Restless beyond his own tolerance, Paul stood in the backyard of his parents’ home, splitting firewood. The day before Thanksgiving was always difficult. The sky hung low with gray clouds, matching his mood. Regardless of how much life had separated Hannah and him, each year they’d had this one day to visit from early morn to almost sunset. The day had demanded little but provided time for talking and playing games while baking foods at Gram’s in preparation for Thanksgiving.

With the Better Path closed, and in need of a diversion, he’d come to Maryland to spend time with his family. It wasn’t helping. He grabbed a two-foot-long, unsplit log. After setting the round upright on the tree stump, he took the ax in hand and slammed it into the wood, splitting the log from end to end. It seemed that a distraction from Hannah didn’t exist. Anywhere.

Over and over again he chopped, tossed, and grabbed another piece. When she’d first arrived back in Owl’s Perch and he’d thought she was married, he convinced himself that he had waited for her out of guilt. Even if that’d been true, after being around her for just a few days, he was captivated again. Now everything about Hannah beckoned him, and he felt miserably cantankerous. With everything they’d resolved between them, only one thing kept them apart—her being in love with someone else.

He slung another piece of split wood onto the growing pile, and a thought of Dorcas pushed its way forward in his mind. He felt so bad for her. Not only was he falling deeper in love with Hannah every time he saw her, but his tolerance for Dorcas was becoming thinner. In an effort to be reasonably up-front with her, he told her Hannah wasn’t married, and for his effort, Dorcas’s health took a turn for the worse.

Mutilating another piece of wood with the ax gave no release from the turmoil inside him. He’d wanted to tell Dorcas there was no way he could court her. Ever. For both their sakes, he wished he was at least attracted to her. After two and a half years, he’d come close to having a few feelings for her, but that was before Hannah drove back into his life. Because of Dorcas’s health, he didn’t dare tell her how he really felt, so she continued to wait in hopes of a true courtship.

“Paul?” His sister spoke loudly.

He glanced up, surprised Carol was standing near him, looking perplexed.

She stomped the ground and wrapped her black wool coat tighter around her. “You don’t even have on sleeves.”

“I’m fine.”

“Only because you’ve been out for hours working like a sled dog. What gives?”

“Nothing.”

She didn’t budge.

Paul motioned toward the house. “Space would be really nice, okay?”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Dorcas is finally diagnosed. Lyme disease isn’t easy to cure, but she’s not dying and stands a good chance of eventually having a full recovery.”

Guilt smothered him. “How’s she feeling today?”

“She’s inside, arrived about an hour ago. Why don’t you come sit with her?”

He shook his head. “Not now.”

Looking resigned, Carol folded her arms tightly across her waist. “She’s relieved to have a diagnosis that isn’t terminal. Scared at how difficult it’s going to be to recover. In pain from what the illness has done to her body.”

He set an unsplit round on the stump. “I’ll come in and see her after a while.” If Dorcas felt decent enough today, she’d have come outside to be with him. Regardless of the reason, the space was welcome. It wasn’t her fault that his attraction to her barely registered on any scale during their best days together.

“If I guess at what’s eating you, will you nod if I hit it?”

Swinging the ax, he landed the cutting edge on the top of the round, splitting it partially. “Leave it alone, Carol. Just go inside and pretend that if you ignore how I really feel, it’ll all go away. That’s what you and Mom and Dad have done for years, isn’t it?”

Carol stared at the ground. “Yes, we have, but it hasn’t changed the truth, and I’m ready to admit that.” She lifted her eyes to him. “Tell me what to do.”

Paul set the ax to the side. “It’s too late. There’s nothing to do. Hasn’t been since the night I left Hannah.”

“Oh, Paul.” She sat on the huge stump he’d been using to split the wood. “Is that what’s eating you? Are you still in love with her after all this time?”

Hearing the sincerity in her voice, he sensed his restlessness ease a notch. “Sounds crazy, I know.”

“Dorcas said Hannah’s been in and out of Owl’s Perch and that she’s not married. So now what?”

“Nothing. She’s in love with someone else. The man has a young niece and nephew they’re raising. Life keeps moving.”

“Paul, maybe you’re better—”

“Don’t.” He pointed at her. “Don’t say that maybe I’m better off. It’s not true, and if you knew her, you’d know that too.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe this is happening to our family again. First, Uncle Samuel living all his days unmarried because of one girl, and now you. Why do you have to care for someone outside your reach?”

“But Hannah wasn’t out of reach for me, and I wasn’t for her. We had family things to work through, and we could have, if only…”

If only.

The list that could finish that phrase was so long he couldn’t make himself admit even half of it. If only he’d followed her home in his truck each time, the attack would never have happened. If only he’d listened to her that night, she’d never have left Owl’s Perch without him. If only he’d received a call from her, he’d have left everything and gone to her. If only…she wasn’t in love with another man.

It was enough to make him think he might spontaneously combust.

Carol touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Sorry I ever argued with you about her. Sorry Dorcas is sick and you can’t get free to look for someone better suited to you.”

His sister’s empathy surprised him completely.

He decided to tell her some of his quieter thoughts. “I’m considering doing volunteer work with our service this coming summer, maybe even something overseas. I just need to make things right with Dorcas first.”

“Maybe you’ll find someone through missions and service, although when Dorcas can tolerate hearing such a plan is anybody’s guess.”

He nodded. “I know, but it’s also wrong not to tell her.”

She sighed. “It’s my fault that Dorcas has been invited to hang around all the time. Between my inviting her and her being the daughter of Mom’s best friend, we’ve thrown you two together. I was just sure you’d come to care for her if given time. I never realized it might take a millennium.”

“I won’t spend my life pining for what could have been with Hannah. It’s just that being with her again and seeing her with Martin will take awhile to shake free of. I…I’m…” He shook his head, deciding not to tell her he had concerns whether Martin was the best person for Hannah. His snippet view of the man did nothing to boost his confidence in Martin Palmer. “Anyway, after Dorcas is better, I’ll make my plans clear, and then I’ll…I’ll move on.”

That was the only thing that made sense. His phone rang, startling his sister.

“Sorry.” He dusted off his hands. “I started carrying one of the clinic’s phones…” Since the night Hannah had to call too many places trying to reach him.

“Hello?”

“Listen, I’m on my way back to you.”

Warm goose bumps ran up and down his body as Hannah spoke the words.

She drew a breath. “I got caught at Martin’s, and now I’m hung up in traffic, some sort of horrific, heart-wrenching mess that I have to break free of before I can get moving, but I’ll be there. Assure Elsie of that, even if she delivers before I arrive. How far apart are her contractions now?”

“Hannah?” He knew who it was and wondered why he’d made it sound like a question.

The line went completely silent. “Paul?” She laughed, a warm, beautiful, robust laugh—the kind that haunted his dreams and woke him with a longing to hold her. “You’re not in labor, are you?”

“I’ve chopped over a half cord of wood so far today. That’s definitely labor.”

“Well, I’m not catching each piece of wood, bathing it, and wrapping it in a blanket. You can bank on that one, bud.”

“Bud?” he teased.

“It’s a word.”

Realizing they’d said the phrase ‘it’s a word’ to each other while playing Scrabble on numerous occasions over the years, he ached anew for the friendship they’d lost. He decided to keep this conversation going as long as possible, much as he had all those board games they used to play. “Yeah, but it’s not worth any points since it’s a name.”

“Wouldn’t matter. You’d find a way to rip off any points I came up with anyway.”

She’d answered him without hesitating, as if the memories were never far from her either. Was he imagining that? “I never cheated.”

“Ah, but did you play fair?”

The cool air whipped through his short-sleeved shirt, and he felt the coldness for the first time today. “Define ‘fair.’”

“Ewww, I tend to forget how good you are at wordplay,” she scoffed mockingly. “You win this round. I only have four numbers stored in my cell phone, and I was only half watching while scrolling for Dr. Lehman’s number.”

With emotions pouring into him at the speed of Niagara Falls, he sat down on the stump Carol had abandoned. “Only half watching what: the phone or the road while driving?”

“Yes.” She paused. “I’m now a regular statistic—young women in their cars on their cell phones while driving—but I did not cause the accident.”

“Says the girl who’s on her cell phone, laughing and chatting feverishly.”

She broke into laughter again. “Shut up, Waddell.”

“You don’t sound the least bit displeased about being an Englischer statistic.”

“There are things I like about the Englischer life.”

Wanting more time, Paul challenged her. “Name them, all of them.”

His sister held up a coat for him that she’d apparently retrieved from the house. Holding it out so he could slide one arm in, she offered a concerned smile. He shifted the phone to his other hand and finished putting on the jacket.

“Thanks.” He mouthed the word to her. “Hellooooo?” he called to Hannah.

“Paul?”

His name came out broken, and he knew they were losing the connection. Then the line went silent. He closed the phone and paced the yard, thoughts coming at him faster than he could process. Listen, I’m on my way back to you.

Carol cocked her head. “She called you?”

“By accident. She was trying to reach Dr. Lehman at the birthing clinic where she works.”

“But you immediately began a really friendly conversation with her.” Carol sighed, looking unsure of what was taking place. “How are you ever going to move on if you keep having contact?”

“Well, so much for deciding to support me.”

“Just don’t set yourself up for another hard fall, okay?”

His phone rang, and he jerked it open, taking a second to glance at the caller ID. Her name wasn’t logged in this phone’s memory, but he knew her number by heart. “We lost the connection.”

“Alliance is hilly with dips. Plus we have the Allegheny Mountains between us.”

That wasn’t all they had between them, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. In spite of a niggling sensation that he was involved in something closer to an affair than a friendship, he wanted more. “So, can you tell me that list now?”

He had no intention of asking why she’d called him again or of turning the conversation into something that would make her back off. It was their day, the day before Thanksgiving, and she’d called—by accident—but still his Lion-heart was on the other end of the phone.

“Paul, I didn’t mean to call you the first time, and I…I called back because…well, follow-through is important, but I should let you go.”

Follow-through?

If she’d had some of that a few years ago, they wouldn’t be in this fix. “Come on, Hannah. How great can your relationship with Martin be if it can’t handle your talking to me for ten minutes?” He regretted the jab at their relationship the second he said it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay. I understand. I’m sure Martin looked like a jerk the other night, but you don’t know him. What you and I do know is there’s too much between us sometimes. Martin saw proof of it the last time I was there, and he lost his temper.” She paused. “Not one second of this is right or fair to him.”

More clearly than ever, Paul heard just how completely forthright she’d become while living in Ohio. Unfortunately, a little less frankness would give them some cover to act like their feelings didn’t run so deep, to behave like all they had was friendship and no threat to Martin. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I’m not all that concerned about what’s fair for Martin. You landed there devastated, and I bet he’s stuck like superglue. But because of him, you can’t give us a few minutes to just chat?”

“Paul.” She spoke softly, as if she understood all too well the truth of his words. “I won’t do anything to hurt Martin. Ever. And if he knew I called you by accident, he’d be fine. If he knew I called you back and we chatted about fun things, it’d undermine who we’ve become. I won’t do that. And we have Kevin and Lissa too. But…”

“Well, don’t stop now.”

“Can you deal with me saying something completely honest?”

“More honest than you’ve already been? Will I survive it?”

She didn’t respond to his jesting. Whatever was on her mind was more serious than the information on Martin.

“Go ahead, Hannah.”

“There’s something I’ve wanted to share since the workday at Matthew’s. Something I knew I would eventually have to say, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I’m not sure Dorcas is…Well, I think you need to be careful, make sure you really know her.”

Wondering what would make her say that, he answered, “There’s nothing between Dorcas and me. It’d make my life easier if there were.”

“You’re not courting her, not engaged, not anything?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m really relieved to know that. You can trust me that caring for her would not make your life easier. Not ever.”

She sounded so sure of knowing Dorcas and seemed deeply relieved he wasn’t involved with her. Why?

“Okay, but isn’t that the same as my deciding what Martin’s like based on seeing him once for a few minutes?”

“No, it’s not. Martin’s a truly great guy who sometimes has a short fuse. Dorcas is…” She cleared her throat. “As much as I’m tempted to say more, I’ve said plenty. Look, I need to go. You have a good Thanksgiving and no fudging at Scrabble.”

“Bye, Hannah.” Paul closed his phone, with armies of thoughts marching through him.

Her words reverberated through him over and over again—Listen, I’m on my way back to you. He looked to the heavens, wanting to believe what had just happened was some type of message and all he needed to do was hold on.

And she was worth years of waiting if he could have her love. But why was she so relieved he wasn’t involved with Dorcas?

He tumbled that thought around, but then another one came front and center, screaming in his face, making all others disappear. Had she just admitted to caring for him and Martin knew it? Hope rocketed through him. Whatever she carried for him was strong enough for Martin to see it and be angry with her at the hospital. But even if she cared, she’d just said that they’d ruined their chance and she was with Martin now. The blast of hope faded some but far from completely.

Too many things about their past and present just didn’t add up. Like how did Hannah return knowing about certain areas of his life? Had Gram told her during their short visit before Paul and Dorcas arrived—the day Hannah had the flat tire in Gram’s driveway? It wasn’t like Gram to be so open. She was awful tight-lipped about family stuff. But no one outside his immediate family knew about the disapproval he’d been under with his church leaders after Hannah first left.

Except Dorcas.

At the thought the muscles down Paul’s back stiffened, and the view around him became invisible. The dark roller coaster his mind had been on came to a screeching halt.

When Hannah called him just now and the call dropped, she called him back just to say a proper good-bye. Yet when she left Owl’s Perch for good, she didn’t call? She said she’d called at some point, but when?

Suspicion clung to him, begging to be explored.

Until this moment he thought the intensity of her anger with him when she returned to Owl’s Perch was to be expected, but that day in Gram’s driveway, she’d made a sarcastic remark about how little effort he’d put into talking with her, as if he’d had chances somewhere along the line that he never pursued.

But how?

When she left over two years ago, she had three phone numbers to reach him: Gram’s, his on-campus apartment’s, and his parents’. He knew for sure now what he thought he knew then—that Hannah had a deeper sense of justness than to hold everything against him for his reaction the night he discovered she was round with pregnancy and he left.

But then why had she not called him?

Paul grabbed the ax and slammed the blade of it into a round. The sound of splitting wood echoed against the silence. He continued working, hoping for a revelation.

Mostly I don’t take no for an answer anymore, especially when it comes to reaching people.

The words she’d spoken to him only weeks ago echoed inside him. She said when she’d called his apartment, a girl answered. He’d assumed she’d called on one of the many nights between their last good visit and when he left her, but did she? As he worked, thoughts fell into place that turned his stomach. His suspicions grew like billows of smoke and were just as impossible to pin down.

But one word kept coming to him over and over again.

Deceit.