In the middle of another song, Martin saw Lissa come to the door, tears streaming down her face. He moved out from behind the keyboard, and she ran to him.

He lifted her. “What’s wrong?”

“I hurt my knee, and the other kids laughed.”

“Oh, so it’s a double whammy, eh? So, which hurts worse, your knee or your feelings?”

Lissa wiped at her tears and hugged him tight. “My knee.”

“Well, let’s go take a look.” He carried her down the steps into the kitchen and set her on the island near the refrigerator. “Let’s see if we can roll your pant leg up, okay?”

She nodded while rubbing her eyes. More than anything she looked tired, and he might need Laura to take her out to the cottage to sleep before the party ended. He managed to get the corduroy pant leg up high enough to see her knee. “It’s only red. I thought maybe it’d be green or orange polka-dotted.”

Lissa giggled. He kissed the top of her head before grabbing a bag of green peas out of the freezer. “Let’s use these.” He lowered her pant leg and placed the frozen bag over her knee.

“I love you, Uncle Martin.”

“Yeah, you’re not so bad yourself, kiddo.” He winked. The thing was, he had a love for Lissa and Kevin he hadn’t known existed inside of people. As frustrated as he’d been with Hannah of late, Amy was right, she had opened his eyes and heart to life beyond work and to these children. It’d taken an Old Order Amish girl to make him reach deep inside and connect with God in a way that’d changed everything about him. And now they were griping and snapping at each other regularly. There was no way he could really tell Hannah what he was thinking. He loved her, which meant a lot since he’d never been in love before, but sometimes he was torn between wanting to direct her steps and accepting that their ideals for how to live rammed against each other.

“Uncle Martin.” Lissa patted his face. He looked up. Amy had entered the room. Doug walked in right behind her.

He removed the bag of peas from Lissa’s knee. “All better?”

“Yep.”

He helped her down. “Hey, Aim, Doug. Care for something to eat or drink?” He motioned to the other island where the food was spread out.

Doug took a paper plate and began putting a variety of snacks on it. “Great gathering.”

“Glad you like it.”

Amy grabbed a bottle of water out of the open cooler. “Are you and Hannah taking Laura with you to Hawaii?”

He tossed the peas back into the freezer. “No, she wasn’t hired full-time when we planned the trip, and it’s impossible now to get her a ticket to fly out that close to Christmas.” He slid onto the island. “I shouldn’t have talked to Hannah the way I did.”

Amy leaned against the bar. “You were pretty bad, Martin, but the one you need to apologize to is her.”

“I will. The pressure we’ve been under will melt once she graduates and we go on vacation. We both know that. This year’s been too long with too many things to adjust to.”

“Hey, does Hannah golf?” Amy asked.

“No, but while we’re in Hawaii, that’s not a bad idea. It’s got all the right earmarks of something she might just enjoy—games and being outside are definitely high on her list of fun things. How long has it been since the three of us and Alex have been part of a foursome?”

“It’s been a couple of years, I think.”

Doug licked barbecue sauce from his fingers. “News update. I gave up golfing. It’s expensive, and I’m horrible at it.”

Martin’s and Amy’s eyes met for a moment as they suppressed a laugh. How poorly Doug played golf was not news, but he was a lot of fun on the course anyway, so no one cared.

Amy took a sip of water. “My dad’s a great golfer, and he’s my significant other for the trip.”

“Maybe the four of us can play a few rounds—you, me, Hannah, and your dad.”

“Sounds great. I bet you have no clue how much I’m looking forward to this trip. I haven’t been in over a decade. I’m doing every luau I can manage.”

“I’ve never been.” And he wondered if Hannah would go to a luau. She might not, with girls in skimpy outfits dancing around, but they’d have fun anyway.

“Really? You did such a fantastic job of planning this trip. I just assumed you knew what you were doing.”

And for the first time in a very long time, he felt something other than the need to compromise. He felt respected for decisions he’d made.

With the word deceit rolling through his head, Paul strode across the yard and went inside.

The aromas for tomorrow’s Thanksgiving feast filled the air as Gram and his mother baked a lot of things ahead of time. He wasn’t sure where Carol and her husband, William, were, or Dorcas, but his dad was at the kitchen table reading a newspaper.

“Hey, Gram, something’s nagging at me.”

“I’m listening,” Gram called over her shoulder as she loaded the sink with several messy pans.

“I was wondering about the day Hannah came to visit you. Did you tell her about my change of careers or that after she left, I was in trouble with the church leaders over some of my decisions?”

“Of course not.” Gram flicked the hot water on and poured dishwashing liquid into the sink. “That’s personal family happenings. Besides, I was afraid if I mentioned anything personal about you, she’d up and leave before we had a chance to visit.”

Paul figured Gram was right about that. Hannah had returned wanting nothing to do with him, and he was reminded just how far they’d come since then.

“Well, she knows.”

“Maybe that friend of yours, her brother, told her,” Dad offered.

Paul shook his head. “I don’t think he knows.”

Piling mounds of baked cornbread into a huge bowl, his mother arched an eyebrow. “I trust we can find a better topic than that girl during our holiday.”

Paul straightened, looking directly at his mother. No one seemed more set against Hannah and him than his mother. “Mom, have you ever talked to Hannah?”

“What?” The lines across her face revealed her shock. “Never. And I thought you were over this.”

“Dad?”

Glancing to his wife, he looked a bit uncomfortable. Gray colored most of his once-blond hair, but he still managed to look more than a decade younger than his wife. “Your mother and I don’t agree on this subject. As badly as you needed to see that girl again, I’d have given about anything to see it work out.”

His always faithful and calm dad said what Paul already knew. He’d never betray his son. Paul looked up to see Carol and William now standing in the threshold of the double-wide doorway. “Carol?”

She shook her head. “No. I thought she was a huge mistake on your part, but I’d not withhold that from you.”

He nodded, catching a glimpse of the hem of Dorcas’s dress around the corner, near the entryway of the makeshift nursery for his sister’s baby. Was she eavesdropping?

Dorcas’s behavior pricked him.

Something Hannah had said about two months ago returned to him: “When I did manage to call your apartment, a girl answered.” He’d assumed Hannah was talking about calling him any night but the one, the only one, when he’d asked his sister and Dorcas to man the phones while he looked for Hannah.

“Dorcas, come on out.”

She eased out from behind the wall, facing him, looking too frail to be questioned.

Guilt defined her features. Surely it couldn’t be true. She’d been his ally, giving him advice, helping him cope. He wasn’t in love with her, but he counted her as a friend. “Did you ever answer a call from Hannah?”

“Paul!” his mother called. “Stop this. That Amish girl nearly ripped us apart when we found out about her, and you’re going to help her do it again?”

He pointed at his mother. “That ‘Amish girl’ did no such thing. Your own anger that I’d have a girl you hadn’t approved did that. Nothing else.” He returned his focus to Dorcas.

She stepped out of the hallway and toward the kitchen, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

Paul wasn’t sure she’d actually answered his question. “Hannah called me a little bit ago by mistake. The call was dropped, and she called me back to say a proper good-bye. She didn’t want to say anything else but bye. Now why would someone like that not call after leaving Owl’s Perch in such a rush?”

“Maybe she changed over the last few years,” his brother-in-law offered. “She was a teen and returned as an adult. That makes a difference, you know.”

Paul didn’t move his gaze from Dorcas, who was avoiding looking at him. “Or maybe she called and someone’s not telling me.”

Dorcas stared at a group of photos on the wall that showed Paul at various stages of his life.

Paul’s fist came down hard on the countertop. “Answer me, Dorcas.”

Her chin quivered. “She told you.” The words were barely audible.

Hannah knew?

Tempted to lie, he stayed the course. “I want to hear it from you.”

She shook her head, tears trailing her face.

“What, you can bulldoze my life, but you can’t admit to it?”

Dorcas looked to each person, as if searching for support. “She was pregnant. We all knew it wasn’t Paul’s because he never once hesitated to consider that it might be his. Every one of us thought the same thing about her.”

Carol stepped forward. “We thought a lot of things. What did you do?”

“I…She called. Only twice, Paul. I swear it.”

“Only twice? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Paul measured his tone, refusing to yield to the rage inside him. “Tell me when, Dorcas.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. “The first time she called, we all thought she was guilty of cheating on you. All of us. Even you thought that for a few days. Then the next time you were beginning to get over her, and…”

Carol looked horrified. “Oh, please say that she didn’t call Paul while he had us at his apartment waiting to hear from her.”

Dorcas covered her face with her hands, sobbing. “I’m sorry.”

Paul couldn’t budge, afraid if he did, he might hurt her. “The night she was staying at a hotel, waiting for her train to leave? It didn’t leave until early afternoon the next day! I could have gone to her and stopped her from going!” Paul clenched his fists. “Are you crazy? Or just flat-out mean?”

Dorcas lowered her hands, her eyes begging him to understand. “I…I thought she’d been lying to you.”

“And the next time, what did you think then?”

“You were beginning to care for me…I could tell, and everyone wanted us to be together.”

Paul looked at his mother and gestured at Dorcas. “This is your choice over Hannah?” He clutched his head, total disbelief rocking his world. “How could you, Dorcas? I trusted you. You encouraged me to let her make the first move, to return on her own, but you kept her from reaching me.” He took several deep breaths, trying desperately to see the room around him as his vision went red. “It’s your fault she’s with someone else. And the truth is we’ll never know all the hurt and damage you’ve caused to Hannah…all the lives you’ve altered along the way, but as long as you got what you wanted, right?”

Needing to get some air, he turned to leave, but then a thought hit, and he turned to face her. “Did you remove the money from our account?”

Dorcas gaped at him, and she looked as if she might keel over. His dad went to her side, and William grabbed a kitchen chair and ran it over to her.

Paul took a step closer. “The bank showed me photos of someone wearing Amish clothing—someone pretending to be Hannah. The bank officials and I figured her rapist stole her bankbook and emptied the account. But you could have taken my bankbook. You have Amish relatives and knew enough to pull that off. Did you take our money?”

She dropped into the chair. “No, I’d never steal from you. I’ll put my hand on the Bible if you need me to.”

“Never steal from me? What do you think you’ve done?”

Dorcas broke into fresh sobs, and his dad passed her a box of tissues. While Paul stood there watching her, a memory hooked on to something inside him, and he tugged at it, like reeling in a fishing line.

The day after he’d asked Hannah to marry him, he was here in his parents’ home, writing her a letter, when his sister and Dorcas came into his room and interrupted him. He’d penned the fullness of his heart in those pages, and receiving it would have meant so much to Hannah. Those days had been unbelievably trying, nearly impossible to make contact and keep up with each other’s life. What were the odds of the only letter his sister and Dorcas knew about being the one that disappeared?

“Did you steal the letter?”

Dorcas’s hands fell limp to her side, and her head remained bowed. “Yes.”

His sister stepped forward. “Paul, you know enough of the truth. Please stop.”

Disgusted with Dorcas, he turned and walked out of the house. He got in his car and started driving. He hadn’t started out trusting Dorcas. The whole time they went to middle and high school together, he thought she was selfish and manipulative, but when she was receptive about Hannah, he convinced himself she was a decent and honest person. He should have trusted his gut.

The years of betrayal played through his mind; the ache over all he’d lost by trusting Dorcas seemed to circle endlessly inside him. More than two hours later he pulled into Gram’s driveway. He walked across the dark yard, through the pasture, and into the patch of woods. He didn’t stop until he was at the footbridge that crossed the creek. This was where he’d asked Hannah to marry him. The place where everything he’d ever wanted seemed to become possible. As clearly as if it’d happened yesterday, he remembered Hannah whispering yes to his proposal. It’d taken a few minutes to convince her that he was serious, that he had no one else on campus, and that they would find a way to win her father’s approval.

He’d lost everything he’d ever hoped for due to a violent man, his own knee-jerk reaction, and Dorcas’s manipulation. What Dorcas had done under the guise of friendship and warmth was unbelievable.

The price he’d paid—incomprehensible.

Even now, hours later, his hands shook. Looking down at the creek bed, watching the dark water ripple along its winding, twisting path, his thoughts turned to all the things this liquid would do before most of it flowed into the ocean: provide nutrition for the tiny creatures that lived in it, supply water for nearby trees, cattle, and wildlife. It’d smooth stones and bear life. Some of it would evaporate and sprinkle down no telling where in the world.

God had ways that couldn’t be seen or calculated from a small bridge while watching the beauty of dark waters pass under his feet. Everything in life carried more, accomplished more than could be seen with the naked eye or even imagined.

He prayed that both Hannah and he would accomplish more than either of them could see or imagine. But their courses had been altered. His was still free enough he would welcome—no, he’d be ecstatic to have her back every second of every day for as long as they lived. But she would have to have her heart ripped out again to return to him.