The teacher scribbled some type of equation on the board, but Hannah kept fiddling with her cell phone lying on her desk.

When her phone vibrated, she jerked it up, opened it, and pressed the green icon while walking out of the room. “Hannah Lawson.” She spoke softly as she stepped into the hallway of North Lincoln Educational Center. Then she tried again, louder. “Hello?”

“I found Luke,” Paul stated calmly. “And we’re at the Holy Spirit Hospital in Camp Hill. Mary’s in—”

Paul’s voice stopped.

“Hello?” Hannah thundered into the phone but heard nothing back. “Hello? No!” She slammed the phone shut, reopened it, and punched the call-back button. “Come on.”

A rapid busy signal meant something was keeping her from getting a connection. She hurried down the hall to the office. No one was inside, but the door was unlocked. She went behind the desk, tapped a letter on the keyboard to wake the computer, and then connected to the Internet. Within seconds she had a phone number to the maternity division of the hospital.

Using the landline phone on the desk, she made the call. All her hours of working for different hospitals during clinical rotations were paying off in a way she’d never expected. She knew whom to talk to and how to word her request so they’d be willing to locate Paul and give him the landline number where she could be reached.

She sat by the phone, holding a silent prayer vigil. One thing about being raised Amish—faith in silent prayers was as much a part of each day as chores, sweat, and laughter.

The office phone rang, and Hannah jerked it up. “Hannah Lawson.”

“Hey, I tried calling you back on your cell. There’s no news yet. The nurse said they wheeled Mary into surgery the minute she arrived. We’ve been here about ten minutes.”

“C-sections are fast. You should hear something soon. Just stay on the line with me, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. But don’t you need to be in class or something?”

“I’m here. Technically that’s all that matters. I’ll get the notes off the board and see the teacher before I leave.”

“Did you take a course out there in Englischer land on how to track down people via phone or what?”

“I have a little savvy, but mostly I don’t take no for an answer anymore, especially when it comes to reaching people. Oh, I thought of an idea about Sarah. It has all sorts of issues for you to work through.”

Paul laughed. “And you just happen to tell me that on the heels of saying you don’t take no for an answer. What’s the idea?”

She began telling him, and within twenty minutes they’d plotted a half-dozen ways Sarah could work with a dog-rescue-and-placement group, maybe even learn how to train dogs for specific jobs.

“This is really good, Hannah. I never would’ve thought of it.”

“Hey.” Luke’s muffled voice sounded like he was beside Paul. “Is that my sister?”

“Yeah. Hannah, Luke wants to talk to you.”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

“Mary’s in recovery, waking up.” Luke sounded thrilled. “The doctor said she did beautifully and that getting to the hospital that quick may’ve saved her life.”

Hannah drew several deep breaths. “Oh, Luke, I’m so grateful.”

His boisterous laugh made chills run through her. “I told him my sister’s a nurse and knew what to do. We have a girl! Mary’s going to want to see you soon. The doc’s gonna keep her a few days, maybe run a CT scan before letting her go home.” Her brother’s fast-paced, excited speech was a bit hard to decipher, but she caught it all.

“I’ll be in Saturday evening, around eight or so.”

“Around eight?”

“It’s the earliest I can make it. I have a work shift first.”

“Okay, we’ll be here. You and Paul make a good team. You know that?”

Hannah didn’t answer. She’d seen inklings of it long ago. “I’ll see you on Saturday. Congratulations, Luke.”

“Thanks, Hannah. Bye.”

She hung up the phone and went back to her classroom, but she was too thrilled and relieved to concentrate.

Hannah rode with her eyes closed and her head against the backrest, glad Martin was driving. His sports car handled the curves and bumps more fluidly than her Honda. He kept a variety of music playing while Hannah rested. Between school, studying, clinical rotations, working for Dr. Lehman, and juggling her ready-made family, she needed the rest.

The night Mary gave birth Hannah didn’t sleep. Adrenaline had pumped through her for hours. Memories of her childhood with Mary filtered through her mind as if she were reliving them.

Martin scrolled through the song list on his iPod. “I really don’t get why this trip is necessary. I mean, you lived without talking to Mary, without sending much in the way of letters for more than two years, and now you act as if your world will fall apart if you don’t get time with her.”

“I didn’t have contact with her for that time, but then her life was in danger, and now we have a baby to celebrate.”

He shrugged. “Seems like a phone call should have been plenty.”

“Maybe we should do the band gathering by phone next time, okay?”

“Totally different.” He turned up the music.

She settled back and closed her eyes again. From nowhere, thoughts of Paul demanded her attention. Refusing to indulge them, she shifted in her seat and opened her eyes. “How’s work?”

“We never talk about my work.”

“Maybe we should.”

He glanced from the road to her several times. “Nah, if I do that, then I have to hear about babies being born and about events in the lives of those women who come for the Tuesday quiltings.”

When silence fell between them, recent snapshot images of Paul ran through her mind. The first glimpse she caught of him at Gram’s—his honesty and patience in the face of her anger. Hours later—his gentleness and wisdom with Sarah. In the barn as they talked afterward—his calm but unyielding insistence that she speak to him with civility. Later that same day in the kitchen at the Better Path preparing food. He could have eaten at Gram’s, but he’d fixed omelets at the clinic. Had he done that for her?

She turned off the music. “Talk to me. Find something and talk.”

“Would you relax?” Martin grabbed his leather CD wallet and pulled out a fresh disc. “I haven’t loaded this onto my iPod yet, but I’ve been wanting you to listen to a couple of songs on my newest album so we can talk about which ones to add to the band’s list.”

“Meaning some of the words are controversial.”

“Not by most people’s standards, but, yes, that’s what I mean.”

Hannah nodded and tried to focus on the songs. Against her will, thoughts of Paul pushed forward again, recounting conversations that had passed between them since she’d returned. As the memories circled, she picked up on nuances of who he was that she hadn’t noticed before. More than ever she understood that it hadn’t been his apathy that had let her go. It was his patience. When he was hurt at Matthew’s, he’d seemed standoffish for a bit, and she thought he was trying to avoid being affected by her proverbial scarlet letter. Clearly there were times when she misunderstood his quiet demeanor.

“Hello?” Martin’s sarcastic tone catapulted her back to the present.

She turned toward him. “Yeah?”

Under the glow of streetlights, she saw a lopsided smile ease across his lips. He moved his hand to the back of her neck, rubbing it gently. “I’m going to assume you heard none of the songs.”

“Sorry.”

He gestured out the window. “It’s spitting sleet, and we’re pulling into the parking lot. I’ll drop you off and then park the car.”

“Okay.”

She went into the hospital. Paul was in a seat some twenty feet away. She started to go to him but decided maybe she should keep her distance and wait for Martin. It’d be rude to be with Paul when Martin came in. She glanced in the direction he was looking.

Television.

Deciding she couldn’t pass up harassing him, she smiled and walked over to him. “Sports-bar restaurants and hospitals?”

Paul rose to his feet. “Hi, Hannah. Someone needed a lift to the hospital, so while I was here…”

“If I had a picture phone, I’d send a snapshot of this to your bishop.”

“You think he has a picture phone to receive it?”

She laughed and he joined her.

“Besides, it’s Penn State and Michigan. His disapproval would fall on deaf ears.”

“I get the distinct impression you’d not repent one bit, Paul Waddell.”

“In the words of Hannah Lawson, ‘You think?’” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You handled this with Mary right. There is only good news to celebrate.”

He motioned to the chair beside him, and they both took a seat. “Your Daed’s in the waiting room. Luke told him you were coming in, and he asked me to bring him here so he could see you.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say there was only good news?”

Paul looked at his folded hands, focused on them while a smile covered his face. “I never pegged you for a legalist, Hannah.” Slowly his eyes moved to hers, looking at her the same way he did years ago when he walked so lightly, so carefully with a young girl’s heart, never asking for even a kiss though he was in the midst of the lure of college life.

But they did kiss…

Bombarded with memories, Hannah couldn’t seem to breathe. She remembered standing in the November rain, wishing all of life were different and their love wasn’t forbidden. Through the misting night, she spotted his old truck. He’d come to Owl’s Perch, trying to catch a few minutes with her after being separated for months with no contact. The door opened, and Paul jumped out. Ignoring all sense of protocol, she ran down the hill and embraced him. He nuzzled against her neck, even daring to plant a kiss on her cold, damp skin. Her arms tightened, and she remembered fearing it might be just a dream. But his warm, caring hands moved to her face, cradling it, and slowly a smile eased his tense features as he lowered his face until his lips touched hers. Warmth and power swept through her. Her first kiss. So powerful—

“Hannah.” Martin’s voice drew her back.

She jumped to her feet. “Hi.” She slid her hand into his, dismissing romantic thoughts of Paul. Her life, her family, her dreams were with the man beside her.

Paul rose.

Martin’s eyes flicked over him before he focused on Hannah. “Problem?” Smoothly he pulled his hand free from hers and ran his arm behind her, placing his palm on the small of her back. A reminder of her real life. The one she’d built despite everything. The one he’d helped her attain.

“No, not at all.” She smiled, offering an unspoken apology.

His professional demeanor seemed to be in place, and his features didn’t return an ounce of warmth.

Trying to dispel the tension, she motioned toward Paul. “Paul, I’d like you to meet Martin Palmer. Martin, this is Paul Waddell.”

Martin’s green eyes flashed with annoyance for a moment before he gave a nod. “Paul.” With his left hand still on Hannah’s back, he held out the other.

Paul shook his hand. “Have any trouble finding the place?”

“No, but I get the feeling it’ll be hard finding a topnotch hotel.” Martin’s features edged with tautness as he checked his watch. “Why don’t we go upstairs so you can see Mary before it gets too late?”

Paul gestured down the hallway. On their way to the elevator, they passed a few groups of people, their voices hushed as they headed for the exit.

Keeping one hand on Hannah’s back, Martin punched the elevator button. “It’s nearly nine. I’m sure visiting hours are over, so we need to wrap this up quickly.” He spoke softly, and she knew he expected a nod.

She didn’t respond.

Her dearest childhood friend and her closest sibling had a baby girl. Hannah wanted to celebrate, to watch the joy on their faces as they held this little girl. It meant so much more than the fact they were her family and she’d known what to do to help them. It meant finding strength and tucking it away for days that carried no hope. And she didn’t want to be rushed through it.

Only the three of them stepped onto the elevator. Paul pushed the button with the number four on it and the doors closed.

Martin leaned against the wall, eying Paul with disdain. “So, how’s the shoulder?”

Paul’s expression seemed rigid. “Healed.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.”

Hannah looked from one man to the other. The gentlemanly welcomes had faded. Martin’s thinly veiled manners didn’t fool her. He could not care any less about Paul’s arm. He wanted Paul to know he knew—everything. And Paul’s one-word answer drew a distinct boundary—around what she wasn’t sure—but she was becoming familiar with this in-your-face, unmovable side of him.

She knit her brows slightly, trying to pass Martin a silent message to be nice, but he acted indifferent to her subtle messages. “Paul said that my Daed is here.”

Martin gave half a nod. The doors opened, and she stepped off with Martin right behind her. While Paul went on ahead, Martin tugged on her hand, and she stopped.

“Do you think maybe you could not flirt with him while I’m here?” His words were but a whisper, his anger deep.

She shook her head. “I…I…”

“I know what I saw in the lobby, Hannah—your eyes locked on his.”

What was she going to say to him? Tell him the truth, that sometimes being near Paul was just too much?

Martin started walking in the same direction Paul had, but he was not within sight. They’d only gone a short way when she realized she didn’t have a room number for Mary. Turning to go back to the nurses’ station, she spotted her father walking toward her.

“Daed…” She pressed her hand down the front of her dress. “I’d like you to meet Martin Palmer. Martin, this is my father, Zeb Lapp.”

“Hi.” Martin’s tone was neither warm nor cold. He had little respect, if any, for her father, the man who’d given Zabeth a difficult time when she chose to leave the church after becoming a baptized member.

Without any appearance of anger or resentment, her father studied Martin before he shook his hand. “Hello.” He had no idea who Martin was, no clue that his sister, Zabeth, had spent her adult life helping raise him.

A grin caused lines to crease around her father’s mouth. “It’s been a couple of days, and Luke’s still about to burst he’s so excited about being a Daed, but he says no one but him and Mary can hold the baby until you and that Mennonite…” He let the sentence drop, dipped his head apologetically, before looking her in the eye again. “Until you and Paul do.”

“What? I had no idea.”

“Since most don’t come to the hospital for such things anyway, it doesn’t matter much. They’ll wait until Luke and Mary are home to go by and see the baby.” He tilted his head, studying his daughter. “You told Mary to call an ambulance and come here?”

Hannah froze, her mind running a thousand miles a second. He seemed to be asking sincerely and was clearly confused by the contradictions of what’d taken place two nights ago—the ambulance, the surgery, Luke and Mary not allowing anyone in until Hannah and Paul went in. Yet in spite of the confusion and mystery, he didn’t seem to be accusing her of any misdeed.

“I did.”

Daed adjusted his black winter hat. “You have no more to say than that?”

She shook her head. “No.”

Her father’s eyes stayed hard on her. “You’re a tough one to figure, child. When you were a little girl,”—he held his hand two feet off the ground—“just a tiny thing, you were more independent than half the men I knew. And smart.” He scoffed. “You scared me. You should have seen yourself. It was something to behold. I wavered during your whole childhood between being proud of you and fearing you’d turn against God.” He rubbed his rough, dry hands together. “‘Do by self.’ That was one of the first things you ever learned to say, and say it you did, all the time.” He paused, pain reflected in his eyes. “I never once intended to be a cause for you to turn against Him. I thought I was holding you in place, keeping you submissive to a higher calling.”

“There is no higher calling than freedom in Christ.”

“But I’m your father. I had the right to decide where you should be, how you should dress and act.” He lowered his eyes. “And who you should be with.”

Determined to share her mind without sounding harsh, Hannah set her will to speaking softly. “Then when is it a parent’s responsibility to let go and let their offspring find the path God has for them?”

Her father sighed and removed his hat. “I got some things to say, and I don’t mind saying them right now, unless you got a problem with that.”

“Go ahead.”

“When I insisted on you talking to the church leaders before I’d let you move back home from Mary’s, I thought I was helping clear your name. I was sure they’d hear you out and say you were innocent of any real wrongdoing, but then during the meeting I learned that you’d been sneaking around behind my back with Paul and that you’d been keeping all sorts of secrets from me. I got so mad when I learned that, I was convinced you’d lied to me about everything, including the night of the unmentionable. It made sense to think you’d had a fight with him that night and while running home you’d fallen headlong, cutting your palms. And I figured all those tears and rough times you went through were because you was pining over him. Those sorts of conclusions happen when a parent learns a child’s been lying.” He drew a long breath, twisting the hat in his hand around and around. “But bringing you before the church leaders turned out to be unjust. I just wanted you to tell the truth so we didn’t look like heathens with you needing a place to raise your child outside of wedlock, but I never once thought you’d up and leave before we worked everything out.”

There she stood, needing to forgive a man whose hand in dishing out misery to her was every bit as real as her attacker’s. The second hand on the wall clock made its little tick, tick, tick. Words didn’t form in her mind. Among the Plain, withholding forgiveness was cause for losing all chance of salvation. The words I forgive had to be spoken, and then the person could wrestle with any lingering resentments on their own.

Still, she said nothing.

She could feel Martin’s hand on her back, nudging her. He wanted her to speak. Flashing him a look to stop, she sidestepped him.

“That’s all I needed to say. Maybe you can think on it a spell, and we’ll talk later.”

Her father wasn’t going to lecture her that her salvation was at stake?

“I…I’d like that.” As wobbly as a new calf, she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

His eyes misted. “Go on, now.” He pointed down the hall.

She glanced to Martin.

“I’m fine. Go do whatever it is Luke wants. I’ll sit with your dad.”

Her Daed took a seat.

Martin pulled change from his pocket and moved to the vending machine. “Care for a drink, Mr. Lapp?”

Their voices faded as Hannah entered the hallway. Farther down the corridor, she spotted Paul outside one of the rooms, waiting on her. When she came close, he put his hand on the door as if he was going to open it, but then he paused. “Hannah, in spite of any problems this caused you, Luke and Mary are very grateful you came.”

She understood. He was giving assurance that whatever price he thought she was paying with Martin was worth it because of Luke and Mary’s gratefulness. But Martin wasn’t who he appeared to be to Paul. He was deep and wonderful, but if she defended him right now, Paul wouldn’t believe her anyway.

Without answering him, she pushed the door open herself. Mary was propped up in bed, her prayer Kapp in place and a tiny infant in her arms. She smiled broadly, radiating joy so strong Hannah basked in the strength of it.

Luke crossed the room and hugged Hannah, almost stealing her breath. “How can I thank you?”

She held on to him. “Oh, I’ll have to think that over and come up with a way here or there, regularly for decades.”

Luke chuckled. “You do that.”

“Look.” Mary’s raspy voice was barely recognizable. She fidgeted with the blankets surrounding the tiny bundle in her arms.

Hannah moved to one side of the bed and Paul to the other, each looking at the new life in Mary’s arms. She lifted her daughter toward Hannah, which made the baby start crying.

Hannah eased the infant from her mother’s arms. “Shh, Liewi, Ich denk nix iss letz. Ya?” She bounced her gently, assuring her that nothing was wrong, and the newborn became quiet.

Looking like his shirt was entirely too small for his swollen chest, Luke smiled. “We thought about naming her Hannah.”

Hannah froze. “What? No. Don’t—”

“But we decided to name her after someone easier to raise than you,” Mary teased.

“Than me?” Hannah quipped. “What about you?”

Mary giggled and then grabbed her stomach and moaned. “Oh, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

Luke moved to Hannah’s side and placed his finger against the palm of his daughter’s hand. “We’ll do our best to guide her, but as far as who she is or becomes—what will be, will be. And she’ll be my daughter the same as she’s His daughter, no matter what she chooses. We named her Amanda. It means ‘worthy to be loved.’”

“Perfect,” Hannah whispered, marveling at the little girl in her arms. An ache tugged at her for all the babies she’d never have and even for the lifetime of holidays and birthdays of her nieces and nephews that she’d miss. Mary and she gushed over the baby for quite a spell before she walked around the bed and gently laid the tiny infant in Paul’s arms.

Paul held the girl as if he’d held newborns many times before, and Hannah was sure he had. His sister had children, and no telling how many other relatives and friends had babies. His tall, muscular body appeared gigantic next to the tiny newborn.

She turned to Luke. “If you want to do something nice for me, I’d like for you and Mary to meet Martin.”

The newborn started fussing again, and Paul eased her back into her mother’s arms.

Luke glanced to Paul before nodding. “Sure, go get him.”

When she stepped into the hallway, she spotted Martin leaning against a wall. She motioned for him. When he was toe to toe with her, she stayed put, looking him in the eye. “About Paul in the lobby, I should’ve been more aware, more careful. I’m really sorry.”

He started to brush the backs of his fingers down her arm but lowered his hand.

What had she done to them?

Martin sighed. “I know.” Unlike other arguments, this time she received no understanding smile or kiss on the forehead. “Can we get out of here now?”

“Soon. I want you to meet Luke and Mary first.” She wrapped one arm through his and kissed his cheek. He remained unmoved, staring at her. Then he slowly turned her hand palm up and eased his finger across the center of it, telling her his heart was hers. Closing her hand around his, she returned his message. She didn’t want his heart anywhere else.

He finally drew a deep breath, and she saw a hint of a smile.

Hannah held his hand as they began walking. “They named the baby Amanda, and she’s absolutely perfect.”