chris jumped down the last two rungs and held his arms in the air. But instead of reassuring Matthew, he still advanced on him with the rake in hand.

  "Let me explain," Chris said, striving for calm. "It's not what it looks like."

  2

  The other man's eyes were hard and his mouth was drawn in a grim line.

  He wore the same Amish clothing Chris had seen others wearing today: black broadcloth trousers, a dark blue cotton shirt, work boots, and a black large-brimmed hat.

  "I've never seen you before today, you're up in the loft with my sister, and it's not what it looks like?"

  Matthew turned to Hannah. "Did he hurt you?"

  "Let me explain," Chris repeated, making eye contact and keeping his voice calm and steady. "It's not what it looks like."

  But the Amish guy didn't look like he bought it. Chris took measure of the man. Matthew was tall and sturdy, about the same height and weight as Chris, and looked to be in good shape from farming as opposed to weight training like Chris.

  He could probably take him, especially with the special training he'd received in the military. But he didn't have any desire to fight this man. He would react the same way if he caught some stranger up in a loft with his sister.

  The woman called Hannah grabbed her brother's arm."Matthew, he saved me from falling! I thought the kinner were up there playing, and when I saw him my foot slipped on the ladder and I almost fell. He caught me. Matthew, listen to me!"

  When Matthew turned to look at her, Chris grabbed the rake and tossed it aside. Matthew jerked back and Chris held his hands up in the air again.

  "I'm not interested in fighting you, but I'm also not interested in you overreacting and hurting me," Chris said. "Now, if you'll let me explain—"

  "Matthew? What's taking so long?" Another woman hurried into the barn, one who looked familiar despite her Plain clothing.

  Chris grinned and stepped forward. "Jenny!"

  To his utter shock, he felt his arm grasped and pinned behind his back.

  "Don't touch my wife!"

  "Matthew!" Jenny cried. "What are you doing?"

  "I found him with Hannah up in the loft—"

  "Stop it!" Hannah shouted. "Just stop this right now! This man didn't try to hurt me and he was not doing something improper!"

  Chris blinked and then glanced at Matthew and at Jenny; he saw that they were staring open-mouthed at Hannah. Evidently, neither of them had been expecting such a reaction.

  "I know you," Jenny said, looking at him. She frowned and bit her lip. "Give me a minute; I'll remember."

  "The veteran's hospital," Chris said.

  "Yes! You're Chris!" She turned to Matthew. "I met him when I went to the veteran's hospital for tests. Before my last surgery."

  Turning back, she beamed at him. "Chris, this is my husband, Matthew. Matthew, this is Chris. I'm sorry. I don't remember your last name."

  "Matlock."

  "And this is Hannah, my sister-in-law."

  Chris nodded at Hannah.

  "Last time I saw you, you were in a wheelchair," Jenny said.

  "You too."

  "Yes, those weren't the days, huh?" She sighed and then smiled. "I'm putting supper on the table. Why don't you join us and tell us what you're doing here in Paradise."

  Chris glanced at Matthew and saw that the man still regarded him with suspicion. Many of the Amish men he'd seen that day all seemed to wear a rather stern look, but this one could top them all.

  Jenny slipped her arm into Matthew's and looked up at him."Chris talked me through an anxiety attack while I waited for the doctors. I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't been there."

  Matthew's expression softened as he looked at his wife, then at Hannah, and he nodded slowly. When he looked at Chris it seemed to him that the other man looked less grim. "Ya, join us, Mr. Matlock."

  "Chris," he said, relaxing.

  "Chris," Matthew said after a moment.

  Turning, Matthew started to walk out of the barn, but his foot kicked something. He bent down, picked up a black book, and turned to the first page. Then he frowned.

  When he looked at Chris, the suspicion clearly returned. "I thought you said your name is Chris Matlock," he said in an accusing tone.

  Chris took his Bible from Matthew's hands.

  "It is. This belonged to a friend of mine."

  He tucked it into his backpack and, without looking at them again, walked out of the barn.

  Hannah watched as the stranger left.

  "I think you've offended him," she told her brother quietly.

  "What do you expect from me?" Matthew demanded. "What was I supposed to think?"

  "I think you should apologize."

  Throwing his hands in the air, Matthew turned and strode from the barn.

  Looking at Jenny, Hannah raised her brows. "I haven't seen him like that in years. Not since a boy picked on me in school one day."

  Jenny looked thoughtful. "Not a bad thing to see even if Chris didn't deserve it."

  She glanced at Hannah, reached over, and plucked something from Hannah's hair that peeked from under her kapp. With a twinkle in her eye, she handed a piece of hay to her. "I can't wait to hear what happened up in that loft."

  Hannah put her hands on her hips and frowned. "Not you too!"

  Her sister-in-law slipped her arm through Hannah's and led her from the barn.

  "Oh, I can't resist teasing you. To think the prim and proper Hannah got discovered up in a loft with a handsome man."

  "You make me sound—stuffy."

  Laughing, Jenny shook her head. "You're not." She glanced at Hannah. "It's just that you're usually a bit reserved, that's all. Though you surely weren't when you shouted at Matthew.I saw a new side to both of you today."

  "He was—maddening. There's no need for Matthew to get upset. I wasn't in any danger."

  Jenny squeezed her arm. "I know. I chatted with Chris for probably no more than a half hour that day at the hospital, but I got a really good feeling about him from the way he talked me down from that anxiety attack. He knows what it's like."

  Hannah frowned. "You said the hospital had veterans?"

  "Yes. He was in the military. The Army. He might still be a soldier for all I know and on R&R. A vacation," she explained.

  "I have no idea."

  "Army?" Hannah didn't realize she'd stopped walking until Jenny stumbled and caught herself. "He's a soldier?"

  She supposed that explained the man's strength, for he'd caught her with one hand, held her, then reached down with his other hand and pulled her up and over onto the loft floor with little effort.

  Time had stood still as she'd stared up into his eyes, terrified to feel herself hanging high above the barn floor, her feet dangling in the air.

  Then, as she lay breathless on the hay, she'd c
ontinued to stare into intense brown eyes boring into hers, and she'd felt a connection—a soul-to-soul connection—with this man like she'd never felt with another.

  Matthew had asked if Chris had hurt her, but from the time he'd grasped her hand she had known she was safe with him.She didn't know why. She just did.

  Hannah's cheeks warmed as she remembered how his hand had touched her cheek. He had looked so concerned.

  Jenny nudged her. "What are you thinking?"

  "Nothing," she said. Bemused, she walked toward the house with Jenny.

  Matthew caught up with Chris just outside the barn.

  "Wait!"

  Chris stopped and turned.

  "I didn't mean to sound suspicious."

  "Sure you did," Chris said without rancor. "But I don't blame you. I'd be the same about the people who mattered to me."

  "Verdraue—trust—is hard with outsiders," Matthew said slowly. "But if Jenny thinks you're entitled to that trust, that's good enough for me."

  Matthew walked up the steps to the farmhouse and held open the door. "Willkumm."

  Chris stepped inside, and the warm, delicious aromas of food cooking greeted him. An older woman stood at the stove, stirring a pot with a big wooden spoon. She glanced up and smiled. "Well, gut-n-owed. Who have we here?"

  "Someone who knows Jenny stopped by for a visit," Matthew told her as he took off his hat and hung it on a peg near the door.

  He gestured for Chris to come closer. "Phoebe, this is Chris Matlock. Chris, this is Phoebe, Jenny's grandmother."

  Phoebe held out her hand and Chris took it. Despite her slight frame, she had a firm grip. Her faded blue eyes were kind but shrewd. She had drawn her gray hair back from a center part and tucked it under the same white cap thing as the other women wore. She also wore a dark gray dress.

  She gestured at the long benches on either side of the kitchen table. "Have a seat, Chris."

  Phoebe was even smaller than Hannah. Her movements were quick and energetic. As she flitted around the kitchen she reminded Chris of an energetic little bird.

  He took off the backpack, tucked it under the table, and sat at the enormous wooden farm table that reminded him of the one back home—big and roomy, with scars from frequent use.

  "How about a cup of coffee, Chris?"

  "That would be wonderful, ma'am. If it's no trouble."

  He breathed deeply of the delicious aromas emanating from the stove. His stomach growled. He hoped no one heard, but when Phoebe smiled and he saw the twinkle in her eyes, he figured she had.

  She set his coffee before him and pushed the cream and sugar closer. There was no artificial sweetener on the table, he noted. Not that he ever used it.

  "You're joining us for supper, aren't you?"

  "I've been invited," Chris said, glancing at Matthew. "If it's not too much trouble."

  "A friend of Jenny's is always welcome. Did you work with her in television?"

  "Uh, no, I—" He jumped and broke off as he heard a clatter at the top of stairs.

  Phoebe smiled. "That's not a herd of buffalo, just the kinner."

  Three children came into view, with hair the color of summer wheat and big, blue eyes like their father. They looked like what his mother always called "stairsteppers"—children with just a year or two between them—with the oldest, a girl, appearing to be about ten, a boy of about eight, and the youngest, a charmer, a little girl he guessed to be about six.

  "This is your mother's friend, Chris, come to visit," Matthew told them. "This is Mary, Joshua, and Annie."

  They greeted him and then eyed him with curiosity as they moved quietly around the room, getting out plates and flatware to set the table, pouring glasses of iced tea, and helping Phoebe place serving dishes of food on the table.

  The kitchen appliances surprised him. He knew the Amish rejected the use of electricity, so he'd expected a wood-burning stove instead of a modern one run by propane. Their refrigerator, too, ran on the same power.

  Chris's mouth watered as he watched the platter of meatloaf join the dish of mashed potatoes, a ceramic boat filled with brown gravy, and a big bowl of mixed vegetables. When Phoebe drew a pan of rolls from the oven and the sight and scent of them reached him, he decided he was indeed in Paradise.

  Jenny walked in with Hannah. "You did everything!" Jenny exclaimed. "You were supposed to take it easy."

  Phoebe shrugged. "You'd just about finished cooking. I'm just putting it on the table."

  The two younger women went to the sink to wash their hands and then seated themselves. Matthew asked for quiet for the blessing, and when Chris glanced in Hannah's direction, she smiled at him before she bent her head. Chris did the same, feeling a familiarity with the ritual from his childhood, grateful for the meal since he hadn't eaten much that day, too eager to make his way here before dark.

  But his stomach decided to let him know how empty it felt at just that moment, so he quickly piled food on his plate, hoping no one noticed the noise.

  But when the children giggled, he grinned. "Sorry. Bet my stomach will be real happy in a few minutes when all this wonderful food hits home."

  Joshua passed him the bowl of mashed potatoes. "Mamm makes good potatoes. She makes everything good. Well, she's still working on her biscuits."

  "You'll never let me live those down, will you?" Jenny said with a shake of her head. "Just because the wildlife wouldn't even eat them when we threw them outside on the lawn."

  "Your cinnamon rolls are the best," he said loyally, then he dug into his meal and didn't say another word.

  Chris couldn't help being surprised to see Jenny dressed in Amish clothes, with a plain high-necked dress with long sleeves. Her dress was a rich blue, though—not dark like Phoebe's—and the color made her skin glow. The happiness he saw in her eyes convinced him that he'd been right to come here to talk to her.

  She reached to wipe Annie's chin with her napkin, and Chris saw that she didn't wear a wedding ring. A quick glance at Matthew's left hand showed that he didn't either.

  Some men didn't wear a wedding ring, but he'd never known a married woman who didn't wear one. Wondering at that, he looked away and saw that Hannah watched him. She frowned.

  Jenny was full of questions. "So when did you get out of the hospital? What are you doing now?"

  She stopped and bit her lip, then grinned at him. "Sorry. It's the reporter in me. I was born asking questions."

  "You talked when you were borned?" asked Annie, looking at her. "I thought babies couldn't do that."

  "It's an expression," Joshua said. He rolled his eyes, caught his father looking at him, and bent his head over his plate again.

  "You're one of Mamm's Englisch friends?" Mary asked him as she passed the basket of rolls. "Were you with her overseas?"

  Chris shook his head. "I was overseas but I did a different kind of work."

  He hesitated and glanced at Jenny and Matthew, wondering if he should say any more. But although they didn't signal him with their expressions that he should censure what he said, he decided to change the subject.

  "I met your mother at the hospital here in the States." He spread butter on his second roll. "These have got to be the best rolls I've ever eaten. The whole meal is wonderful."

  "Have a second helping," Phoebe invited, handing him the meatloaf platter.

  "I already have," he confessed.

  "Three shows you really appreciated it," she told him with a twinkle in her eye.

  "And you were hungerich," Annie told him. "Your bauch went groowwwl like a lion!"

  "Annie!" Matthew looked stern.

  "No, she's right!" Chris said, laughing. "I guess I was really hungry for supper, wasn't I?"

  "So did you come here for vacation, Chris?" Jenny asked as she got up to serve dessert.

  "Yes," he said. "I remembered you'd told me you lived here and decided to look you up. I wondered if you could show me around a little."

  "Oh, I wish you'd let me know you were c
oming. I have to be in New York for a few days this week," Jenny told him, looking distressed as she stood beside the table with a pie.

  "It's okay. I should have called or written first."

  Jenny placed the pie on the table and began cutting it."Maybe Hannah could take you around?"

  He glanced at Hannah and glimpsed a frown before she quickly schooled her features into a bland mask.

  "Of course," Hannah said politely.

  "There's no need if you're busy—"

  "I'd be more than happy to do it," she insisted, handing him a plate with a piece of pie on it. "Here, you must try Jenny's pecan pie. It's her best pie."

  She handed him a plate with a slice on it and met his eyes.In them he saw wariness instead of the aware, intense look he'd seen when she'd lain breathless on the hayloft and stared up at him.

  Something had changed in the minutes since they'd left the barn. And it hadn't been for the better.

  Perhaps her brother's suspicion had rubbed off on her.

  But Hannah couldn't help wondering if she really wanted to be with this man again for any length of time. Jenny had said he'd been a soldier—might still be—and Hannah had lived her whole life as a member of a Plain community. They were as opposite as opposites could get.

  She didn't blame him for being a soldier. That wasn't her business. God alone—not man or woman—was the sole judge of man. But what would she have to say? Would he judge her and her community the way she'd so often seen others do? Had he come here to see them as a tourist attraction?

  Yet there was something that didn't seem quite right. He didn't seem like the "type" of person who came to visit the area as so many had done in recent years. Some were interested in a more surface type of visit—look at some farmhouses, eat a number of Amish meals, buy souvenirs. It was as though they had a set of expectations, a list of what to see in a limited time.

  Others came to see how Plain people lived a simpler life, one less materialistic that they envied or emulated in these times when people were cutting back or trying to save money.Or learn about connecting with family again, to what and who was important to them. Connecting to God, to spirituality too.