A Widow's Hope (23 page)

Burning dinner hadn’t helped much either.

Hannah smiled, then giggled, and then laughed aloud at the disaster she’d made of things yesterday. She’d cooked a thousand meals, yet when it had counted the most, she behaved like a novice. She couldn’t remember ever trying so hard to impress someone and having it turn out so badly.

Laughing felt good—if just for a few moments. But her giggles stopped when she thought about Seth in light of the new circumstance. He was bound to find out about the chastisement and would never wish to be seen with her again.

Some things just weren’t meant to be.

The early summer shower stopped as abruptly as it had begun. With his chores finally behind him, Seth headed to the river to wash up instead of to the tub indoors. The cool water refreshed him after nine hours of sun beating on his back. He had one more thing to do before his rest tonight, and that was to pay a visit to his brother’s house. The gift he picked up that morning should be delivered before it settled into the wrong routine.

He grinned remembering last night’s supper: Julia had looked nervous, Simon peeved, Miss Stoddard sympathetic…and Hannah? Hannah had looked delightful with her green eyes shining and her flaxen hair peeking beneath her
kapp.
She surely had tried her best. And that’s all anyone should expect. Her dinner might have been awful, but that didn’t bother him at all.

After the ride home from town, he’d pretty much figured Hannah wouldn’t become his wife anyway. Some widowers were destined to remain alone. He never did have much luck saying or doing the right thing when it came to women. Constance had overlooked his rough edges, or he would never have married the first time around.

He shouldn’t have told Hannah what to do with her sheep. It wasn’t his place to interfere in Simon’s household. But there was no reason they couldn’t be friends. Not talking to one another was just plain silly. Maybe after his apology and the gift, she would consider watching Phoebe for a few days until Mrs. Lehman was back on her feet. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, especially since Phoebe needed to lose some of her shyness around Hannah.

As it turned out, his gift ended up doing all the talking.

Seth had barely brought the buggy to a stop in Simon’s yard when the dog he had bought leaped down and started barking. It ran straight to its new mistress.

Hannah was bent low, weeding the garden, and she was nearly knocked off her feet. “A border collie!” she exclaimed, trying to pet the prancing dog. “Seth Miller, is this dog for me?” When the dog jumped up to lick her face, she lost her balance and landed between the bean rows.

“
Jah,
it’s for you,” Nothing could stop the dog’s exuberance until Seth took hold of the collar with one hand and pulled Hannah to her feet with the other.

“What’s her name?” she asked, patting the dog’s head.

“
His
name is Turnip.” Seth said, holding up his palms. “Don’t blame me for the sorry name. He came with it. Supposedly, that’s what he likes to eat from the garden when no one’s looking.”

“No kidding?” Hannah asked. She put both arms around the collie’s neck. The affection appeared to be mutual. “I thought the price was too high or the pups were all gone,” she said as the dog struggled to lick her face.

“They were all gone. The ad hanging in the auction barn was pretty old. But the man needed to find a home for the pups’ father. He has sold his farm and is moving to Akron to live with his daughter.”

“Oh, good,” she said, rising to her feet. “I mean, good for me. How much do I owe you, Seth?” For the first time, she looked at him and not at the new herding dog.

“Nothing. He’s a gift since…I got all carried away telling you what to do. I’ve got no right to do that. I’m sorry.” He shoved his hands into the back waistband of his pants.

“Are you sure? I mean you shouldn’t be buying any expensive gifts.”

“Shucks, the guy almost gave me the dog when he heard Turnip would be going to another sheep farm. There aren’t that many of them around here.”

“That’s true,” she said. She took the leash from his fingers and clipped it to the dog’s collar.

Seth had forgotten he was still holding it.

“I love Turnip,
danki.
I have a feeling he’ll work out just fine. Should we see how he does with the flock?”

Turnip lunged to the left and right, not accustomed to being hooked on a leash.

Seth found himself suddenly uncomfortable. Being in the widow’s company still did that to him. “Nah, I need to get going. It’s been a long day. Phoebe’s already asleep in the back of the buggy, but that reminds me of something else, Hannah.”

Speaking her name aloud had an unnerving effect on him. He feared he might start stuttering. “Could you keep an eye on Phoebe for a couple days? I’ve got to plow my fields and start planting another hay crop, and Mrs. Lehman is sick. I don’t want to ask Julia again. She does too much for me the way it is.”

Hannah looked surprised. “Watch Phoebe?”

Then it occurred to him that Turnip could be viewed as a way to get back on her good side only because he had a favor to ask. Nothing was further from the truth. “I hope you don’t th…think that I only brought the dog because…”

He began to stammer after all.

“I don’t think anything of the sort. Bring Phoebe over tomorrow. But I do wish you would come up to the porch and talk for a minute.”

Seth started backing away from her. “No, but I’ll bring Phoebe by and check how the dog is getting along. I’ll take him back and find another home if he doesn’t work out. Good night, Hannah. Good luck with Turnip.”

Seth felt so manipulative. He nearly ran back to his buggy without even a glance over his shoulder.

P
hoebe slept for three hours on the blanket under the black walnut tree, her faceless doll clutched in her fist. Neither the traffic noise from the county road nor the buzzing insects nor the occasional yap from Turnip broke her perfect, deep sleep. Only in childhood could one slumber so peacefully. Just for a moment, Hannah envied the ability to sleep like that as she spun her raw wool into yarn on her hand wheel. The yarn would later be dyed or left natural and then preshrunk before it was knit into sweaters or woven into cloth on her large loom in the loft.

Hannah had tossed and turned for the past two nights since the brethren’s visit—fretful and worried she would make another misstep. The shame she’d experienced from the warning haunted her daytime hours as well. Hannah loved being Amish—loved the Plain world she’d been born into, married in, and hoped to remain part of for the rest of her days. The thought of being shunned—cut off from others in the district—broke her heart. Her own sister and nieces and nephews wouldn’t be allowed to share a meal with her. Although Simon would be permitted to provide food and a roof over her head, he would not be able to benefit from her sheep or take anything made from her hands. She shuddered again at the thought of becoming a pariah in her new community.

But at the same time, Hannah loved reading and studying the
Bible. She hadn’t promised the elders she would stop learning the Word of God and didn’t think she could. But she wouldn’t quote her favorite passages to others any more. She had no desire to challenge the ministerial brethren or the bishop’s authority, but she didn’t want to ever lose the great joy and peace she found each time she opened the Good Book.

Stretching out the cramped muscles in her shoulders, Hannah saw she’d spun two full skeins during Phoebe’s nap. Nothing like the pleasure of accomplishing two jobs at the same time. “Dear, sweet Phoebe, how I long to hear your voice,” she murmured in a barely audible tone.

At the sound of her name, the child stirred and rubbed her face sleepily. She sat up and stared at Hannah with huge, round eyes.

Hannah changed her dialect to
Deutsch
because Phoebe was more familiar with it. Children seldom learned English until right before they started school. Hannah had overheard Seth address his daughter in both languages. Yet no matter what question she asked Phoebe in whichever language, Hannah only received nods and gestures in reply.

“Did you have a nice nap?” Hannah asked.

Phoebe shook her head up and down.

“Are you getting hungry?” she asked.

The girl rubbed her tummy with a circular motion.

Hannah stopped trying to get a verbal response, took the child by the hand, and headed toward the house. It was time for lunch in any language.

“You go on in, Phoebe,” Hannah said, pointing at the screen door. “Your cousins are already at the table. Emma will fix you a sandwich.” The child ran inside, but the sound of an approaching buggy took Hannah’s attention off food. Her heart lifted when she saw the sole occupant in the open carriage was young and female.

“Miss Stoddard,” Hannah called, stepping off the porch and into the yard.

Laura Stoddard was smiling brightly as her horse brought her up
to the side door. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Brown. Are you very busy? I’m on my way home and thought I’d visit a spell. Today is the last day of classes, and I sent the children home early.”

“I was wondering why the Miller
kinner
are in the kitchen and not eating lunch in the schoolyard. Let’s have a sandwich outdoors. Just give me just a minute to fix them. And please call me Hannah.”

“Thank you, Hannah. I’ll wait for you there.” Laura tied the horse to a low-hanging branch in the shade but didn’t release him from the traces.

When Hannah carried out the plate of sandwiches and pitcher of lemonade, she found Laura seated on a patchwork lap robe under the tree. Hannah noticed again how young, fresh, and energetic the teacher appeared. By comparison Hannah felt older than her twenty-eight years. Sleepless nights of tossing and turning hadn’t helped matters. “I hope you like smoked turkey and cheese,” Hannah said, pulling a jar of bread-and-butter pickles from her pinned-up apron. She poured pickles into the upturned lid.

“I do, indeed,” Laura said as she took a sandwich from the plate. She began eating zealously, popping in a pickle slice after each bite. Halfway through the sandwich, she put it down on the napkin and stretched out her legs in the grass. “My, I worked up an appetite with all those farewells and hugs goodbye.” Her smile was genuine, free of artfulness.

Hannah started to eat her own lunch but with far less enthusiasm. “I’m pleased you’re willing to chance a second meal of my making. Dinner the other night wasn’t exactly the best I can do.”

Laura grinned and poured lemonade into the two paper cups. “I’ve burned my share of dinners. Breakfasts too. I have my most success with lunch because it’s usually served cold. I once overcooked pot roast when the bishop and his wife were our guests for dinner. All the gravy evaporated, and the meat could have reshod my
daed
’s work boots. No one said a word about the beef. I suppose they couldn’t— chewing a forkful took a full minute or more.”

Both women laughed, and Hannah felt some of her nervousness drain away. “I suppose no one will be offering either of us jobs as cooks in a restaurant.”

“Only if they’re mighty desperate for help.” Laura took a bite of the other half of her sandwich and then locked gazes with Hannah. “I hope you know I had nothing to do with the deacon’s…plan.” She spoke in a discreet whisper.

Hannah arched an eyebrow. “His plan?”

“Well, I don’t know what you would call it, but it sure felt like some kind of a fix-up between me and Seth Miller. I must admit, I didn’t see that one coming.”

“That notion did cross my mind, “ Hannah admitted.

“Usually I’m much better at sniffing out a setup. At my age, I’ve had more than my share of well-intended matches. Here I am, twenty-two years old and still unmarried.”

Hannah took a few more bites. The sandwich was starting to taste a little better. “Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t been snapped up by some young man yet.”

“I’ve had plenty of dates and a couple of serious beaus. My
mamm
says I’m being too picky, but I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life with any of them. Until now, that is.” She smiled with a twinkle of mischief in her sky blue eyes.