A Widow's Hope (37 page)

The family that hosted the last preaching service brought over the church wagon. Hannah helped the women set the benches under a large tent where lunch would be served. It wasn’t going to rain, so not everyone would have to crowd underneath.

Julia and Simon had rented the chow wagon usually used for weddings that was filled with dishes, trays, and disposable utensils. Food arrived with almost every buggy and car, donated by the workers and other local folk. Hannah and Emma organized young girls to carry cold food to the ice chests in the cellar and nonperishables to the milk house until lunchtime.

Once the steady stream of newcomers slowed, Hannah was able to relax awhile and watch the first walls being raised into place. While some men pushed, others guided with long poles or pulled on ropes from the opposite side. It took at least eighty men to lift the load-bearing center wall, as Mr. Klobentz barked orders in both
Deutsch
and English. Once it was standing, men with sledgehammers drove in oak pegs to anchor the wall, while other carpenters erected braces for support.

Ants in an anthill toiled with no greater harmony and efficiency. Hannah marveled at how quietly the men, other than Mr. Klobentz, worked. Women at a quilting bee had far more things to say. The men were organized into teams, each led by a member of the professional barn crew. With the skeletal frames preassembled by the crew, the teams hoisted wall after wall into place. Hannah watched with fascination as the first and second floors went up and floor joists were laid. Just as Julia called the ladies to set out lunch, Hannah caught sight of Seth clambering like a tree squirrel to set the first roof rafter on the center beam.

A table was set up with basins of water where the men could wash. Then the women loaded the rest of the tables with chicken, meatloaf, roast beef, vegetables, and date–nut pudding for dessert. Straw hats, tool belts, and an occasional English ball cap were left around the barn foundation as the men broke for lunch in shifts. The work on the barn never stopped. As Hannah scooped mashed potatoes onto tray after tray, she wondered how the men would find the right straw hat when they got back.

It took more than two hours to feed the workers, after which the women enjoyed their own meal as the barn materialized before their eyes. Once back to work in the blazing sun, the men passed around a water jug rather than climb down from the rafters for a drink.

Late afternoon was a drowsy time of day for everyone but the builders. Heat shimmered above the metal rooftops, the breeze all but disappeared, and even the birds and insects were too warm to make noise. Women sipped lemonade or dozed in lawn chairs under the sun canopy. Mothers with babies stretched out on quilts under the trees to nap. A few children continued to play in the sunshine, their arms and bare feet already brown as walnut shells.

With the cold foods packed away and the last of the lunch mess cleaned up, Julia went to the front room couch for a much–needed rest. Hannah headed for the shade of a weeping willow with an old patchwork quilt. Her
mamm
’s handiwork had been repaired so many times it was now a bizarre hodgepodge of shapes and colors.

Hannah was glad that this particular tree, away from the main activity yet still in sight of the barn, had gone unclaimed. But she didn’t remain alone for long.

Phoebe Miller, barefoot in a soft blue dress and organdy
kapp,
marched across the grass, carrying a plastic sack. The sight of the approaching child filled Hannah with both joy and sorrow. It had been three weeks since she’d seen Phoebe, and the sting of loss still felt fresh. Hannah forced a bright smile. “Hi, Phoebe.”

“Hullo, Aunt Hannah,” she said, plopping down on the quilt.

Hannah swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat from hearing the affectionate moniker and the sound of the child’s voice. “Did you eat a good lunch?”

She shook her head then said, “
Jah,
I ate a hot dog and potato salad.” She spoke in
Deutsch,
the language of an Amish home.

“I made that potato salad,” Hannah said, hooking a thumb toward her chest. “I hope you found it satisfactory.”

Phoebe nodded enthusiastically as she scooted closer on the quilt. “It was yummy.” She crossed her legs Indian-style and tucked her dress discretely underneath. Hannah could smell the raspberry scent of her shampoo.

Without warning, Phoebe dumped out the contents of her bag. White flashcards scattered everywhere as the girl put forth a great effort to mix them up. “Will you practice words with me, Aunt Hannah?”

Again, the enviable title.
Hannah’s throat tightened as air squeezed from her lungs. “I don’t really have time to—”

“Please? I want to show you how many words I learned last week.” She gazed up with her incredibly expressive dark eyes.

What could she say? That she was no longer interested in her? That she didn’t care about her readiness to start school? But revisiting those wonderful afternoons when Hannah still had hopes for a life with Seth would be painful.

Phoebe turned all the cards face up, waiting for a reply.

“All right, but just for a while,” Hannah said. “Then I’ll need to check on the women in the house.” Hannah leaned back on her elbows while the world’s most precious child selected a card to hold up.

Phoebe spoke clearly and confidently, card after card, asking about the few she didn’t know.

Despite the fact she would soon leave the Ohio Valley behind, and despite the fact Phoebe might be approaching
Rumschpringe
by the time she saw her again, Hannah enjoyed their final language lesson.

When Phoebe finished the pile, she curled into a ball like a cat and
fell asleep on Hannah’s skirt. In the lazy summer afternoon, Hannah allowed herself a few last dreams of motherhood. She stroked the child’s back, humming a lullaby she had learned a long time ago.

Yes, she would miss Phoebe. Almost as much as she would miss her father…the father who from his position high in the roof rafters had just spotted his daughter with Hannah.

Hannah might have been surprised to know that when Seth saw the heartwarming sight, he lost his balance. If not for another worker grabbing his arm, Seth would have surely fallen from his footholds.

But one broken leg might have prevented two broken hearts.

T
he view that greeted Hannah from her window that morning filled her heart with joy—a brand new barn.

By four o’clock on Saturday, ninety percent of the barn had been finished. Many people stayed until dark, picking up litter and construction debris. Mr. Klobentz’s crew came back on Monday to install barn doors and build the corncribs and animal stalls. Then Simon hired a team of professional Amish housepainters. They finished the job quickly without Simon depending on friends to drop by or taking more time from chores or from his duties as deacon. And their price had been fair. Now that Seth had planted the second crop of hay, Simon could harvest the sweet corn. And it was time to start picking and canning the vegetable garden.

But for a few minutes, Hannah did nothing but enjoy the view of the rolling countryside of Holmes County. She would miss these hills when she returned to the flatter plains of eastern Pennsylvania. Sheep grazing on steep terrain always reminded her of the pastoral scenes in her picture Bible as a child.

Never grow too fond of things of this world. God’s greatest creation is the hereafter.

Her grandmother’s favorite expression reminded Hannah that she had grown far too fond of a dark-haired man with a gentle kiss
and calloused hands, and of his doe-eyed child whose voice sounded like music to Hannah’s ears.

At least back in Lancaster County she would have the memories of what had been—auction day in Kidron, ice cream cones in Seth’s buggy, talking by the river under the ancient sycamore, seeing his eyes sparkle across the supper table. But she hoped she would never eat another haystack dinner and be reminded of the evening spent with a couple just beginning their life together.

Although she’d been reluctant to move to Ohio and slow to adjust to Simon’s ways, Hannah had come to love living in a large family. Her years alone had made her reclusive and sullen—Julia had been right about that. She loved the energy of the children and the camaraderie of a sister. Even Simon’s crustiness had grown more dear since his apology last week.

Not that the blame had solely been his. Hannah prayed she could mend her ways once back with Thomas and his bride-to-be. And she prayed God would allow her to find peace at last. But first she had to get through today, and that wouldn’t be easy.

She had packed last night before bed except for what she planned to leave behind for Emma and Leah. These were items from her own hope chest that she no longer needed. She hoped the girls could make use of them and remember their aunt fondly. Her trunk of books had been hauled from under the porch and waited next to the driveway under a tarp. Fortunately Simon and his sons had never moved it to the loft as planned, not after the backbreaking escapade with the old plow. Otherwise it too would have burned in the fire.

She’d arranged a ride to the train station with Mr. and Mrs. Lee, who were going to Akron to see a ballgame. Hannah would split the cost of gas despite their protests even if she had to hide the money in the glove box.

Mrs. Lee had tried to talk her into staying, as had Simon, Emma, Leah, Matthew, and even shy Henry. Only Julia hadn’t broached the subject with her. Was she glad to see her thorny sibling leave?
Hannah didn’t think so, but she didn’t have to wait long to discover Julia’s true feelings.

Her sister was sitting at the table when Hannah lugged her over-stuffed totebag and purse downstairs. “All set to go?” Julia asked over the rim of her coffee cup.

“
Jah,
if Mathew can bring down my suitcase, I would be much obliged. It’s too heavy for Simon’s back. Oh, and I left some things wrapped in tissue for Leah and Emma on my bed. Their names are on the packages. If you could make sure they find them after I’m gone.”

Julia looked shocked. “You’re not planning to tell them goodbye?”

“Of course I am,” said Hannah, “but I would prefer to avoid an emotional scene, on my part, when they open the gifts. They’re linens from my hope chest that I want your girls to have.” Hannah released a sigh.

“Then tell them yourself when you say goodbye. I told you before I wasn’t a go-between with you and Seth. And I won’t make things easy for you with your nieces either.”

Hannah was taken aback. She set her totebag down with a thud. “Do you really think this is easy for me?” she asked. Blood began to pound in her temples.
Why was Julia acting like this—so mean-spirited?

“
Jah,
I think it must be easy or you wouldn’t be running back to Lancaster without trying very hard.”

“I have tried, Julia. I’ve attempted to fit in and make a life for myself, but I have failed.”

“You call this failure?” Julia struggled to her feet, using the table for support.

“Wouldn’t you? I’ve practically been shunned by the elders and gossiped about among the women. What would you call it?”

“I call it everyday life. The elders stated their dissatisfaction over a matter, and as I hear it, it’s all forgotten. As for the women of our
district, women talk when given the opportunity—here, in Lancaster, probably even in Alaska—especially when you give them no chance to like you or even know you. You’ve been almost a hermit and yet wonder why people are curious.” Julia stopped the anticipated protest with an upraised palm. “Yes, you had good reasons to stay close to home or up in your loft—the main reason being me—but that doesn’t change human nature.”

Hannah nodded her head in agreement, not wanting to disagree. Would their memories of this parting be of another argument?

“And remember, the ladies were very friendly during the barn raising. Those who didn’t have a chance to speak to you personally asked about you, not maliciously but with kindness. Some wanted to help you rebuild your workroom. Many left donations with me toward purchasing another loom, and several who own sheep said they’ll donate wool from their next shearing so you can fill your order with Mrs. Dunn.” Julia’s shoulders shook with frustration.

Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “I didn’t know this. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it wouldn’t have done any good. When Hannah Brown makes up her mind, there is no changing it.” Julia Miller exhibited a rare loss of temper.

Hannah exhaled through her nose like a peeved hen. “That’s right, because we both know there’s more to my decision than not being the most popular woman in Winesburg. Seth has done everything he can not to cross my path for the past two weeks.”

“And you’ve been a basket of cuddly kittens with him?” Julia braced herself with both hands flat on the table. “You practically spray him with bug repellent if he comes too close.”

Hannah looked into Julia’s brown eyes, hoping for a bit of consolation—maybe a hint of compassion. When she didn’t find the mercy she sought, Hannah dropped her gaze to the floor. “I can’t be near him. Feeling as I do about what I ruined between us, I can’t go back to being just another shirttail relative.”