A Widow's Hope (4 page)

“Why are you crying, Aunt Hannah?” asked Emma, the eldest of Julia’s
kinner.
“Do you miss Pennsylvania already?”

“Oh, no.” Hannah hurried to the girl’s side and squeezed her shoulder. “My tears are joyous because I’m so happy to see you.” She reached to pat Leah’s forearm and offered the two boys her best smile. They both blushed and squirmed on their wooden kitchen chairs.

“Sit, sit, sister Hannah. We need to get our meal underway. The chores won’t get done by themselves,” Simon said.

Hannah slipped into the chair on his left, and all heads bowed in silent prayer. After bowls and platters were passed and everyone had filled their plates, Hannah was asked to describe in great detail what she’d seen along the way. Four pairs of eyes watched her curiously as she described the farm fields, forested mountains, and small towns she’d observed from the bus window.

But no one was more riveted than Emma. The young girl watched Hannah as though she were a beetle under a magnifying glass. Impressionable—that’s what girls were at her age. Hannah vowed to show her most congenial side whenever the youngster was nearby.

“Eat, sons,” Simon ordered. “Aunt Hannah will still be here after the cows are milked and the horses fed and watered. I don’t want you late for school.” Both boys ate their breakfasts with zeal and were soon pulling on wool caps and heavy jackets.

“How much snow fell overnight?” Hannah asked, remembering the blizzard. She was grateful it hadn’t hit while the bus had been twisting through the Alleghenies.

“Almost eight inches,” Julia said, refilling Hannah’s coffee cup. “I hope that’s the last of it for a while. I’m eager to get my seeds into the ground. It might be another four weeks until the soil is warm enough even if the snow melts quickly.” Julia pulled back the kitchen curtain to reveal long icicles hanging from the porch gutter. “And it’s not above freezing yet.”

“I am ready for spring to come,” Hannah said, sipping the strong coffee.

“It will arrive when God deems it’s time, not because we are ready.”
Simon spoke sternly as though addressing
kinner.
Then he tugged his black hat down over his ears and headed out the door.

Hannah glanced at Julia, who smiled lovingly as he shut the door behind him.

“Do not be alarmed. That is his deacon’s tone of voice, and we’ve gotten used to it.”

Hannah nodded, studying her sister, who looked the picture of contentment. And why shouldn’t she? Her farm was tidy and productive, her children healthy, and her husband a good provider and loving father. For the briefest moment, Hannah envied her sister and immediately felt ashamed.

“Tell me about your wool business, Aunt Hannah. Mother says you card, spin, dye, and knit—all with wool from your own sheep.” Emma’s eyes glowed with excitement. “And that you have a loom for weaving your own cloths.”

“I do.” Hannah said. “My
bruder
is packing it up today. I hope it won’t become damaged in shipment. It’s coming on the same truck as my flock.”

Julia’s face brightened. “When it warms up in the spring, we’ll find space to set it up in the barn.”

“Oh, no, mother.” Emma looked aghast. “Not in a barn with the cows and horses tromping in with muddy feet. Maybe father can turn part of a loft into a workshop where we can keep the floors properly swept.”

“Maybe so, daughter. Or we can just hang a sign to remind the livestock to wipe their feet,” Julia said with a grin. “Now hurry and get ready for school. Don’t be late.” Julia reached for the bottle of aspirin on the windowsill and shook two into her palm.

“Can’t I stay home with you and Aunt Hannah? I can tell your hands are troubling you, and it’s baking day. I can peel and core apples for pie faster than anybody.”

“
Jah,
that’s true, but I’ll have Hannah’s help. You’re excused from the breakfast dishes. Now hurry along.”

Emma’s face clouded with disappointment.

“We’ll have need of a pie taster when you get home,” Hannah said, offering Emma a wink.

“Tasting is more fun that peeling and coring!” Emma said. “I’ll see you after school, Aunt Hannah…and welcome.” Her cheeks flushed bright pink before she sprinted to the stairs.

“I’ll start on those dishes,” Hannah said, rising from the table.

Julia studied her younger sister as she cleared the table. Hannah had grown so thin since their last visit. Her dress hung on her frame as though made for a much larger woman. When she filled a pot with water and carried it to the stove to heat, she at least didn’t wince or struggle with the weight.
Ah, good.
No sign yet of the arthritis that robbed Julia’s hands of movement and flexibility and caused her daily pain. Hannah’s back was still straight as an arrow as she washed the plates and cups and set them in the strainer to dry.

As though she felt the perusal, Hannah glanced back over her shoulder. “What are you thinking, sister? If I do a chore not to your liking, don’t be shy about instructing me in the Miller ways.”

Julia laughed. “The Miller ways must be the same as yours because we had the same good teacher, our
mamm.
”

While Hannah wiped down the countertops, Julia set out the baking supplies, Julia’s mind drifting back to their girlhood. Hannah, at seven years younger, had loved to follow her around while she ran errands to nearby farms. But she hadn’t minded because her sister had the gentlest heart of anyone she knew. Hannah had been the one to return baby birds to their nests and rescue baby skunks that had fallen into a dry well. She would beg their
daed
to stop the buggy for every stray pup or kitten she would see and cry and fuss when he didn’t oblige.

Hannah, the
eegesinnisch
one, her father had called her. But her willfulness was seldom to benefit herself. She didn’t understand yet that Amish rules didn’t allow livestock to be treated as pets, nor a farm barn to become an animal shelter. “Her heart is too big,”
mamm
had said after
daed
had disciplined Hannah. She had crawled onto a frozen pond to rescue a cat that had fallen through the ice.

But Julia doubted that a heart could ever be too big.

Now as a grown woman Hannah tended her lambs as though they were her
kinner.
Children—that’s what Hannah needed—children to love and nurture and watch grow into adulthood.

Hannah would be a good influence on the girls—Julia knew her kind and gentle ways would teach Emma and Leah the fortitude that arthritis robbed her of. And Hannah’s unflagging energy would make up for her own diminishing strength in the years to come.

Julia rubbed the backs of her hands before picking up an apple to peel and core, shaking away her selfishness. She’d been thinking how wonderful it was to have Hannah as part of her family and not what Hannah might want.

Whether Hannah admitted it or not, she should remarry. Twenty-eight was too young to reconcile herself to remaining alone and childless. Julia watched as Hannah dried her hands on a towel and carried over two bowls of apples. She was still so pretty with her clear green eyes and hair the color of ripe wheat. Her skin glowed with health and vitality. Their district still had several unmarried men of Hannah’s age if Hannah didn’t care for the match that Julia had in mind.

“What are you thinking, sister?” Hannah asked, lining up apples to be peeled. “You look like your mind is working harder than necessary for pie making.”

“I was just thinking it might be time to invite Simon’s brother and his daughter for dinner. It’s our duty to make sure those two are getting enough to eat.”

Seth pulled up on the reins as the buggy neared his brother’s house. The warm sun had melted the snow from the roadways, but the fields and meadow still lay under a blanket of white. He’d
considered taking the sleigh for the four-mile ride but feared getting bogged down in a low, soggy area. Phoebe loved sleigh rides, but he’d been asked to come help, not create another problem should he get mired in mud. He lifted his daughter from the buggy and set her on the higher ground. “Go run to the house to see what your Aunt Julia is doing.” The child scampered off, her braids bouncing on her shoulders. Soon he would speak to Julia about sewing some head coverings for Phoebe. She was no
boppli
anymore.

Simon came from the barn, wearing boots well above his knees. “It’s my gutters,” he called. “They’re blocked, and my cistern’s not filling up. We’ll need plenty of water come summer. Can you help me clean them out and the downspouts too?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Seth said, pulling on his beard. “Your boy said you had problems with the well, not the cistern. I’m in luck. It’s a better day for scraping gutters than digging down into a water well.”

“
Ach,
that son of mine don’t know the difference between a well and cistern. All he knows is he turns the spigot and out comes water,” Simon said, slapping Seth on the back. “Let’s go for the ladder.”

They walked to the storage area on the lowest level of the barn and spotted the ladder leaning against the wall. “Julia tells me her sister is coming from Lancaster,” Seth said, picking up one end. They carried the forty-footer around to the far side.

“
Ach, jah.
” Simon’s reply was more of a grunt as he stumbled over a hidden tree root along the path.

“Julia will be glad for the extra help.” Seth tried to take most of the ladder’s weight as his brother started to slip on an icy patch.

“We’ve got two daughters. Emma will be home for good come May. She’ll be done with school.”

“For the company then. Women never seem to run out of things to talk about.”

“We spend all Sunday afternoon visiting after preaching services. That should be plenty of gabbing time.”

Seth smiled. It was more than enough for his quiet brother, who found most conversation a waste of perfectly good air. “No need to beat around the bush when the rules are clear” was Simon’s favorite explanation as to why his sermons were so short. Seth didn’t continue along that line. Instead he said, “Let me go up. My arms are longer. You hold the ladder.”

Simon didn’t argue, as he wasn’t fond of heights. Seth slipped on gloves and climbed. Once at gutter level, he began to scrape out the debris that had accumulated.

“Matthew, come help us,” Simon called. “You follow behind and pick up the mess that your uncle drops down.”

Matthew dutifully ran for a bucket and started gathering up the dead leaves and twigs.

“Aunt Hannah has a big flock of sheep,” Matthew said when he’d caught up to them. “And soon they’ll be arriving. At least they’re not more cows for me to milk.”

“You’ve not seen them, boy. You don’t know if the flock is large or small since we have no sheep at all,” Simon said. “Mind where you’re stepping. Your
mamm
’s rosebushes are beneath that layer of snow.” “When is your aunt due to arrive?” Seth asked from the top of the ladder.

Matthew looked up, confused. “She’s here already, uncle. She came two nights ago and brought this great big trunk, and pap said that nobody needs to drag around that much stuff. And pap put the trunk under the porch under a tarp and told Aunt Hannah she could take things out a little bit at a time.” The boy’s face revealed nothing out of the ordinary with his tale.

Seth stopped scraping out the gutter and looked down at his brother, trying not to smile. Simon’s cheeks had reddened from the cold.

Simon adjusted his grip on the ladder rails before replying. “We have a houseful of useful things. Hannah needn’t have brought so much.”

“Maybe she wanted something to remember her home in Pennsylvania,” Seth said casually.

“Pap said women shouldn’t try to run a farm by themselves. It makes them too independent. She should’ve sold long ago and moved back in with grandpa and grandma.”

Simon tugged on the sleeve of his son’s wool coat. “Were you listening in bed when you should’ve been sleeping?
That’s
what makes people too independent.” He gave Matthew’s arm a shake.

Seth came down the ladder to move it further along the roofline. “Run a farm by herself? I thought Julia had mentioned her sister got married awhile back.”

“
Jah,
but her husband died two years ago.” Simon tried to lift the bottom of the ladder from its position, but it started to totter precariously along the gutter board. Seth hefted the weight easily and moved it over eight feet.

“So she sold her farm then?” Seth stretched the kink out of his neck and noticed two turkey vultures soaring high in the clouds. The birds were returning—a sure sign of spring.

“Sold it to Julia’s younger
bruder.
” Simon eyed his son close by, his bucket already brimming with debris. “Go dump that on the compost pile and tell your
mamm
we’ll be ready for lunch in thirty minutes. You can collect the rest and burn the branches later.”

Simon waited until the boy had run off before speaking. “That woman tests my patience.”

“Who, Julia?” Seth asked, starting back up the ladder. He was eager to put the gutter-cleaning chore behind them. The wind could cut right through a man’s flesh despite the bright sunshine.