A Widow's Hope (20 page)

Julia wouldn’t be sidetracked. “You’re also kind, generous, hardworking, and forgiving. You have many wonderful qualities that Seth will see tonight when you fix a delicious dinner. And he’s bound
to notice how children adore you. Even his little Phoebe is coming around since you gave her that lamb. After praying on this matter for many nights, I’m sure you and Seth are destined to be man and wife.”

“Do you really think so?” Hannah asked, not liking how needy she sounded.

“
Jah,
I do, and we won’t let the sun go down with you two still on the outs.”

“All right,” Hannah agreed. “I’ll make dinner because I want to help, not because I’m promising anything else. And you’d better give me a written copy of the new recipe before you leave for Mrs. Lehman’s.”

Although Hannah could cook well enough, this was an untested recipe. No one had ever accused her of trying to poison people at potlucks or family get-togethers, but she was no Julia. Julia didn’t need recipes, merely drawing on an innate ability passed down through generations. Hannah must have been out counting sheep when that particular gift had been passed out. She usually ventured off the tried-and-true with disastrous results. But tonight Seth and Phoebe were coming. This was her chance to turn over a new leaf—in the kitchen and with the man she hoped would ask to court her.

Hannah smiled and turned toward her optimistic sister. “You go get ready, and let me clean up this kitchen.” She stacked dirty plates until the kitchen door swung closed and then turned her face up and murmured a heartfelt, “Thank You.”

Seth stood in the middle of his kitchen not knowing where to start. How in the world had things gotten so messy? Dishes were piled high in the sink, a film of dust covered the countertops, Phoebe’s sticky jam-prints decorated the refrigerator door, and the floor needed sweeping and washing. He filled the sink with water, put the kettle
on to boil, and then hunted for the broom and mop. Between the spring planting, Simon’s replanting, and routine chores, the house had gotten out of control. He still needed to get his vegetable seeds into the ground or the summer garden would be late. But he would straighten out his house before tackling anything else. No way would he let Julia see this kitchen when she stopped by to get their laundry.

Julia. He slicked a hand through his hair, remembering her note that morning. She’d asked him to move furniture today even though the preaching service was more than a week away. She was up to something, and he had a feeling it dealt with the widow. His sister-in-law couldn’t stand to see two people alone, whether they were happy with life or not.

While Seth washed dishes, he tried to remember the conversation with Hannah. He should have approached her differently, but she had no reason to arch her back like a cornered tomcat. He should have made it clear he planned to buy his own flock, but she should have been willing to discuss the matter. Instead she’d given him the cold shoulder the whole way home. Women!

This wasn’t how people acted when they cared about each other. Seth could only draw one conclusion—Hannah was content with things as they were. Any friendliness toward him was because of their family connection. He had made a fool of himself, especially when he’d kissed her yesterday.

As he wiped down counters and appliances, the memory of that one kiss crept back. And while he swept and mopped the floor, each detail of their day together returned to taunt him. She was a fine-looking woman, with eyes he could gaze into for the rest of his life. Her honesty and forthrightness drew him like a moth to a candle. But Hannah had made it clear she didn’t like him making decisions or telling her what to do.

Seth threw the bucket of dirty wash water off the porch, hung the rags up to dry, and went back inside to appreciate his hard work.
Passable, livable, but by no means the standard he’d enjoyed with Constance. He exhaled a whistle between his teeth in frustration. He might need a wife, but it never would be Hannah, despite Julia’s good intentions.

Seth took Phoebe down to the pond for a quick swim before getting ready to go to Simon’s. He would help Simon move whatever he wanted and then stay for one of Julia’s delicious dinners. But he planned to cut a wide path around Mrs. Brown. Hannah had made her feelings clear. And he certainly didn’t need a wife every bit as ornery as her sheep.

Maybe his
bruder
had been right all along.

For an hour Julia was able to rest easy. Seth was coming to a dinner prepared by Hannah. Once he saw her and realized how silly their quarrel had been, the whole matter would be forgotten. And the new recipe for turkey casserole with plenty of pickled beets on the side wouldn’t hurt either.

Her serenity lasted for only the time it took to dress and walk the length of the driveway. There she met Simon returning from his errands in town. His face in repose looked tired and worried, but it immediately brightened when he saw her.

“Where are you off to,
fraa?
I hurried back from town early so we could eat lunch together.”

Julia rested her basket on the wheel. “I’m walking next door to Mrs. Lehman’s. She’s down with a bug. Emma is already there doing her cleaning and ironing. I left a plate of sandwiches for your lunch.” Julia watched his expression fall. It did her heart good to know that after all these years her husband still enjoyed her company.

“Where’s Hannah?” he asked.

“Inside, dusting and sweeping. She’ll be busy fixing the evening meal tonight. I invited Seth and Phoebe to stay for dinner.”

Simon’s
forehead furrowed into deep creases. “Hannah’s doing the cooking? Is that a good idea?”

Julia leaned toward her husband. “Simon Miller, my sister kept a fine house for six years before moving in with us. I think she can manage one supper.”

“
Jah,
sure, but I invited a guest while I was in Winesburg today.”

“A guest?” Julia asked. Simon never used such terms for neighbors he would run into and then invite to share a meal. “Who is this
guest?
Did you run into the bishop? Or maybe the U.S. secretary of agriculture in the English world?” Julia laughed merrily as she leaned her hip on the wagon.

Simon shook his head, oblivious to her humor as usual. “No bishop, no secretary. I invited Miss Laura Stoddard—Emma’s and Leah’s teacher.”

“You did?” Julia was downright flummoxed. “Why would you do such a thing—invite her out of the blue on an ordinary weeknight?”

Simon met her eye and then looked off toward the road. “I heard from my son as I was leaving for town that you told Seth to come. I thought it a good time for Seth to meet the schoolteacher properly. She’s a bit past prime marrying age—maybe twenty-three—but still a handsome woman. Wouldn’t you agree? She will be Phoebe’s teacher in the fall.”

Julia was past flummoxed now. Simon had never commented favorably or not on any woman’s appearance since their marriage. “Miss Laura Stoddard?” she asked ridiculously.

He nodded. “All things considered, couldn’t you postpone your visit next door and fix the meal yourself?”

Smug—that was the only word that would describe his expression.

“Miss Stoddard is a pretty woman, to be sure,” Julia said. “But Hannah wishes to cook because my hands hurt terribly today.”

Simon’s demeanor changed immediately. “I didn’t know that, wife. Did you take some of the pills the doctor prescribed?”

“
Jah,
soon they should bring relief.” Julia straightened her spine. “What are you up to, Simon? Matchmaking?”

“It’s time Seth meets eligible women in the district. Everywhere he goes the only company he keeps is men, except for your sister. And I don’t think Hannah and he are suited in the least.” He leaned close for confidentiality, but someone would have to have been hiding in the maple tree to overhear.

“I think they’re perfect for each other.” Julia crossed her arms.

“I think you’re either joking or blind.” Simon’s fingers tightened on the reins until they had clenched into a fist. “Your sister is not resigned to the will of God nor respectful of the
Ordnung.
She tends to do whatever suits her best. A man is the head of every household.”

Julia lifted one eyebrow. “Let’s just allow Seth to decide and let God’s will be done.”

The arched brow, so effective on
kinner,
had no effect on Simon whatsoever. “God’s will doesn’t need your help either, wife, yet you seem bound and determined,” he said, sweeping his straw hat from his head. His cowlick stood straight on end while the rest of his gray hair lay plastered to his skull. “Enjoy your visit with Mrs. Lehman, Julia.” He met her gaze with a look of challenge. “We shall both sit down at the dinner table tonight, all…” He quickly counted up to the appropriate number, “ten of us, to enjoy Hannah Brown’s cooking and the interesting company of Phoebe’s new teacher. Everything else that happens will be up to them.”

“All right, but please tell my sister there will be one more place to set for dinner. She doesn’t need any surprises,” Julia said.

Simon nodded politely, as though he’d just passed an acquaintance on the road, and then clucked to his gelding. The buggy rolled toward the barn while Julia walked to the next farm without an ounce of the assurance she had felt after breakfast.
Why was Simon interfering in matters of courtship?

One meddlesome relative per household was more than enough.

Hannah hummed a tune as she cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom. She washed the windows with vinegar water, swept out the woodstove of ashes, and scrubbed the floor on her hands and knees. Tucking a stray lock of hair back under her
kapp,
she jumped when Simon spoke to her from the doorway.

“Hannah, there will be an extra person for dinner tonight,” he said.

“I know. Julia told me Phoebe and Seth are coming.” Hannah continued to rub at a black heel mark.

“
Jah,
Phoebe and Seth and one more. Ten in all.” He went to the refrigerator for the plate of sandwiches that Julia had made and carried it to the porch without crossing her wet floor.

Hannah watched him leave without another word of explanation and returned to her scrubbing. Nine or ten hardly makes a difference when cooking a casserole. When she finished the floor, she rose stiffly to her feet and noticed the curtains looked dingy against the sparkling clean windows. She took them down to soak in soapy water. Later she would rinse them, hang them to dry, and iron them before putting them back up. They would look much fresher, and Julia would appreciate one less task before Sunday’s preaching service.

While the curtains soaked, she kneaded and rolled out dough to make noodles. She chopped carrots and onions and brought up jars of peas, beans, and beets from the cellar. She started the bottled gas stove to roast the turkey breast and set out her baking supplies. Why have a loaf of yesterday’s bread when she could bake buttermilk biscuits? She remembered Seth’s fondness for them. Hadn’t he eaten four or five? She glanced at the wall clock with a frown. She still had to boil the noodles, fix a salad, and set the table. A long, warm bath before changing clothes would help relieve her sore back muscles. And at some point during the afternoon, she needed to feed and water her animals.